Aurelian should have known the days leading up to his departure had been far too peaceful.
The invitations had finally stopped arriving.
The farewell calls were finished. Their trunks were packed and waiting downstairs. His horse had been groomed, his tack inspected, and enough food prepared for the journey that Carina had accused the kitchen of intending to feed half the southern road.
Everything was ready for the following morning.
For the first time since arriving in Evelina, Aurelian had expected an uneventful afternoon at the townhouse.
Perhaps he would read, sit in the garden, or begin the letter he had promised Seraphina.
He should have known better.
Shortly before noon, the sound of carriage wheels drew several servants toward the front windows.
Aurelian barely noticed at first.
Carriages passed the Bellafonte townhouse regularly now. Messengers arrived. Merchants called upon Snyder. Nobles continued sending last-minute notes wishing the family a safe journey south.
Then Vincente entered the drawing room.
“My lord.”
Something in his expression made Aurelian lower his book.
“Yes?”
“There is a royal carriage outside.”
Aurelian stared at him.
“A what?”
An ebony carriage bearing the imperial crest had stopped directly before the Bellafonte residence. Four white mares stood beneath silver harnesses while a finely dressed footman waited at the entrance.
The household seemed to go still around him.
Carina emerged from the breakfast room at nearly the same moment Snyder appeared from his study.
The footman bowed.
“I have come to escort Baron Aurelian Bellafonte to the palace for a private audience.”
Nothing more.
No formal invitation.
No explanation.
Not even the name of whoever had summoned him.
Silence settled over the entry hall.
Carina slowly turned toward her son.
All the color had left her face.
“What did you do?”
Aurelian’s eyes widened.
“I don’t know!”
That, unfortunately, did not reassure her.
Snyder placed one hand against his wife’s arm.
“Aurelian.”
“I truly do not know.”
He looked toward Vincente for help.
His attendant offered none.
“I have received no correspondence from the palace, my lord.”
Carina pressed one hand against her chest.
“Think.”
“I am thinking.”
“Did anything happen at the ball?”
“No.”
Aurelian hesitated.
“Nothing terrible.”
His mother’s eyes narrowed.
“That pause was deeply unhelpful.”
“I danced with Duchess Vaelmont.”
“We know.”
“I waved at Princess Serena.”
Carina stared.
Aurelian winced.
“She waved first.”
Snyder pinched the bridge of his nose.
“That is all?”
“I believe so. There were several hundred people present. I cannot account for every moment.”
Carina glanced toward the royal carriage through the open doors.
“This is how people are taken away.”
Aurelian stared at her.
“Mother.”
“I did not say you committed treason. I merely said this is how I imagine it would begin.”
“Carina,” Snyder said.
“Yes. Fine.”
She inhaled slowly, then pointed toward the staircase.
“You cannot go dressed like that.”
Aurelian looked down at his simple white shirt, brown trousers, and loose waistcoat.
For once, he agreed.
Lady Lockwood was not present.
Under ordinary circumstances, Aurelian might have considered that a blessing.
Today, it felt suspiciously like abandonment.
Vincente took charge instead.
Within twenty minutes, Aurelian had been washed, combed, dressed, and inspected with greater severity than he had endured before the royal reception.
They settled upon cream and crimson.
Respectable.
Formal without being ceremonial.
Most importantly, according to Vincente, unlikely to offend anyone.
Aurelian chose to trust him.
By the time he returned downstairs, Carina was waiting in the entry hall.
She adjusted his collar despite Vincente having already done so several times.
“Do not speak before you understand why you have been called.”
“Yes, Mother.”
“Do not make jokes.”
“I rarely make jokes intentionally.”
“That concerns me more.”
Snyder approached.
“If this concerns Bellafonte trade, do not agree to anything before you understand the terms.”
“Of course.”
“And if it concerns the princess—”
“It does not concern the princess.”
“You do not know that.”
Aurelian pressed his lips together.
Unfortunately, his father was correct.
Vincente handed him his gloves.
“And if you discover that you have somehow become engaged, my lord, I suggest learning the lady’s name before returning home.”
Aurelian looked at him in horror.
Carina did not laugh.
That was considerably more alarming.
Soon afterward, Aurelian found himself bundled into the royal carriage beneath the concerned gaze of both parents and one unusually solemn attendant.
The door closed.
The carriage moved.
And Aurelian immediately began imagining disasters.
Had something happened with Bellafonte trade?
King Richard had questioned him about expansion during his presentation. Perhaps the crown wished to negotiate something before his family returned south.
That would at least explain the carriage.
Had he offended someone at the ball?
He went over the evening in his mind.
He had danced.
Spoken with Adrian.
Waved at Serena.
Danced with Seraphina.
Asked whether he might write to Seraphina after returning home.
None of those things seemed criminal.
Although Aurelian had learned that in Evelina, very little needed to be criminal before becoming socially catastrophic.
Perhaps this did concern Serena.
That possibility calmed him slightly.
Their conversation during his formal presentation had gone well. He had managed to leave the palace without proposing marriage, insulting the monarchy, inviting her to Bellafonte, or causing any other disaster of political significance.
Surely that counted for something.
Then the carriage turned away from the main palace entrance.
Aurelian sat straighter.
The Star Palace came into view.
He had only seen it from a distance before.
The smaller royal residence stood within the palace grounds beyond a private garden, reserved largely for the queen’s leisure, intimate gatherings, and meetings that did not require the ceremony of the main palace.
White roses climbed its pale stone walls, winding through dark ivy. Carefully tended flower beds bordered the path, and narrow windows reflected the midday sun.
The beauty of the place did nothing for Aurelian’s nerves.
A footman opened the carriage door, and he stepped down.
Still no explanation.
He was escorted through a quiet entrance, along a corridor lined with landscapes, and toward a private receiving room.
Perhaps Serena wanted to speak with him before he left.
Perhaps she wished to ask about books.
Perhaps—
The doors opened.
Aurelian stepped inside.
And immediately realized he had been far too optimistic.
Waiting beside the tea table was not Princess Serena.
It was Queen Celeste Evelina.
Seraphina’s older sister.
Aurelian stopped.
Her Majesty looked considerably less intimidating than he had expected.
That did not make him feel any better.
Celeste had clearly chosen leisure over ceremony. She wore a pale-green day dress trimmed with delicate white lace, her golden hair pinned neatly at the back with simple silver ornaments. There was no crown, no moon-opal necklace, no heavy ceremonial jewelry.
She looked less like the Queen of Evelina than she had during his formal presentation.
Somehow, that made the meeting feel more personal.
Celeste smiled.
Aurelian became suddenly aware of his hands.
He sincerely hoped they were not shaking.
He stepped forward and bowed.
“Your Majesty.”
To his considerable surprise, the greeting came flawlessly.
His posture was correct. The bow was precisely as deep as it ought to be, and he rose without stumbling, forgetting her title, or otherwise giving future courtiers something embarrassing to recount about Baron Bellafonte.
Lady Lockwood’s training had apparently carved royal etiquette directly into his bones.
Celeste’s smile widened.
“Well done, Baron Bellafonte.”
Aurelian blinked.
“Your Majesty?”
“That was a very fine greeting. Lady Lockwood has been diligent with you.”
Warmth crept into his face.
“She has been extremely diligent, Your Majesty.”
“I suspected as much.”
Before Aurelian could decide whether that was praise, Celeste gestured toward the settee across from her.
“Please. Sit.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
A servant poured tea.
Within moments, Aurelian found himself seated before an elaborate spread of pastries, sugared fruits, crumpets, cakes, and delicate sandwiches while the Queen of Evelina regarded him from across the table.
If she had appeared angry, perhaps he would have felt better. Anger, at least, would have suggested what sort of danger he was facing.
Instead, Celeste simply looked curious.
It reminded him faintly of Marquise Beaumont examining some unfamiliar flower in her greenhouse.
Several seconds passed.
Aurelian waited.
Celeste drank her tea.
Finally, he could bear it no longer.
“Your Majesty?”
“Yes?”
“Have I done something wrong?”
Her eyebrows rose.
“Why would you assume that?”
“You sent a royal carriage to my home without warning.”
“That is true.”
“My mother nearly fainted.”
Celeste pressed her lips together.
Aurelian stared.
The Queen of Evelina was trying not to laugh at his mother’s distress.
“I apologize to Lady Bellafonte,” Celeste said, though the brightness in her eyes suggested limited remorse. “I had not intended to alarm your household.”
“I believe the carriage alarmed us more than an invitation would have.”
“Then next time, I shall send a letter first.”
Aurelian looked up.
Next time?
Celeste calmly lifted her cup.
He decided not to question it.
“Have you enjoyed your stay in the capital?”
The abrupt change in subject made him suspicious.
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Very much?”
Aurelian considered.
Then smiled.
“More than I expected.”
“And what would you say has been your favorite part of the season?”
There were several possibilities.
A few of the formal engagements had been genuinely enjoyable. The bookstores alone could have occupied him for weeks.
Yet neither was the first thing that came to mind.
“The people, perhaps.”
Celeste’s attention sharpened almost imperceptibly.
“The friends I made,” he clarified.
“That surprises you?”
Aurelian nodded and looked down at his tea.
“I was rather sheltered growing up. My family was loving, and Bellafonte was never lonely, but I did not have many opportunities to meet people outside the territory.”
He smiled faintly.
“Making friends was one of the things I hoped for when we came here. I simply did not know whether I would be particularly good at it.”
“And were you?”
“I believe so.”
Aurelian thought of Echo.
Varian.
Evelyne.
Cecily.
Even the strange collection of people he had met through Lady Lockwood’s relentless scheduling.
“I am happy with the people I met.”
Celeste hummed thoughtfully.
“You seem to have made quite a number of friends. Lady Echo Sinclair. Lord Varian Ambrose. Lady Evelyne Thierry.”
“Yes.”
She tilted her head.
“And my sister.”
Aurelian’s teacup stopped halfway to his lips.
He slowly lowered it.
“Duchess Vaelmont?”
Celeste’s smile widened by a fraction.
“I only have one sister, Baron Bellafonte.”
“Of course.”
His face began to warm.
“Then yes. I would consider Her Grace a friend.”
“A friend.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Aurelian had the uncomfortable sensation that he had walked directly into a trap.
He simply had no idea where it was.
“You strike me as an honest man, Baron Bellafonte.”
That sounded suspiciously like both a compliment and a warning.
“Thank you, Your Majesty.”
“Then tell me honestly.”
Celeste set down her cup.
“What do you think of my sister?”
Aurelian froze.
Ah.
Somewhere between the tea and sugared fruit, he had wandered into an interrogation.
He chose his words carefully.
“She is gracious. Thoughtful, too, though perhaps not in the way people expect.”
Celeste listened without interrupting.
“She notices things,” Aurelian continued. “Small things. More than I think most people realize.”
Something in the queen’s expression softened.
He thought of the bookstore, of Seraphina remembering his writing, of the subtle way she had adjusted her steps while they danced so he would never stumble badly enough for the court to notice.
“She is bold. Intelligent. Disciplined. Very capable.”
“That sounds almost like an official military assessment.”
Aurelian flushed.
“I did not mean it that way.”
“I know.”
He relaxed slightly.
“She is considerate, even if she does not make a performance of it. And she has been exceedingly kind to me.”
A small smile touched Celeste’s mouth.
“There are many words I could use to describe her, Your Majesty.”
“All good ones?”
“Entirely.”
Celeste hummed.
Then she asked, with perfect calm, “What about beautiful?”
Aurelian stared.
His mind emptied.
Completely.
Celeste rested her hands around her cup.
“Do you find my sister beautiful, Baron Bellafonte?”
There were several possible answers.
Every one of them seemed dangerous.
Aurelian could lie.
That might have been safer.
Possibly.
Except Celeste already seemed to know the truth, and Aurelian had never been particularly talented at dishonesty.
So, as usual when cornered by a question he could not gracefully avoid, he answered honestly.
“She is very beautiful.”
The words came with horrifying ease.
Heat flooded his face.
“Inwardly and outwardly,” he added.
That somehow made everything worse.
Celeste’s eyebrows lifted.
“I only meant that Her Grace is—”
“Beautiful?”
Aurelian closed his eyes for half a second.
“Yes.”
“Inside and out?”
His blush deepened.
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Celeste’s lips curved.
Aurelian stared desperately into his tea.
He had the distinct impression that he had given the queen precisely what she wanted.
“How interesting.”
“I do not believe it is particularly interesting. Most people would agree Duchess Vaelmont is beautiful.”
“I was not asking most people.”
That silenced him.
Celeste leaned back slightly.
“You have spent a fair amount of time with her.”
“Not intentionally.”
The answer escaped before Aurelian could stop it.
Celeste laughed.
His eyes widened.
“I did not mean that negatively. We happened to meet at the bookstore.”
“So I heard.”
“And the tea afterward was her suggestion.”
“I heard that as well.”
Of course she had.
“She also danced with you at the ball.”
“Yes.”
“The opening dance.”
His ears warmed.
“Yes.”
“And you invited her to Bellafonte.”
“That was before I knew who she was.”
Celeste smiled.
“Would you not have invited her if you had known?”
Aurelian opened his mouth.
Then closed it.
That was considerably worse.
“I suppose I would have been more nervous.”
“That was not my question.”
Of course it was not.
Aurelian looked down at his hands.
His thoughts returned to their first meeting.
Moonlight over the veranda.
The gardens below.
Seraphina beside him while he spoke about sunflower fields, red roads, summer rain, horses, his mother’s flowers, and Bellafonte’s endless warmth.
He had wanted her to see it.
Not Duchess Vaelmont.
Not the commander of the royal knights.
Not the queen’s sister.
Seraphina.
Knowing her title might have frightened him.
It would not have changed what he meant.
“Yes,” he admitted quietly. “I still would have invited her.”
Celeste studied him.
For the first time since the conversation began, the amusement in her expression faded.
“What are your intentions toward my sister?”
Aurelian nearly choked on air.
“My intentions?”
“Yes.”
“I do not have any.”
Celeste blinked.
Aurelian heard the sentence only after it escaped.
His horror was immediate.
“No. That is not what I meant.”
One of Celeste’s eyebrows rose.
“I mean I do not have improper intentions. Or romantic intentions. Or intentions of—”
Aurelian stopped.
Every explanation made the first worse.
Celeste lifted one hand.
“Aurelian.”
The use of his given name startled him into silence.
“I am not accusing you of anything.”
Her voice was gentler now.
“I am asking whether you wish to court Seraphina.”
“No.”
The answer came too quickly.
Celeste’s expression became unreadable.
Aurelian saw it and panicked.
“Not because I would object.”
Another raised brow.
He pressed his lips together.
This would have been an excellent time to stop speaking.
Unfortunately, he did not.
“I simply have never considered it.”
“Why?”
Aurelian stared at her.
The answer seemed so obvious that for a moment he wondered whether she was teasing him.
“Because she is Duchess Vaelmont.”
Celeste waited.
“And the Moon of the Empire.”
Still nothing.
Aurelian frowned.
“She is one of the highest-ranking women in the empire.”
“Yes.”
“And I am a country baron.”
“Yes.”
Why did every reason sound weaker once spoken aloud?
“Her Grace belongs to an entirely different world than I do,” he said finally.
Celeste’s amusement disappeared.
“She does?”
“I believe so.”
His voice grew quieter.
“She was raised alongside the royal family. She commands knights. She advises the crown. People know her titles throughout the empire.”
A faint, self-conscious smile touched his mouth.
“I tend gardens.”
Celeste said nothing.
“I write poetry that no one reads.”
“That is by choice.”
Aurelian glanced at her.
“My sister mentioned it.”
Of course she had.
He continued before he lost the courage.
“I spend my mornings discussing crop rotations with my father. I know more about irrigation than military strategy. Half my correspondence concerns roads, warehouses, merchants, or weather.”
His fingers curled loosely against his knees.
“I am proud of Bellafonte. I would never be ashamed of my family or my home.”
Celeste’s expression softened.
“But Seraphina…”
He stopped.
The name had slipped free without title or distance.
Simply Seraphina.
Aurelian noticed.
Unfortunately, so did Celeste.
He continued more quietly.
“She is extraordinary.”
There was no self-pity in the statement.
No embarrassment over what he was.
Only certainty.
Celeste leaned back.
“And you believe my sister would care that you are a baron?”
Aurelian hesitated.
“I believe she deserves someone who can stand beside her.”
“And you cannot?”
The question struck harder than he expected.
Aurelian straightened.
“I did not say that.”
“You implied it.”
He fell silent.
When Celeste spoke again, a faint sharpness rested beneath her gentle tone.
“My sister does not require a duke beside her, Baron Bellafonte. Nor a prince, a general, or a man with enough titles to fill the front of an invitation.”
She reached for her tea.
“Seraphina has titles enough of her own.”
Something tightened in Aurelian’s chest.
“The empire has spent most of her life telling her how important she is. What she lacks are people willing to see her when those things are stripped away.”
Aurelian went still.
He thought again of the veranda.
He had known nothing then.
Not her rank.
Not her family.
Not the legend attached to her name.
He had seen silver hair beneath moonlight.
A sword.
A stranger who seemed as eager to escape the ballroom as he was.
And he had liked her.
Nothing more complicated than that.
“Seraphina has spent most of her life surrounded by people who want something from her,” Celeste continued. “Her influence. Her command. Her connection to the crown. Her approval.”
Aurelian thought of the way people watched Seraphina at every gathering.
Of her surprise when he asked whether she was tired rather than how training the royal knights was progressing.
“She does not trust easily. Very few people are allowed close enough to know anything beyond what the empire has decided Duchess Vaelmont should be.”
Celeste’s eyes settled on him.
“You appear to have managed it without realizing you were trying.”
Aurelian’s heart gave an uncomfortable thump.
“I am her friend.”
“Yes.”
Celeste did not challenge him.
Somehow that made the word feel less secure.
The room suddenly seemed warmer.
Celeste broke a small pastry neatly in half.
“Would you object,” she asked almost casually, “if my sister wanted more than friendship from you?”
Everything inside Aurelian stopped.
He stared.
The answer should have been simple.
If the thought repulsed him, he could say no.
Instead, his mind filled all at once.
Her silver hair beneath moonlight.
A rare smile between bookstore shelves.
The ridiculous red novel tapping against his head.
Her invitation to walk after both their errands were finished.
The quiet pleasure in her face when he admitted he had begun writing again.
Her hand in his before the entire court.
The capital will be quieter after you leave.
The warmth he had carried throughout their dance.
His disappointment when the music ended.
The fact that the idea of leaving Evelina without some way to remain in her life had bothered him enough to ask whether he could write.
His heart began beating harder.
“I…”
Celeste waited.
Aurelian swallowed.
“I do not know.”
She neither laughed nor pressed him.
That made the answer feel terrifyingly real.
He looked down, cheeks warm.
“I have never thought of her that way.”
Yet even as he said it, the words felt incomplete.
He had thought about her.
Far too often, perhaps.
He simply had never given those thoughts a name.
There had never seemed any reason to.
Seraphina was the Duchess of Vaelmont.
The Moon of the Empire.
Commander of the Royal Knights.
The queen’s sister.
And he was Aurelian.
“I never believed there was anything to consider,” he admitted.
Celeste watched him quietly.
Then, very gently, she said, “Perhaps you should.”
His eyes lifted.
The teasing had disappeared from her expression.
“I am not telling you what you feel,” she said. “And I am not telling you what my sister feels. Those are matters for the two of you to discover yourselves.”
Aurelian listened.
“But if the only reason you have never allowed yourself to consider the possibility is rank, then dismiss it.”
He stared.
“Your Majesty?”
“You heard me.”
“But—”
“Seraphina is a duchess. You are a baron. Neither fact prevents affection.”
Aurelian’s lips parted.
Nothing emerged.
“You seem to imagine that rank places her beyond your reach. It does not.”
“But surely there would be expectations.”
“There are always expectations.”
Her voice carried the weariness of someone who knew that better than he ever could.
“They are not the same as impossibilities.”
Aurelian sat utterly still.
Celeste lifted her teacup.
“And should your friendship ever become something more…”
She paused.
Aurelian barely breathed.
“…you have my blessing.”
His mind emptied.
Completely.
The Queen of Evelina had just given him permission to court her sister.
A sister he was not courting.
A sister he had never intended to court.
A sister he had, until this conversation, never seriously imagined he could court.
Aurelian stared.
Celeste waited.
“Oh.”
Her eyes sparkled.
That was all he managed.
“Oh?”
He swallowed.
“Thank you?”
For one heartbeat, Celeste remained perfectly composed.
Then she laughed.
Not the polite laugh of a queen entertaining nobles.
A genuine one.
Aurelian closed his eyes.
Somehow, he had survived a private interrogation by the Queen of Evelina and still managed to become entertainment.
Again.
• • •
Aurelian remembered very little of leaving the Star Palace.
He remembered bowing.
Thanking Celeste for the tea.
Walking through the quiet corridors beside a servant who appeared to find nothing unusual about the fact that Baron Bellafonte had apparently forgotten how legs worked.
Then the carriage door closed behind him.
And there was nothing left to distract him from what had happened.
Do you find my sister beautiful?
Yes.
That answer had required almost no thought.
Would you object if my sister wanted more than friendship from you?
That one had.
Aurelian pressed both hands over his face.
He should have said something sensible.
Instead, he had said he did not know.
Which was not a refusal.
Why had he not refused?
He lowered his hands.
Because the thought had not been unpleasant.
His stomach turned strangely.
That realization was considerably more alarming.
Seraphina.
Not Duchess Vaelmont.
Not the commander.
Seraphina.
He pictured her at the bookstore, hair tied high, a military history beneath one arm and that ridiculous red romance novel in the other.
Then the ballroom.
The way she had searched the crowd and walked directly toward him.
The way her hand had remained around his after the music ended.
What would it actually mean to court her?
Warmth climbed immediately up his neck.
Would he bring her flowers?
What kind?
Certainly not roses.
Too ordinary.
Something from Bellafonte, perhaps—
Aurelian straightened.
No.
That was already dangerously close to imagining this seriously.
He was not courting Seraphina.
Seraphina had not asked him to court her.
No one had declared anything.
The queen had simply—
Given him her blessing.
Aurelian covered his face again.
Why would Celeste do that unless—
He stopped himself.
She had explicitly said she was not telling him what Seraphina felt.
Perhaps she was only protecting her sister.
Perhaps the rumors had concerned her, and she wanted to make certain Aurelian had no intention of using Seraphina’s affection or reputation to his advantage.
That explanation was sensible.
Comforting.
It lasted approximately three seconds.
Then he remembered the queen asking whether he found Seraphina beautiful.
His face burned.
“Oh, no.”
The words escaped quietly into the carriage.
Aurelian lowered his hands.
No.
He had already used that reaction once.
Oh, no had belonged to the moment Echo informed him that Lady Sera was actually Duchess Seraphina Vaelmont.
That had been fear of rank.
This was something else.
Because now he knew exactly who Seraphina was.
He knew her responsibilities.
Her reputation.
How intimidating half the empire found her.
He knew she liked military histories and neglected sleep.
That she teased him more than most people realized.
That her smiles changed when they were genuine.
That she remembered things he expected everyone else to forget.
And knowing all of that did not make the possibility less appealing.
Quite the opposite.
Aurelian sank back against the seat.
For weeks, he had assumed the distance between them existed because of who Seraphina was.
Now he wondered whether that distance had ever existed anywhere except in his own mind.
Outside, Evelina moved past the carriage windows.
Tomorrow, he was leaving.
For the first time, he wished he were not.
• • •
Back inside the Star Palace, Celeste remained seated until Aurelian’s footsteps disappeared down the corridor.
Sunlight lay across the abandoned tea service.
His cup remained half-finished beside a plate of pastries he had barely touched.
Celeste lifted her own.
Took a leisurely sip.
Then said, “You may come out now.”
Silence.
Another sip.
“Seraphina.”
The adjoining door opened.
Her younger sister stepped into the room.
Seraphina’s expression was composed.
Celeste knew her far too well to believe that meant anything.
“You enjoyed that,” Seraphina said.
“Immensely.”
“You frightened him.”
“He survived.”
“Barely.”
Celeste smiled into her cup.
Seraphina crossed the room and took the chair Aurelian had recently vacated.
“You could have been gentler.”
“I was extremely gentle.”
“You asked whether he found me beautiful.”
“I did.”
Seraphina gave her a flat look.
Celeste’s smile widened.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Seraphina glanced toward the tea table.
Her gaze lingered briefly on Aurelian’s abandoned cup.
Celeste noticed.
Of course she did.
More interesting was the stillness that had settled over her sister.
Not uncertainty.
Something quieter.
Resolved.
Celeste set down her tea.
“Oh?”
Seraphina looked at her.
“What?”
“You have decided something.”
“I have said nothing.”
“You rarely need to.”
Seraphina looked away.
Confirmation enough.
Celeste leaned comfortably into the settee.
“He did not reject you.”
Seraphina’s gaze snapped back.
“I did not ask him anything.”
“No.”
Celeste smiled.
“I did.”
“For which I did not give you permission.”
“You are welcome.”
Her sister stared at her with an expression capable of freezing the northern border.
It had no effect whatsoever.
“You interfered.”
“I clarified.”
“You interrogated him.”
“I offered tea.”
“You asked what his intentions were.”
“And now I know.”
“You already knew he had none.”
“I suspected.”
Celeste reached for a sugared strawberry.
“Now I know why.”
That quieted them both.
Because beneath the humor, it mattered.
Aurelian had not recoiled at the thought of Seraphina.
He had not said he could never imagine wanting her.
He had simply never believed the possibility belonged to him.
Celeste looked at her sister.
“So?”
Seraphina knew precisely what she meant.
“He is leaving tomorrow.”
“That is not an answer.”
“No.”
She turned toward the windows.
Beyond them, the gardens stretched toward the road where Aurelian’s carriage had already disappeared behind the trees.
“He needs time.”
Celeste studied her profile.
That was not the answer she had expected.
It was, however, very Seraphina.
“You are going to give it to him?”
“He has spent weeks having the capital decide what every word between us means.”
A faint irritation entered Seraphina’s voice.
“I will not become another person telling him what he is supposed to feel.”
Celeste’s expression softened.
“So you intend to do nothing?”
Seraphina was silent for a moment.
“I did not say that.”
Ah.
There it was.
Celeste smiled.
Seraphina saw it immediately.
“Do not.”
“I said nothing.”
“You are thinking very loudly.”
That sounded suspiciously familiar.
Celeste reached for her tea.
“He thinks you are beautiful.”
“I heard.”
“Very beautiful.”
Seraphina’s expression remained composed.
“Inside and out.”
“Celeste.”
A faint pink appeared at the tips of her ears.
Celeste nearly laughed.
There were few pleasures in life as rare as watching the Moon of the Empire blush.
“He also spoke your name without your title.”
Seraphina glanced at her.
“He was distracted.”
“Certainly.”
“You are insufferable.”
“So Richard tells me.”
Seraphina turned back toward the window.
For years, she had treated marriage as something distant.
Possible someday.
Perhaps necessary.
Never wanted.
Men approached her because of Vaelmont.
Because of the crown.
Because marrying the queen’s sister could transform a family’s fortunes overnight.
Seraphina saw through them too easily.
Then Aurelian Bellafonte had appeared.
A man who invited her home before knowing who she was.
Who asked whether she slept enough.
Who talked to her about books and gardens with the same sincerity other men reserved for politics and war.
Who had spent weeks calling what existed between them friendship because it had never occurred to him that anything else might be possible.
Celeste almost pitied him.
Almost.
“He did not say he did not want you,” she said more quietly.
Seraphina’s expression shifted.
Barely.
“I know.”
“He simply never believed he could.”
“I heard.”
“And now?”
Seraphina did not answer immediately.
Beyond the windows, the palace gates were barely visible through the trees.
A long moment passed.
Then she said, “Now he knows.”
Something in her voice made Celeste straighten.
Not triumph.
Not certainty.
Intention.
Celeste knew that tone.
She had heard it before military campaigns.
Before political confrontations.
Before Seraphina decided that something difficult was not the same thing as impossible.
A smile spread across her face.
Seraphina noticed without turning.
“Do not.”
Celeste ignored her.
“At this rate, Serena is going to have an uncle before she has a husband.”
Seraphina turned so quickly that Celeste finally burst into laughter.
“Celeste.”
“What?”
“Stop.”
“I said nothing unreasonable.”
“You said something ridiculous.”
Celeste lifted her cup, entirely unbothered.
“Did I?”
Seraphina’s stare remained useless against her older sister.
Eventually, she turned back toward the window.
The faint color had not entirely left her cheeks.
Celeste hid her smile behind her tea.
Perhaps ridiculous was not the same thing as impossible.
Chapter discussion