PART 2: NORTHERN MOON
· · ─ ·☽𖤓☾· ─ · ·
The sun had only just risen over the southern fields, though many of the farmers had already been working for hours, gathering the morning harvest and loading baskets and bundles onto waiting carts.
Several horse-drawn carts stood along the red-dirt road, their horses resting beneath the growing warmth of the morning sun. Some lowered their heads toward buckets of water while others lazily swatted flies away with their tails.
One of the older farmers lifted the last bundle onto his cart before straightening with a tired exhale. He wiped the sweat from his brow and the back of his neck with a handkerchief, then glanced toward the nearby rice paddy.
A smile crossed his weathered face.
"I have to stop by Ben's place!" he called. "Would you like a ride?"
A man standing knee-deep among the rows of rice looked up.
His black trousers had been rolled well above his calves, and his loose cotton shirt hung open at the collar, the sleeves pushed carelessly to his elbows. A wide straw hat shaded his face.
He smiled and removed it.
Golden hair caught the rising sunlight, shining brightly against the green fields, while crimson eyes narrowed against the sudden glare.
"I'll go with you."
Aurelian carefully made his way out of the water and climbed onto the narrow path bordering the paddy. He slipped his shoes back on before walking toward the cart, carrying the straw hat loosely at his side.
"I need to stop by Mrs. Sarah's as well," he added. "Mother asked me to bring home some bread."
"Then you'd better come along."
Aurelian laughed softly and climbed onto the back of the cart.
The farmer urged the horses forward, and the wooden wheels began their familiar rattle along the dirt road.
Around them, Bellafonte was already awake.
Workers moved between fields beneath the morning sun. Carts traveled slowly toward the villages and markets with their harvests. Somewhere beyond the rice paddies, someone called after a stubborn horse, while farther down the road came the faint sound of laughter.
Aurelian rested one arm against the side of the cart and watched the countryside pass.
Three months had passed since his return from Evelina.
Since coming home at the beginning of August, Aurelian had gradually fallen back into the familiar rhythm of his duties. There were fields to inspect, accounts to review, merchants to meet, and countless smaller matters throughout the nearby towns and villages that somehow found their way to him.
Whenever he had the time, he still lent a hand where he could, whether that meant helping with a harvest, checking damaged fencing, visiting one of the villages, or simply carrying supplies where they were needed.
In many ways, life had returned to normal.
There was only one significant difference.
The mail.
Before his season in Evelina, Aurelian had rarely received personal correspondence beyond the occasional formal letter or message concerning Bellafonte business.
Now, letters arrived constantly.
Varian and Evelyne often wrote together, their correspondence filled mostly with the latest happenings in the capital. Varian supplied the gossip with considerably more enthusiasm, while Evelyne occasionally added corrections in the margins whenever she believed he had exaggerated.
Echo wrote regularly as well. She told him about the gatherings she had begun attending for herself rather than on his behalf and had recently announced that she had joined several other ladies for regular horseback rides.
Aurelian had been especially pleased by that.
Her letters sounded lighter than they had during the height of the season.
Lady Lockwood's correspondence was considerably less relaxing.
Her letters tended to contain questions rather than conversation.
Had he replied properly to Countess D'Aubrey?
Was he maintaining his correspondence with the Thierry family?
Had he remembered to send thanks for the invitations he had been unable to attend before leaving?
Aurelian sometimes felt as though he were still being examined from several hundred miles away.
Marquise Beaumont was kinder. She sent encouraging letters accompanied every so often by some small gift from Evelina: a tin of tea, pressed flowers, or some little item she claimed had reminded her of Bellafonte.
Even Marquis Adrian Leister continued to correspond with him.
Aurelian always found Adrian's letters particularly interesting to read. His writing was so polished and eloquent that Aurelian occasionally wondered whether the marquis had ever considered publishing something himself.
Yet the letters Aurelian looked forward to most were usually the shortest.
Seraphina did not write as frequently as his other acquaintances.
Her responsibilities rarely allowed her much leisure, and when a letter did arrive, she seldom filled more than a page.
She did not recount every piece of court gossip or decorate her words with elaborate compliments.
Instead, she asked about the harvest.
Whether his father's trade plans were progressing.
Whether he had continued writing.
Sometimes she mentioned the royal knights, a difficult week of training, or some matter concerning the northern border.
In return, Aurelian wrote about Bellafonte's gardens, the changing crops, his family, or some small occurrence in one of the villages that he thought she might find amusing.
There was nothing particularly unusual about their correspondence.
At least, Aurelian did not think there was.
Still, whenever Seraphina asked how he had been or reminded him not to neglect his own rest when he became busy, he always found himself smiling at the page.
He had gradually become familiar with the shape of her handwriting and the particular manner in which she ended her letters.
And although he would have been rather embarrassed to admit it, he had begun looking for her dark-blue seal whenever Vincente brought in the morning correspondence.
For Aurelian, receiving her letters had become another pleasant part of the life he had returned to.
And in Bellafonte Territory, another peaceful day was beginning.
Knowing it was nearly time for breakfast with his family, Aurelian hopped down from the slowly moving cart and thanked the farmer for the ride before making his way toward the bakery.
The smell of freshly baked bread reached him before he even stepped through the door.
He greeted Mrs. Sarah warmly, collected the loaves Carina had requested, and paid before wishing her a pleasant morning.
Outside, the village had already grown lively.
Aurelian followed the cobblestone path through the center of town as children raced past him with hoops and sticks, laughing as one or two stray dogs bounded after them as though they had been invited into the game.
The market vendors were busy arranging baskets, calling out prices, and serving the steady stream of customers moving between the stalls.
Aurelian could hardly walk more than a few steps without someone greeting him.
"Morning, my lord!"
"Baron Bellafonte!"
"Take one of these with you!"
He tried to refuse most of the offers.
He was not particularly successful.
By the time Aurelian finally reached the Bellafonte estate, he carried considerably more than the bread his mother had requested.
A bouquet of freshly cut sunflowers rested beneath one arm, while the other supported the wrapped loaves along with a small assortment of produce that several vendors had insisted he take home.
When he entered the breakfast room, Carina and Snyder were already seated at the table.
Both looked toward him.
Then toward everything in his arms.
Carina smiled.
"You went for bread."
"I did."
Snyder glanced at the sunflowers and vegetables.
"And returned with half the market."
Aurelian looked down at his collection as though only just noticing the problem.
"They were very insistent."
That earned a quiet laugh from his mother.
Aurelian placed the flowers and produce aside before joining them at the table, immediately beginning to tell his parents about the morning he had already spent in the fields and village.
Breakfast passed comfortably as they discussed the work needed for the day: the farms Snyder intended to inspect, several household matters Carina needed to oversee, and the neighboring villages Aurelian hoped to visit before the week was out.
It was ordinary.
Familiar.
Exactly the sort of morning Aurelian had missed while living in Evelina.
· · ─ ·☽𖤓☾· ─ · ·
After a quick bath, a fresh change of clothes, and some quiet time spent reading and playing his harp, noon arrived far sooner than Aurelian expected.
He settled on the balcony adjoining his study, where the southern warmth was softened by the shade above him.
Behind him, the doors stood open to the study itself, where warm redwood furniture filled the room and ivy climbed freely along the walls between shelves crowded with books, journals, and newspapers.
A silver platter sat on the small garden table before him, piled with the morning's correspondence.
A cup of tea had yet to arrive, but Aurelian had already begun working steadily through the letters.
The first was from Countess D'Aubrey.
Aurelian smiled as he unfolded the pages. The countess had somehow managed to spend nearly half the letter complaining about her granddaughter before abruptly asking whether Aurelian might be interested in courting her.
The young woman was barely twenty.
Aurelian stared at that particular sentence for several seconds.
He would have to find a very polite way to decline.
He placed the letter aside and reached for the next bundle.
The Primrose estate had apparently decided that sending a single letter was insufficient. Four separate envelopes had been tied neatly together—one each from Cecily, Lady Florence, Isabelle, and Katerina.
Aurelian smiled immediately upon recognizing Cecily's careful handwriting.
He saved those for later.
They deserved more attention than he could give while trying to finish the rest of the pile.
Another envelope beneath them bore the unmistakable gold of the imperial household.
The formal invitation to King Richard's birthday celebration had finally arrived.
Aurelian had expected that one.
The two additional letters accompanying it, however, were considerably more surprising.
One was from Princess Serena.
The other was from Queen Celeste herself.
Aurelian hesitated before opening the queen's.
Even after three months, the memory of their private tea remained painfully clear.
He could still remember sitting across from her while she calmly questioned him about Seraphina and what he might do if their friendship ever became something more.
Heat crept slowly into his face.
He had never quite understood why Her Majesty had taken such an interest in the matter.
Perhaps she had simply been concerned about her younger sister.
After all, Seraphina had spent a considerable amount of time in his company during the season.
And the queen had been perfectly pleasant throughout their conversation.
Although—
Aurelian frowned.
There had been something rather knowing about the way she smiled at him.
He decided not to dwell on it.
Instead, he carefully placed the royal letters beside the invitation, intending to read them properly once he had finished sorting the correspondence.
Speaking of Seraphina—
Aurelian noticed a familiar dark-blue seal beneath the remaining envelopes.
His attention shifted immediately.
He reached for the letter without hesitation.
The crescent moon pressed into the wax was a welcome sight, and he carefully broke the seal with his letter opener.
He wondered whether she would mention the royal knights.
Perhaps something had happened along the northern border.
Or maybe she had finally finished the novel he had recommended and intended to tell him whether she hated it.
Aurelian smiled faintly as he unfolded the page.
Then he noticed how little had been written.
Only two sentences.
His smile disappeared.
He read them.
Once.
Then again.
And a third time.
Unfortunately, the words remained exactly the same.
I wish to court you for your hand in marriage. Prepare yourself.
Aurelian blinked.
For several moments, he sat perfectly still, holding the letter between his fingers.
Surely—
No.
That could not possibly—
He lowered the page.
His gaze wandered toward the gardens, where the afternoon sunlight rested over the flowers and the fountain continued its gentle trickling.
Everything appeared perfectly ordinary.
The birds were singing.
The sun was shining.
Someone was laughing somewhere below.
And Duchess Seraphina Vaelmont had apparently decided that she wished to marry him.
Aurelian stared at the letter on the small garden table before him.
He had stopped appreciating the view several minutes ago.
Normally, the balcony was one of his favorite places in the estate.
At present, he was considering whether jumping from it would be socially preferable to answering the letter.
Not that the fall would accomplish much.
The flower beds beneath the balcony were rather soft.
He would probably survive, thoroughly embarrass himself, and still be expected to respond.
Aurelian pressed a hand against his forehead.
A porcelain cup appeared beside his hand.
He looked up.
Vincente Blackwall stood beside the table with a teapot in one hand, his expression as composed as ever.
Chrysanthemum tea.
Of course.
Vincente had served him long enough to know when stronger measures were required.
Aurelian accepted the cup but did not drink from it.
"Did you read it?"
"I did."
Aurelian looked back at the envelope beside the letter. It was perfectly ordinary except for the broken wax seal.
Dark blue.
A crescent moon.
He had recognized it immediately.
That had been the first problem.
"What do you make of it?" Aurelian asked.
He tried to make the question sound calm.
Vincente's eyes flicked briefly toward him.
Aurelian suspected he had failed.
"The Duchess of Vaelmont wishes to court you."
Aurelian blinked.
"Yes."
Silence settled between them.
Aurelian waited.
Vincente waited as well.
Eventually, Aurelian frowned.
"Why?"
For the first time, Vincente seemed caught slightly off guard.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Why does she wish to court me?"
"I..." Vincente paused. "I could not say, my lord."
"Neither can I."
Aurelian picked up the letter again.
Two sentences had apparently been sufficient to ruin his afternoon.
He looked at the words once more.
Then slowly lowered the page.
"It sounds more like a threat than a proposal."
Vincente's mouth moved.
Barely.
Aurelian narrowed his eyes.
"You are laughing at me."
"I would never."
"You are."
"I am not."
Aurelian stared at him for another moment before giving up and dropping his head into one hand.
Of all the women in the empire, it had to be her.
Duchess Seraphina Vaelmont.
Head of one of the empire's great houses.
Commander of the royal knights.
Sister to the queen.
The Moon of the Empire.
And apparently, for reasons known only to herself, a woman interested in marrying him.
Aurelian looked down at himself as though some explanation might have appeared on his waistcoat.
None did.
He was Baron Bellafonte. That was hardly an insignificant title in the south, but no sensible person would place it beside the name Vaelmont and pretend the two carried equal weight.
More importantly, he could not think of a single thing he had done that might have convinced Seraphina that marriage to him was a reasonable course of action.
He had met her only a few months ago.
His first season in Evelina had barely ended.
Surely he had not done anything that—
Aurelian stopped.
Several memories surfaced at once.
A moonlit veranda.
A bookstore.
Tea.
A dance.
His mother staring at him as though he had personally endangered the Bellafonte bloodline.
Aurelian closed his eyes.
No.
Those could not possibly explain this.
Could they?
There had been rumors, certainly.
Endless rumors.
He remembered how the nobles had whispered when Seraphina escorted him back into the ballroom after their first meeting.
How they had reacted when he accidentally called her Lady Sera.
How a perfectly pleasant afternoon at a bookstore had somehow become a romantic excursion in the eyes of half the capital.
And then there had been the ball.
Aurelian groaned quietly.
Perhaps the court had understood something he had not.
The possibility was deeply troubling.
But as he considered those memories, another thought began to emerge beneath his embarrassment.
He liked Seraphina.
He liked her very much.
That, unfortunately, was beginning to seem like part of the problem.
Until several months ago, she had been little more than a name to him.
A name spoken with reverence, sometimes fear, and occasionally the peculiar excitement that accompanied stories of exceptionally powerful people.
He had known her as the Moon of the Empire long before he had known her as a woman.
But now—
Now he knew that she preferred to speak plainly rather than decorate every sentence with unnecessary pleasantries.
He knew that she sometimes wore her silver hair in a simpler braid when she was away from formal occasions.
He knew that her expression became faintly disapproving whenever someone suggested that she ought to rest, particularly when that someone was him.
And he knew, though he suspected she would deny it, that she possessed a surprisingly mischievous sense of humor.
Aurelian remembered the bookstore.
How easily she had fallen into step beside him.
How she had listened while he spoke about his favorite novels, despite having little apparent interest in romantic fiction.
He remembered her asking whether he intended to publish his poetry.
He had admitted his fears so readily that the memory still embarrassed him.
And Seraphina had not laughed.
She had simply told him that courage was not the absence of fear.
At the time, he had thought it a generous thing to say.
Coming from a woman who faced danger as routinely as other nobles attended afternoon tea, it had meant considerably more than she might have realized.
Then there was the dance.
He remembered the sight of her crossing the ballroom toward him, her silver hair shining beneath the chandeliers.
The way she had extended her hand, as though asking him to dance were the most natural thing in the world.
He had been nervous, of course.
Everyone had been watching.
But once they began dancing, he had found himself enjoying her company so thoroughly that the watching nobles had gradually ceased to matter.
And when she told him the capital would be quieter after his departure, something in her voice had made him wish that he could stay a little longer.
He had not examined that feeling very closely.
It had seemed unnecessary.
They were friends.
He enjoyed being around her.
Surely there was nothing particularly complicated about that.
Except now, sitting on his balcony with a marriage proposal in his hands, Aurelian was beginning to suspect that he had been avoiding several rather obvious questions.
His gaze returned to the familiar handwriting.
There was something almost painfully recognizable about its bluntness.
No elaborate declaration.
No flowery compliments.
Not even a polite inquiry as to whether he might consider the possibility of courtship.
Just two sentences.
A decision.
And a warning to prepare himself.
It was so thoroughly Seraphina that, despite everything, Aurelian felt the smallest smile threaten at the corner of his mouth.
He quickly suppressed it.
This was not funny.
It was not.
And yet—
He could almost hear her saying the words.
That calm, unwavering voice.
Those icy-blue eyes fixed upon him with the confidence of someone who had already considered every possible consequence.
Prepare yourself.
Good heavens.
She could have at least asked how he was doing first.
Aurelian covered his mouth with one hand.
His cheeks felt warm.
Across the table, Vincente watched him with an expression of professional neutrality.
"My lord?"
Aurelian straightened.
"Nothing."
"Of course."
There was another memory he could no longer ignore.
Queen Celeste.
Her invitation to tea.
The gentle but unmistakably deliberate questions she had asked about her younger sister.
And, most troubling of all, the suggestion that Aurelian might someday find himself considering Seraphina as something more than a friend.
At the time, he had struggled to imagine such a thing.
Not because he found Seraphina unpleasant.
Quite the opposite.
He thought she was extraordinary.
Beautiful, certainly, but also intelligent, capable, and far more considerate than her reputation suggested.
He had simply never imagined that someone like her could look at someone like him and see a prospective husband.
The queen had seemed rather amused by that explanation.
Now Aurelian was beginning to understand why.
Her Majesty knew.
Perhaps not about the letter itself.
But she had known something.
And he, like a fool, had believed their conversation was merely an unusual expression of sisterly concern.
Aurelian exhaled.
He looked at Vincente again.
"May I reject her?"
"Yes."
Aurelian sat straighter.
Vincente continued.
"You would simply have to inform Duchess Vaelmont that you have no interest in being courted by her."
Aurelian imagined doing exactly that.
He imagined Seraphina's pale blue eyes settling upon him.
He imagined the silence afterward.
He sank back into his chair.
"I see."
The image refused to leave him.
Seraphina standing before him, composed as always, listening while he explained that he did not wish to be courted.
Would she be angry?
Perhaps.
She was not a woman accustomed to having her decisions questioned.
But anger was not what troubled him most.
He wondered whether she would be hurt.
The thought made his chest tighten unexpectedly.
Seraphina was so difficult to read at times.
She rarely displayed disappointment openly, and he had learned that her silences could mean any number of things.
But he could picture her withdrawing into that familiar, careful composure.
He could imagine her inclining her head, accepting his answer, and never speaking of the matter again.
She would be perfectly courteous.
Perfectly reasonable.
And perhaps they would continue writing letters.
Perhaps she would still visit Bellafonte someday, as he had invited her to do.
But something would have changed.
He knew that.
Whatever existed between them now would no longer be quite the same.
Aurelian looked down at the letter.
For the first time since opening it, the thought of rejecting Seraphina frightened him more than the thought of accepting her courtship.
That realization was considerably less comforting than he would have liked.
"Would you like me to prepare a response?" Vincente asked.
"No."
The answer came so quickly that Aurelian surprised himself.
Vincente inclined his head.
Aurelian picked up his tea at last.
It had already begun to cool.
His gaze returned to the dark-blue seal lying beside the letter.
He had gone to Evelina intending to survive one social season and return peacefully to Bellafonte.
Instead, the Moon of the Empire wanted to make him her husband.
Somewhere along the way, something had gone terribly wrong.
Aurelian pressed his fingers against his forehead.
How had this happened?
He did not know whether he was ready to become anyone's husband.
He certainly did not know whether he was prepared to become Seraphina Vaelmont's husband.
The north was a world away from Bellafonte.
Her responsibilities were unlike anything he had ever known.
And marriage to the Moon of the Empire would mean stepping into a life he could scarcely imagine.
Yet the thought of never seeing her again—
Aurelian stopped.
That was hardly a fair comparison.
Refusing a marriage proposal did not necessarily mean losing a friend.
But even as he reminded himself of that perfectly reasonable fact, the uneasiness remained.
Because the truth was that he wanted to see her again.
He wanted to hear her voice without having to imagine it from the words on a page.
He wanted to tell her about the harvest and show her the gardens he had described so often.
He wanted to know whether she had been sleeping properly, whether the northern cold had worsened, and whether she had finally admitted that the novel he had recommended was an excellent one.
Perhaps the more troubling question was not how Seraphina had come to feel this way.
Perhaps it was how he had spent so many months enjoying her company, seeking her attention, and looking forward to her letters without considering what any of those things might mean.
Aurelian lowered his hand.
He was not ready to tell Seraphina that he had no interest in being courted by her.
Because he was no longer entirely certain that such an answer would be truthful.
He glanced toward Vincente, who was quietly arranging the remaining correspondence on the silver platter.
"Do you suppose Her Grace is expecting an immediate answer?"
Vincente considered the question.
"Given the wording, my lord, I suspect Her Grace expects you to prepare yourself."
Aurelian stared at him.
Vincente's expression did not change.
"That is not helpful."
"My apologies."
Aurelian sighed.
Then, rather helplessly, he looked at the letter again.
There was still one possibility he had not completely dismissed.
Perhaps it was a jest.
Seraphina did occasionally tease him, after all.
Perhaps she had written it knowing perfectly well that he would panic.
Except there was no second page.
No additional note.
Nothing to suggest that she was anything less than serious.
Aurelian folded the letter carefully along its original creases.
He tried to imagine Seraphina sitting at her desk, composing those words before placing them on the page.
Had she been nervous?
The possibility seemed almost ridiculous.
Seraphina Vaelmont, nervous over a letter?
And yet she had written to him.
Not to his father.
Not to his mother.
Not to a royal intermediary who might have negotiated an appropriate arrangement between their families.
To him.
For all the authority carried by her title, she had chosen to make her intentions known to Aurelian directly.
Perhaps that deserved something more thoughtful than the panicked refusal he had nearly requested.
He placed the folded page beside his cup.
"Oh, Lady Sera," he murmured helplessly. "What am I supposed to do with you?"
There was, of course, no answer.
Only the gentle sound of the garden fountain.
And the letter waiting patiently on the table.
· · ─ ·☽𖤓☾· ─ · ·
"A marriage proposal?!"
Carina's voice rose sharply enough that tea nearly spilled over the rim of her cup.
Aurelian winced.
He had tried to explain the situation calmly.
Apparently, there was no calm way to inform one's mother that the Duchess of Vaelmont wished to court her son for marriage.
Across from them, Snyder had taken the letter from Aurelian and read it himself, his expression growing more serious with each line.
He had clearly expected something longer.
Something formal.
Perhaps several carefully worded paragraphs explaining Seraphina's intentions.
Instead, he reached the end almost immediately.
Snyder turned the page over once, as though something might have been written on the back.
"Is this all?"
Aurelian nodded.
They had gathered in his study after he sent Vincente to find his parents, and the box containing Seraphina's previous letters now sat open on the desk beside him.
"It's very straightforward," Snyder said with a frown.
"That is how she writes." Aurelian glanced toward the open box. "Not always quite this... directly, but it is certainly her."
He had already compared the handwriting and seal with her previous correspondence.
There could be no mistake about who had sent it.
As for what might have prompted the proposal, he had searched through their earlier letters for some indication of romantic interest, only to find the same familiar conversations he had enjoyed reading over the past month.
Nothing that could explain such an extraordinary development.
At least, not to his satisfaction.
Carina reached for the letter when Snyder passed it to her.
She read the two sentences herself, one hand slowly rising to her chest.
"I cannot believe it," she murmured.
Then she looked at Aurelian.
"A duchess is courting our son."
Aurelian sank a little farther into his chair.
His mother sounded almost delighted.
Snyder, however, did not share his wife's growing amazement.
"That presents a problem."
Carina's eyes shifted toward him.
Snyder leaned back, his expression troubled.
"The difference in rank between you is considerable, Aurelian. She is not merely a duchess. She commands the royal knights, holds considerable political influence, and belongs to the imperial family through her sister."
"I know, Father."
"And if this becomes a formal courtship, people will talk. Some will ridicule you. Others may resent you simply because they believe you have risen above your station."
Aurelian lowered his gaze.
During his season in Evelina, he had already experienced enough attention to understand how quickly public admiration could become something unpleasant.
He had also learned that not everyone approved of Seraphina's interest in him.
Snyder's voice softened.
"I fear that accepting her courtship may bring you hatred you have done nothing to deserve, Asael."
Aurelian looked up immediately.
His father rarely used his middle name.
Almost no one did.
Middle names were not spoken casually within the empire. They belonged to the private spaces between family and lovers, names considered too intimate to be offered freely to acquaintances or strangers.
Hearing Asael now told Aurelian more than Snyder's expression ever could.
His father was worried.
Not about Bellafonte.
Not about what such a match might offer their family.
About him.
Aurelian's hands tightened slightly in his lap.
"I understand."
And unfortunately, understanding did nothing to make the situation easier.
Carina looked between them.
"I do not believe Her Grace would make such an offer without serious consideration."
"Nor do I," Snyder replied. "That is precisely why we must be careful."
He glanced at the letter in his wife's hand.
"She knows what she wants, but we have no idea what she expects from our son."
Aurelian considered that.
He knew Seraphina well enough to believe she would never deliberately place him in an unhappy position.
But marriage was quite different from friendship.
He could not imagine that someone with her responsibilities would be free to arrange her life according to personal affection alone.
And he had no idea what becoming her husband might actually require of him.
Would he have to leave Bellafonte?
Would he be expected to live in the north?
What responsibilities would accompany such a marriage?
There were countless questions he had never thought to ask because, until that afternoon, none of them had seemed relevant to his life.
He looked toward his father.
"I suppose I should speak with her before deciding anything."
Snyder nodded.
"That would be wise."
"Although," Carina added, with a small smile, "I should think it rather wonderful that she wishes to court you."
"Mother."
"What? Am I not allowed to be pleased that someone has recognized my son's good qualities?"
Aurelian felt his ears grow warm.
Snyder gave his wife a mildly exasperated look.
"Carina."
She turned toward him.
"Do not look at me like that. I am perfectly aware of the difficulties involved."
Her expression softened as she regarded Aurelian.
"I simply think we ought to remember that Her Grace is also a woman who has taken an interest in our son. Before we speak of all the things that might go wrong, perhaps we should allow him to decide how he feels about her."
Aurelian stared at his mother.
That was, unfortunately, the one question he had been doing his best to avoid.
His feelings about Seraphina.
He knew he admired her.
He trusted her.
Her company made him happy.
But whether those things were enough to become something more—
"Excuse me."
Vincente entered the study with considerably more urgency than usual.
Aurelian looked up.
Another envelope was in his hand.
Another dark-blue seal.
His stomach dropped.
"My lord, this has just arrived."
Aurelian accepted it with a quiet thanks and broke the wax almost immediately.
Snyder and Carina watched from across the room as he unfolded the single sheet inside.
His eyes moved quickly over the words.
Then widened.
"What does it say?" Carina asked.
Aurelian cleared his throat and read aloud.
"I have realized I failed to mention where I would like to meet to discuss this matter. Before my brother-in-law's celebration, I would like to meet privately in my quarters at the castle. I will greet your parents accordingly before we speak alone."
Aurelian nearly choked.
"In the castle?!"
Carina pressed a hand to her mouth.
"Oh, my light."
She attempted to hide the unmistakable excitement in her voice.
She failed.
Especially when Aurelian's face began turning red.
"Privately?" he repeated, staring at the letter. "In her quarters?"
That somehow made everything worse.
He had imagined meeting Seraphina in some quiet drawing room, perhaps over tea, where they could discuss the proposal like reasonable adults.
He had not expected her to invite him directly into her private quarters at the imperial palace.
Although, considering the first letter, he supposed he should have expected something of the sort.
Snyder held out his hand for the page.
Aurelian passed it over.
His father read the message with an expression that suggested the duchess had personally shortened his lifespan.
"At least she intends to speak with us beforehand."
Carina gave a pleased hum.
"How considerate."
Snyder looked at her.
Carina smiled innocently.
Aurelian wished, quite sincerely, that everyone would stop looking so delighted.
"Send a response," Snyder said.
He raised a hand toward Vincente, who seemed to have anticipated the instruction. Within moments, fresh paper, ink, and a pen had been placed before Aurelian.
Aurelian looked from the writing supplies to his father.
"What am I supposed to say?"
"Do not accept the proposal," Snyder instructed. "Do not reject it either. Simply tell her that you agree to meet and discuss the matter in person."
Aurelian slowly reached for the pen.
Snyder folded his arms.
"I still worry this is a bad idea."
Carina gave her husband a look.
"Our son is tougher than he looks."
Snyder's expression remained doubtful.
"Carina."
"He is." She glanced toward Aurelian. "Although he can be somewhat of an airhead, he is perfectly capable of holding his own."
Aurelian paused with the pen halfway to the paper.
"Mother."
Carina ignored him.
"This is not merely about whether he can handle a difficult conversation," Snyder said. "The Duchess of Vaelmont is one of the most powerful people in the empire. Some people may see their courtship as an opportunity to gain influence. Others may consider Aurelian an obstacle."
The humor faded from Carina's expression.
Snyder continued more quietly.
"Ridicule is one thing. I am far more concerned about what someone might do if they decided he had become a threat to their ambitions."
Aurelian looked down at the blank page before him.
He remembered the gentlemen's gathering at the Argent Aile.
The way Lord Winford had spoken of Seraphina, as though her interest and judgment were matters for other men to debate.
He remembered how quickly a pleasant conversation could become a contest of pride and influence.
And that had been before any formal declaration of courtship.
If Seraphina truly intended to marry him, those who resented her attention would have considerably more reason to dislike him.
Still, something about his father's concerns troubled Aurelian in another way.
Would Seraphina face similar criticism?
She was powerful enough that few people dared insult her openly, but Aurelian had seen how nobles whispered whenever she behaved in a manner they considered unexpected.
A duchess choosing a country baron as her husband would hardly escape their scrutiny.
He wondered whether she had considered that.
Knowing Seraphina, she probably had.
Perhaps she had already decided that none of it mattered.
That seemed very much like her.
Aurelian glanced toward the first letter resting on the desk.
He had spent most of the afternoon wondering why she wanted him.
He had given comparatively little thought to what it might have cost her to make that decision.
His expression softened.
"Then I will speak with her first."
Snyder gave a small nod.
"That is all you should promise."
Aurelian dipped his pen into the ink.
For several seconds, he considered how to address her.
Your Grace seemed unnecessarily distant after all the letters they had exchanged.
Lady Sera, on the other hand, seemed rather inappropriate for a response to a marriage proposal.
He eventually settled on a simple greeting.
He thanked her for her letters, acknowledged her intentions, and explained that he would prefer to discuss such an important matter with her in person.
Then he confirmed that he would meet her before the king's birthday celebration.
He made no promises beyond that.
When he finished, he read the response twice before passing it to Vincente.
His attendant examined the page.
"Shall I have this sent immediately, my lord?"
Aurelian hesitated.
There was one other thing he wanted to say.
Something that had nothing to do with titles, courtship arrangements, or the considerable difficulties his father had described.
He reached for the letter again.
Beneath his formal agreement, he added a final sentence.
I look forward to seeing you again.
Aurelian stared at the words.
They were perfectly innocent.
There was nothing improper about telling a friend that he looked forward to seeing her.
And he did.
Very much.
Still, he could not bring himself to look at either of his parents as he returned the finished letter to Vincente.
"Please send it."
"Of course, my lord."
Vincente bowed and withdrew.
Aurelian leaned back in his chair.
There.
He had done it.
He had agreed to meet the Duchess of Vaelmont to discuss her intention to court him for marriage.
For some reason, the realization made his heart beat a little faster.
Carina rose from her seat and approached him.
She rested a gentle hand against his shoulder.
"Whatever happens, Aurelian, you are not required to accept simply because she is a duchess."
He looked up.
His mother smiled.
"You are allowed to want something for yourself."
Aurelian was quiet for a moment.
Then he nodded.
"I know."
Carina gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.
He appreciated her words.
He only wished he knew what it was that he wanted.
· · ─ ·☽𖤓☾· ─ · ·
As November moved into its latter half, the Bellafonte estate began repeating much of what it had done in May.
Trunks stood open in bedrooms and hallways. Servants moved constantly between rooms. Carriages were inspected, supplies counted, and travel provisions prepared for the long journey back to Evelina.
There was one important difference this time.
The clothes.
Bellafonte remained warm throughout the year, even as winter approached. Aurelian could spend a November morning standing knee-deep in a rice paddy without worrying about frost.
Evelina would be another matter.
Snow would soon begin falling farther north, and the capital would be considerably colder by the time they arrived.
Heavy coats, wool garments, gloves, scarves, and several carefully stored furs were packed into the larger trunks. Carina had made certain that no one in the family would arrive unprepared for the colder weather.
Several smaller crates contained gifts from the people of Bellafonte.
Preserved fruits, tea blends, spices, jars of honey, embroidered cloth, and other local goods had been offered by merchants, farmers, and villagers when word spread that the Bellafontes would once again be traveling to the imperial capital.
Many would be given to friends and acquaintances once they reached Evelina.
Aurelian suspected his mother had already decided exactly who would receive what.
In favorable weather, the journey would take somewhere between six and eight days.
If winter storms reached them along the road, however, that journey could easily stretch toward two weeks.
For that reason, Snyder had decided there would be no unnecessary delays.
They would leave today.
"Do you have everything?"
Carina's voice was quiet as she stood near the doorway of Aurelian's room.
"Yes, Mother."
Aurelian smiled as he fastened the last clasp on a small traveling bag.
He lifted the strap over his shoulder and took several steps toward her before something on the table caught his eye.
He stopped.
A book rested beside the lamp.
Verses Beneath the Evening Sky.
The poetry collection Cecily Primrose had given him during his first season in Evelina.
The cover had grown familiar beneath his fingers, and several of its pages had become slightly worn from the number of times he had returned to his favorite poems.
Aurelian picked it up.
He had been writing more frequently since coming home.
Not every poem was particularly good.
Some remained unfinished, abandoned between the pages of his notebooks when he could not find a satisfactory ending.
But he had continued.
And whenever he found himself doubting whether his writing was worth sharing with anyone, he remembered Seraphina standing beside him in the bookstore.
Courage is not the absence of fear.
He could still hear her voice.
She had said it so simply.
As though there were nothing remarkable about encouraging a nervous country baron to pursue something he loved.
Aurelian ran his thumb along the book's worn spine.
It was strange, really.
Seraphina had probably forgotten that conversation.
She had far more important matters to occupy her thoughts than his poetry.
And yet those few words had stayed with him.
He wondered whether she knew how often he thought of them.
Or how much confidence he had borrowed from her without ever telling her so.
"Are you bringing that?"
Carina's voice interrupted his thoughts.
Aurelian looked toward her.
"Yes."
He tucked the collection carefully into his traveling bag.
"I thought I might read during the journey."
Carina glanced at the book, then at her son.
There was something thoughtful in her expression.
But she said nothing.
Together, they left the room.
Outside, the household was completing its final preparations.
Vincente stood near the waiting carriages, checking the luggage against a list while several servants secured the last trunks.
Snyder was speaking with the coachmen about the roads they intended to take.
The courtyard smelled faintly of horses, leather, and the familiar warmth of the southern earth.
Aurelian paused beneath the entrance archway.
From there, he could see the gardens stretching toward the distant fields.
Sunflowers swayed gently in the morning breeze, their golden petals bright beneath a clear sky.
For a moment, he found himself remembering how he had felt when they first departed for Evelina.
He had been nervous then.
Terribly nervous.
The capital had seemed enormous, its society impossibly complicated, and he had been convinced that he would somehow embarrass himself before the season had even properly begun.
Which, in retrospect, had not been an entirely unreasonable concern.
He had made plenty of mistakes.
He had attracted far more attention than he ever intended.
And he had met people who had changed his understanding of the world beyond Bellafonte.
But of all the things that had happened during that season, the most unexpected had been meeting Seraphina Vaelmont.
Aurelian reached into his coat.
He had brought her first letter with him.
He had considered leaving it safely in his study, along with their other correspondence, but somehow the thought of traveling without it had seemed wrong.
Now the folded page rested in an inner pocket, where he could feel its edges against his fingers.
He had read it several more times since receiving it.
The words had never become any less extraordinary.
But the shock had gradually given way to something he could not quite name.
Anticipation, perhaps.
Or nervousness.
Probably both.
During the journey, he would have plenty of time to consider the questions he wished to ask.
What had made Seraphina decide she wanted to court him?
What did she imagine their future might look like?
Had she considered how different their lives were?
And, perhaps most importantly, why had she chosen him?
Aurelian could think of several reasons why a marriage between them would be difficult.
He could think of remarkably few reasons why Seraphina would desire one in the first place.
But there was something else he wanted to understand.
Something he could no longer dismiss as easily as he once had.
He wondered what it would be like to hold her hand again.
Not because they were dancing before the imperial court.
Not because she was escorting him through a room full of strangers.
But simply because he wanted to.
The thought startled him.
Aurelian glanced around the courtyard as though someone might have overheard it.
No one appeared to be paying him any attention.
He quickly lowered his gaze.
Good heavens.
What was happening to him?
"Lord Aurelian!"
Vincente stood beside the carriage, one hand resting against the open door.
"We are ready to depart."
Aurelian straightened.
"Coming."
He took one last look toward the familiar gardens.
Then he walked toward the carriage.
As he climbed inside, he was struck by a simple, rather inconvenient realization.
He had spent the past several days worrying about Seraphina's intentions.
About the difference in their ranks.
About the expectations that would accompany her courtship.
About what he ought to say when they finally sat down together.
But beneath all of those concerns, one feeling had remained stubbornly unchanged.
He wanted to see her.
Not the Duchess of Vaelmont.
Not the commander of the royal knights.
Not the Moon of the Empire.
Seraphina.
The woman who had listened to him speak about his home.
Who had encouraged his writing.
Who had danced with him when the whole court was watching.
And who had somehow become someone he missed without his quite realizing when it happened.
Aurelian settled against the carriage seat and rested his traveling bag beside him.
Outside, the horses began to move.
The wheels rolled slowly over the courtyard stones, carrying the Bellafonte family toward the road that would lead them north.
He looked out the window as the familiar estate began to recede behind them.
In a matter of days, he would be standing before Seraphina again.
And this time, he could not pretend that her interest in him was merely another misunderstanding created by the imperial court.
She had made her intentions perfectly clear.
Now he would have to decide what he wanted in return.
Aurelian pressed one hand lightly against the letter tucked inside his coat.
His heart gave a small, unexpected flutter.
He was still afraid.
But for the first time, he was beginning to wonder whether that was such a terrible thing.
After all, Seraphina had once told him that courage was not the absence of fear.
Perhaps it was time he discovered whether he could be courageous about something other than his poetry.
And somewhere at the end of the long road to Evelina, the Moon of the Empire was waiting for his answer.
Chapter discussion