Page 95 of Love & Letter Charms
Evryn closed the distance between them in two quick strides, his hands fisting in the front of Ryden’s jacket, yanking him forward until they were nearly nose to nose. His voice dropped to something low and dangerous.
“Tell me the truth. If you have been anything but a perfect gentleman with her—if you have taken even the smallest liberty that?—”
“I will tell you the truth!”
Ryden gripped Evryn’s wrists and shoved him away, his own voice strained with the weight of everything he’d been holding back. The words came pouring out, raw and desperate and absolutely honest.
“I love her. Completely and endlessly, with everything in me. She has captivated me entirely—first through her words, her thoughts, and now in person, where she has exceeded every impossible dream I had of her. For almost the entirety of our correspondence, there has been no one else for me but her. No other lady has turned my head or touched my heart since her letters began arriving in that wooden box.”
He saw Evryn’s expression shift, some of the murderous intent fading into uncertainty, but Ryden pressed on, needing him to understand.
“You may believe me entirely unworthy of her, and in that, I—” He broke off with a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “I would not disagree. She is far too good for me, too pure and smart and extraordinary for someone who has spent years playing at being someone he is not. But if she will have me—if she can step beyond her fear of what she believes royal life will be like, and if she can forgive the fact that I did not immediately reveal who Iwas upon first recognizing her—then I will spend the remainder of my days and nights devoted to ensuring she never regrets choosing me.”
Silence fell between them, heavy and complete save for the sound of their breathing gradually slowing from its heated pace. Somewhere in the garden below, night creatures chirped their endless songs. The fountain continued its gentle splash, indifferent to the drama playing out beside it. The moon continued its path across the sky, painting everything in shades of silver and shadow.
Evryn stood very still, his expression cycling through several emotions Ryden could not quite identify. The fury had faded, replaced by something more complex. Resignation, perhaps. When he finally spoke, his voice carried a different quality.
“Well.” He cleared his throat, looking suddenly uncomfortable. “It seems I may have been … somewhat excessive in my response upon discovering precisely who your mysterious correspondent was.”
“Understandable,” Ryden responded tightly. “She is your sister. You clearly care for her. I don’t fault you for feeling protective.”
“And I apologize for …” Evryn rubbed the back of his neck. “Assuming the worst of you.”
“Again,” Ryden said, softer this time, “understandable.”
Silence settled between them, not uncomfortable so much as uncertain. Both men turned their gazes toward the moonlit gardens, as though the silvered calm below might offer a way to navigate the unease between them.
“I suppose,” Evryn said slowly, “if this all works out as you hope, you and I will be brothers.”
Ryden blinked, a tug pulling sharp and low in his chest. Brothers. The word landed in an unexpected way, spreading into warmth, longing, the ache of old loneliness easing. Hehad always loved and envied Ellian’s family. The loud, chaotic jumble of siblings and cousins and aunts and uncles. But though they were Ryden’s family too, they remained distanced by the fact that his link to Ellian was not one that could ever be claimed publicly.
The thought of gaining not just a wife but an entire new family who would tease and argue and support each other through everything life might bring … Well, it had not even occurred to Ryden.
“I think,” he said quietly, his voice rough with emotion he did not try to hide, “I would rather like that.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
The music roomlay shrouded in darkness, save for the faint shimmer of moonlight that crept through the tall windows. Aurelise had tucked herself into the narrow space behind the settee where Prince Ryden’s childhood toy chest sat, her knees drawn up to her chest. He might search for her here—he knew this had become her favorite sanctuary within Solstice Hall, after all—but from this particular angle, she remained invisible from the doorway. If he glanced inside and saw nothing, perhaps he would continue his search elsewhere.
She needed time. Time to think, to breathe, to make sense of the impossible truth that had just shattered her understanding of everything.
R and Ryden. The same person.
It felt as though the world had tipped on its axis, leaving her to view everything from a strange new angle. At first, the revelation had been too vast to comprehend, too impossible to hold all at once. She had tried, quite literally, to run from it. But as she sat there in the stillness of the music room, her heartbeat gradually steadying, another feeling began to surface, quiet, startling, and entirely unexpected. Relief.
A small, incredulous laugh escaped her lips, quickly muffled behind her hand. How had she not seen it? They possessed the same teasing wit, the same ability to coax her from her careful reserve with gentle provocations. They both saw through her protests to the truth beneath, both challenged her to be braver than she believed possible. The man who’d written ‘take a midnight swim’ was the same one who had chased her all the way to the lake and persuaded her to step into it. The correspondent who’d penned ‘be entirely improper’ had stood beside her through every scandalous moment.
No wonder she had fallen in love with both of them.
The thought sent a flutter of something dangerously close to joy through her chest. She would not have to choose. Would not have to break anyone’s heart by selecting one over the other. She could have them both—the man who knew her soul through ink and paper, and the one who’d drawn her so thoroughly from her shell that at times she barely recognized the brave creature she’d become.
Except …
She tipped her head back against the settee, eyes sliding shut as a quiet groan escaped her. Saying yes to them—him—meant marrying a prince. Taking on a role she’d insisted from the very moment of the Crown Court announcement that she could never, would never, absolutelycould not possiblyfulfill.
Though, a traitorous voice whispered in her mind, she would have sworn with equal vehemence that she could never swim in a lake, or smoke driftshade leaf, or stand up on behalf of those who were not in a position to stand up for themselves. Yet she’d done all those things and more.
Perhaps she had been just the tiniest bit mistaken about the princess matter as well?
