Doves and Peacocks

The Milkshake Stand

Aleigh Luzerno, Arcane Prince of Astra, was presently enjoying what few royals ever did: a perfectly ordinary afternoon.

He was, of course, doing so at the insistence of Ruthenia, who had sought his company at her favourite milkshake stand this afternoon, and although he found the commoners’ habit of taking short meals in between errands somewhat baffling, he could not possibly have resisted her invitation even if he’d had a reason to.

To be perfectly honest he didn’t know when Ruthenia, once no more than a despicable pest to him, had crossed the line—these several lines—to become someone whose company he hated the very thought of losing.

All he did know was how he felt, watching her fish an argent out of her pouch in the heady afternoon light. A dizzying mixture of elation and shame.

She'd never look his way; he knew she wouldn’t. He knew he didn’t deserve the attention he wanted. And that was just too bad, for he had never wanted something so much before.

Aleigh remembered the day he had first spoken to Ruthenia in person. He remembered how she had said, with the earnestness no one else in Astra ever did spare him, that she didn’t care who he was.

He had been paralysed for a while, bereft of his response. Who was she, to reject everything Astran society stood for?

A reflexive wave of disgust had overcome him. But he had later found, to his bewilderment, that he had enjoyed hearing her say it and that—more disturbingly—he had wanted to hear her say it again.

Ruthenia, as he gradually learned, held a molten desire to disrupt systems at the core of her being. Every time they had met thereafter, she had spoken with the same wild abandon—whether to confirm the details of that first perfunctory transaction, or for her to scold him. As if she saw no hierarchical difference between them—as if it were irrelevant to her.

Just like that, she had flung him right out of his comfortable ideological niche, and as many deflective things as he had said in response, insolent, deplorable Ruthenia Cendina had wedged herself in his thoughts.

Several things had transpired since. He had learned that she was the daughter of a genuine martyr—and that she hated him, and hated them, because it was the only response she knew how to have, to the trauma of watching them tear her life from under her feet.

Ruthenia had opened him to the radical notion that she—and everyone else—was as complicated and as confused as he was, and he’d ceased to detest her behaviour—even to feel ashamed for having believed her beyond reason.

Then, as the story goes, surprise became curiosity and curiosity led him to interest and greater efforts to know more about her, culminating in a well-disguised invitation to Anio and Cathia’s wedding, and then that interest had grown to...

What was this, really?

Aleigh had been attached to someone before, a young lady named Orpa, for all of one year. He had entered the attachment at the behest of his brother, acceding partly because he’d foreseen no ill coming of having a partner.

To no one’s surprise but his, it had been a cold affair—growing colder still when her desires had turned to demands and it had become apparent that the attachment was how she obliged him to spoil her.

Breaking it off had been difficult. Aligon had made very certain to remind Aleigh at every turn that his love, like everything else they owned, was but a boon to be bestowed only upon those whose elevation would benefit the family. Orpa had, of course, been the perfect subject of such an advancement: the union would have served not only to absorb the first heir of their foremost rivals into the Luzerno family, but also to bolster the family’s reputation through association with the Mirenes.

Naturally, Aligon had resisted every mention of a detachment until, in secret, he had slipped out of the palace and delivered the message to Orpa by himself. His brother had refused to acknowledge his existence for an entire week thereafter.

That, in hindsight, must have been the moment his relationship with his brother had begun to degenerate, and the sting of the memory had been enough to keep him unquestioningly obedient for the two years since.

Well, that story was long past and irrelevant, for here he was, now—standing beside the girl who had recently made herself Aligon’s worst enemy.

She laid the argent on the countertop, and laughed again, wiping a tear from her eye. “Ihir, just look at me.”

As he stared on, Aleigh thought upon those many lessons he’d learned throughout his life so far. About never giving away for free anything that could fetch a price. The lessons taught by the same people who’d courted his title, his reputation, and his monetary worth, without a care for who he might be.

No one had ever said Aleigh Luzerno was good enough without his title. No one had treated him as any better than an exquisite wall portrait.

The storekeeper placed the glass of honey milkshake on the counter with a bright clink. Thanking her, Ruthenia pushed the one-argent milkshake across the wood towards him, beaming brighter than the sunset beyond her.

All the gods above and below knew—and now he knew it, too—that love was not given and taken at will. It arrived unbidden, outside of one’s control. He supposed he would have to live with repeated reminders of this fact for as long as Ruthenia Fulminare Cendina was in his life.

---

Outside the courthouse

Anio and Cathia watched Ruthenia freeze between them, her eyes going wide. They were briefly puzzled until, following the line of her gaze, they discovered the subject of her staring to be their cousin Aleigh. There was, at once, no doubt between them about her opinion of him.

Ruthenia was not the first whose fancy he had caught, of course, and there ought to be no shame in it: several men and women had come to adore him throughout the time he’d spent in the public eye.

Of course, most of them had done so from a great distance, and it was beginning to appear to them that she might be the first to have even a trace of a chance at being reciprocated.

They couldn’t say they had expected this girl, ex-criminal and recently-made hero and saint of Astra, to become in any way interested in him. Ruthenia seemed pragmatic enough, and did not look the sort to entertaining simple fancies. And it would seem, also, that she did not particularly like the Arcane class--or so they understood from the combination of what they’d seen of her, and what they knew from the palace rumours. She and Aleigh had been cordial with each other, but not intimate, when they had attended their wedding in Spring.

Yet there could be no other meaning to Ruthenia’s wide-eyed look, as she gazed off through the golden sunlight at the Luzerno brothers, than either terror or hopeless adoration.

It wasn't the first they'd heard of it. Aleigh had seemed very distracted lately, ignoring his novels and writing in his journal with increased fervency. He had even consulted the couple on one occasion, asking after the process of their attachment. Although his behaviour had puzzled them previously, it appeared to them now that the cause of his changed attitude must be she.

The two exchanged smug smiles, and then Cathia gave her a nudge. "Does His Highness not look terribly discomfited?” she said. “The poor boy. Ruthenia, you must go remedy his mood at once."

Ruthenia glanced back at them, and gave no more than an eager nod before making off, all too hurriedly, in his direction.

Anio and Cathia glanced once again at each other and chuckled. They watched with increasing pleasure as Aligon excused himself, leaving the two alone. When the two talked, they could look at nothing and no one else.

“How do you rate their chances?” said Cathia.

“I think they could be very happy,” replied Anio, “so long as one of them finds it in themself to speak up before it is too late.”

---

The walk to the ferry station

It had barely been an hour since the proper declarations had been made, and the attachment officiated, in the garden. Ruthenia moved about as if buoyed upon a cloud, and only a steady flow of conversation from her new partner—the intermittent “that looks interesting” and “the drinks are gone?” and “this crowd unsettles me”—kept her on the ground.

He seemed more liberal with conversation—markedly with her, but also slightly noticeably with others—ever since they had returned from the garden. Once or twice they took seats in a couch, and there would be furtive looks in their direction, although beyond feeling more relaxed side by side they barely gave any sign that anything had changed.

Naturally, they opted to depart from Hollia’s cottage together, and Ruthenia quickly learned as they exited the doorway—after their friend’s well-wishes—that a carriage awaited Aleigh at the ferry station.

They took the quiet walk in the darkness with slow, measured steps, admiring the glinting stars and the singing of the cicadas. Then Ruthenia stopped.

“What is it?” asked her companion.

She let the silence rest for a while. “I’m just stalling,” she answered with a smile. “I don’t want the walk to end.”

He laughed again. She could really get used to the sound. “Ruthenia, I would gladly wait as long as you liked,” he replied.

In the dark she reached out, and found his hand, wriggling her own fingers between his. “Well, you have a carriage to board,” she said.  “It has to be my fault you’re late, or they’ll get upset with you.”

Aleigh sighed. “Well, you are not wrong,” he said. “But I think some extra minutes with you are well worth enduring my brother’s annoyance for.” She felt him lift his left hand. “I don’t think I’ve ever told you about the one type of Weaving I’m best at.”

The questioning “oh?” was barely out of her when a brilliant golden light flashed to life in his palm, illuminating both their faces. She stared up at him, the light glittering in his eyes, and then at the coil of Thread in his left hand. “Ooh...I didn’t know you knew how to do that. It’s amazing.”

She reached out to touch it, but Aleigh’s hand darted away. “Oh, no, if you disrupt the Thread conformation it may stop glowing,” he warned.

Ruthenia laughed. “I’m so bad at Weaving the Threads probably wouldn’t even react,” she said. Then she looked at him again when he did not respond, and found him gazing distantly at her, his smile absent in the light of his Thread construct. “Aleigh! Is my existence so dumbfounding?”

Aleigh continued to watch her for a while. “Dumbfoundingly captivating.” Her face went aflame. And then, as if it weren’t enough, he added, with darting eyes, “May I…”

She recognised the look in his eyes and blushed hotter. “Please do.”

She lifted her head in anticipation. He reached out to cup her face in his hands, extinguishing the light at the same moment. There was nothing in the darkness but the feeling of their mouths searching each other’s and the heat it ignited in their bodies.

Eventually, they did proceed with the trip, five minutes later, drunk on each other’s presences. “I'm sorry,” said Aleigh as they walked down the gravel road, “but I must ask that we keep this as tight a secret as possible—at least until I am ready, and until you are.”

She understood. There’d be prying eyes everywhere. She nodded.

They noticed the carriage by the ferry platform before they began the climb to the top, and while they promised not to be seen engaging in any form of intimacy, she gave him a good, tight hug at the foot of the staircase, mumbling her thanks into his shoulder. She let him reach the platform first, and waved him an innocent goodbye while the carriage driver opened the door for him. He seemed to think little of her presence, but she did not go unnoticed either. 

When Aleigh had departed, Ruthenia sat down and basked in the afterglow.

---

A work day

“Ruthenia?”

Ruthenia looked up with a tiny start at the sound of her name, immaculately pronounced, intoned inquisitively.

She was still not entirely accustomed to hearing Aleigh’s voice inside her shed, and found she had to remind herself repeatedly that, yes, he could be here, and was here.

“Yeah?” She smiled, turning to find him beside her desk, one hand on the windowsill, face framed in sunlight.

He turned. “Are you putting it back together now?”

“Ihir, I could barely tell you’re nearly an adult with how impatient you are!” she replied with a laugh. “You see all these cogs here? Those have to go back inside the clock before I screw the panelling back on.”

“Could I help you?”

Ruthenia turned. “Well, you could hand me tools and parts,” she answered with a grin. “Although I don’t think Your Highness would find such a task suited to your station.”

He had already settled at the far end of her work bench by then, and was waiting expectantly for instructions. With another laugh, this time from being reminded just how dear he could be, she turned and asked for the smallest screwdriver.

Aleigh visited whenever he had an entire morning to squander--which was typically thrice a month, and without pattern. A clock was on the bench today, and although she was trying to make it sound like she had much more to do, she knew she would be done in less than fifteen minutes.

“I will never tire of how fascinating your work is,” he said from the edge of the bench.

“I’ll never tire of you telling me that,” she replied.

In time, Ruthenia rotated the clock face back into position and slotted the hands back on. Then she gave the pendulum a swing, and folded her arms with a satisfied smile as the hands began to tick.

She tugged off the gloves and flung them in her toolbox, then unrolled her sleeves, turning midway to find Aleigh watching her with an eager smile that quickly vanished as soon as her gaze met his.

“No need to pretend you don’t like seeing me,” she said, dropping into the seat beside him, and only barely remembering that she was still covered in sweat and wood shavings.

“Well, I do,” he said, and in answer, Ruthenia drew up to him till there was no space between them, leaning her head against his shoulder as he nestled his own against hers.

“I want this to be how it is forever,” she said, capturing him in a tight embrace. “I can’t believe this is what I missed as a child. You know...meaning something to someone. Being important to someone.”

“I know,” Aleigh replied in a sigh, running his fingers down her nape, which made her draw a sharp breath of enjoyment. “I like how it feels. To be loved. I never thought I could enjoy anything this much.”

“Isn’t it sad? That neither of us had anything like this before we found each other.” She buried her face against his chest and felt it rise and fall. “Damn it, I blame you in full for turning me so mushy in the head, but I love you more than I ever thought possible.”

She lifted her head and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, and felt his fingers tense upon her shoulders in response; his paleness made his blushing obvious. He bowed and answered by pecking her lips, and then she at his, with a laugh of enjoyment as the playful back-and-forth became a deep and furious kiss that surprised them both, Ruthenia rising on one knee on the bench so she held the superior position.

She leaned away and he clung to both her arms, smiling brightly. She grinned back and leaned towards him until their foreheads bumped and they were staring into each other’s eyes. “Let’s go before Tanio finds us,” she said.

---

An Appointment

Aleigh halted as he came face-to-face with Aligon at the foot of the stairs. His brother laid a hand on his shoulder the very instant he halted, preventing any attempt at a quick exit.

“It’s good to see you, Aleigh,” he began, immediately ensnaring him in a conversation, forcing his attention to return. “I would like to discuss with you the matter of official reconciliation now.”

He resisted the urge to frown. “I have a minute. What about reconciliation do you wish to discuss with me?”

“By now you must know that you have been wildly successful in garnering a reaction—to the Luzerno family’s rule, specifically. I must now attempt to reconcile my path with the one you have suddenly decided to forge, because blood will not let us separate our goals and desires. Not unless you intend to overrule my very eloquent defences of your actions and admit to committing high treason…”

“I do not appreciate the picture you paint of me,” he replied. “But I shall comply because I, too, desire the longevity of your rule. I would prefer that it be attained without moral compromise, though.”

“Moral compromise cannot be avoided,” answered his brother, and Aleigh did not further that debate: that, he would reserve for the council room. “Nevertheless, I do have a task for you, related to your recent...misconduct. It may promise a solution that involves neither of us looking like an idiot. I would like to appoint you an ambassador to the clergy and charge you with the delivery of a message.”

“What shall I communicate to the clergy?”

“A specific member of the clergy, actually. Please inform the new Blessed Lady that the Arcane Royal Family is pleased with her appointment, and would like to offer her our love and friendship. Have her announce it publicly, if you’re able.”

Aleigh let himself frown this time. Public relations were all about aligning oneself with whomever had the favour of the most people—even if it meant lying about friendships—and he supposed the dishonesty would not be nearly as flagrant in this case since she was his friend, technically speaking…

“I shall do so at the next appropriate opportunity,” he replied.

“I am sure those will come in plenty,” said Aligon, with a grin that Aleigh would almost believe was sincere. “She is very partial towards you.”

“I’m sorry, you might be mistaken. I do not know if she even is capable of partiality.”

His brother quirked an eyebrow. “On the day of her trial, she expressed unto me an unequivocal interest in your well-being,” he replied.

“She did?”

“If you find it any comfort to know, I think that she is, indeed, capable of partiality, although I wasn’t sure of it until she spoke of you.” He smiled. “Please, court her—I mean her goodwill, of course—for our sake.”

---

After Class

Hollia was polite enough to keep the news under wraps thereafter, but in the meantime the two could not decide when to own up to it to the public, so the day of the reveal was postponed to later and later weeks until it seemed they were intent on letting them figure it out themselves.

In time, their classmate Vesta began to notice that they were always among the last to depart from the classroom. Now to Vesta--being the terribly percipient person she was--there was, and had always been, only one possible explanation, but now that she was this close to confirming her suspicions, she decided she ought to make the efforts to do so.

Every day for almost two weeks, she hung back after the last class to increasingly later times, and found the two were always there longer than most anyone else, pretending not to notice each other. Two weeks into her routine, the moment finally came when she found herself alone with the both of them. She slipped onto her knees behind the desk and watched over its edge.

Ruthenia had been asleep at her desk, but when the guard came by to unmake the Thread lights for the evening, she woke and sprang out of her seat, glancing about till she noticed Aleigh.

With a smile she waved at their blond classmate from across the classroom. He turned to look in Vesta’s general direction, and she almost squeaked, but she simply dipped under the table.

While Ruthenia slung her bag on her shoulder and began stuffing her books  inside, Aleigh crossed the classroom. He laid a hand upon Ruthenia’s desk, bowing towards her with a smile unlike any he’d ever smiled before.

Ruthenia exclaimed when she looked up to find him a few inches away, dropping the book she held. She could do nothing but beam stupidly at him for a while, until he whispered something, and they sank together for a long kiss.

“Oooooooh, I knew it,” Vesta couldn’t help cooing from the back of the classroom.

They leapt apart and turned. “Vesta!” answered Ruthenia, almost angrily, as they caught their breaths, but before she could continue, Aleigh tugged on her hands and she melted and obliged, meeting him for another kiss.

Ruthenia pulled out of it laughing in a way Vesta had never heard before. “Why are you so good at this?”

“Why do you enjoy it so much?” he answered, grinning like someone else entirely. Ruthenia thrust him against the wall and grabbed his collar to yank him towards her, so their next kiss was preluded by a gasp.

By now Vesta had propped her chin up on her desktop and was covering her eyes as often as she was parting her fingers to watch. She watched as Aleigh began kissing Ruthenia’s neck, and then lower, where her collar parted, top button loose. She giggled protests of “stop that!” and “that tickles!” but altogether seemed not to mean it. They stumbled back towards the desk and only stopped when Ruthenia almost knocked it over.

Vesta watched them stare at each other, laughing, dishevelled and winded. It wasn’t a surprising look on Ruthenia, but the Arcane Prince did not look at all like himself with half his hair hanging loose from his ribbon and both cuffs unfolded.

She watched them pull apart and finally turn to the third person in the room as if finally remembering she was there, both of them flushed and laughing as if heavily drunk.

“Sorry you had to see that,” said Ruthenia breathlessly.

“What will Astra do when they find out?”

“Nothing pleasant for either of us,” answered Aleigh with a sigh. “Vesta, please, do not speak of this to anyone.”

Vesta nodded mutely, wondering if she had half the self control that would take.

---

Window Visit

When Aleigh heard a knock on his window, he started right out of his chair, pen clattering across the desk. He flung the curtain aside—to find Ruthenia grinning back at him.

“Ruth—” he began to exclaim, then let his voice drop lest it bring Levatio or one of the maids running. “Ruthenia?”

He bowed close to the glass, to where the girl sat on the windowsill, grinning. Her hair was wind-ruffled, and it blazed flame-red in the sunlight shining upon the palace. Her easy demeanour—one leg crossed over the other, arms behind her head—made him smile despite himself, heart racing.

Unlatching the window, he pushed it open and leant through it. “What, may I ask, are you doing on my windowsill?” he said, a stray breeze reminding him suddenly that his hair was undone.

“Why not?” she answered, launching herself right through the gap into his room before he could realise she was about to, and stretching.

Half a year ago, he would have been furious at such a flagrant disregard for palace rules, and shooed her back out the window with great prejudice, but now her grin compelled him to decide that letting her inside would not harm anyone. Surely it wouldn’t matter if she stayed for just a minute? Just five? He did so love seeing her.

Aleigh heard a drawn-out gasp behind him, and turned around, only to find Ruthenia staring up at the mural on the ceiling beyond his lights, head thrown back so far he thought she might fall over backwards.

“This is—excessive,” she exclaimed. “It’s three stories tall! My entire shed could fit in here!” She pointed at the figures on the mural above. “What are those? Birds?”

“Birds,” he replied in affirmation.

Clearly, she did not need a tour. He watched her pace about the room without invitation, perfectly immobilised by the very sight of her.

She first studied the dozen bookshelves in the corner, picking random volumes to browse before grimacing or rolling her eyes. “There’s so many historical romances!” she said, forcing The Oath back into its place. She picked out another one, then grinned. “I’ve seen you reading this one.”

She paused at the double-doors, flanked by pillars, and stared up at the designs on the lintel, ran a finger along the golden patterns adorning the walls as she proceeded along the perimeter of the room. She ran a foot across the patterns on the carpet. She made funny faces in the bedside mirror. Then she leapt into his bed, which was large enough for an entire family, and rolled around in it, throwing his quilt and pillows into disarray.

Ruthenia rolled off the other side laughing, springing up on her feet with a facetious grin in his direction. His face flushed. Ihir help him, it felt like a crime, and such a delectable one—sharing the space of his room with someone—with Ruthenia. He had never let anyone in before, and yet here she was, leaving fingerprints on the covers of books only he had ever touched, as if she owned the space and he were the guest. And it felt wonderful.

“Have you had this all your life?” she exclaimed as she stood.

“For most of it,” he replied, quelling the sudden hammering of his heart. “May I know to what I owe this unexpected visit?”

“Can’t I visit just because I want to?”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Through my window?” he asked. But he could barely resist the smile that came shortly after.

“Well, I’m not allowed through the front entrance, am I?”

“How did you manage to bypass security?”

Ruthenia grinned. “Lady Cathia let me in.”

“Ah. I would never have suspected anyone else. Not that I mind your presence terribly; I simply do not know how I would explain it to my brother, should you be found out.”

“Who cares about your brother?” Ruthenia exclaimed, springing towards him with a grin, and catching him about the waist with such momentum that he stumbled, letting his knees buckle when she dragged him down with her.

She was much stronger than he’d ever given her credit for—probably stronger than he, even—but that should have been no surprise, considering her job and her history.

She laughed when he tumbled backwards onto the ground, golden hair falling all over his face, and she dropped to her knees beside him. He lay staring at his own ceiling for a minute, dearly hoping no one else ever saw him in this position. Then his musings were interrupted by the appearance of Ruthenia’s face right above his, her grin so bright that it was all he could do not to pull her down towards himself.

She did that herself. Her lips parted before he felt them against his own, her body bearing down on his with all the heat of a volcano. It was a brief, paradisiac, kiss. She lifted herself away blinking innocently, leaving him rather stunned and also dangerously close to losing a rein on himself.

“Don’t you just adore me?” she said with a smirk.

“I do,” he replied, and was pleased to see a blush blossom across her grinning face. As if in retaliation, she went down on her forearms again and gripped his head, kissing the line of his jaw and then his ear, which tingled at the touch of her lips.

“I love it when you're forward,” she said, her breath making him shiver, because this was the Ruthenia no one else got to see. Her lips moved to his cheek, to the corner of his own mouth, and he turned his head so his lips met hers. She gasped briefly, before melting into yet another indulgent kiss.

Naturally, there was a knock on the door barely five seconds later. “Your Highness?” They sprang apart, Aleigh pulling himself up off the ground and began dusting out his shirt. The ground was the last place any self-respecting royal wanted to be found.

Except, he supposed, glancing over at the girl who now occupied his seat at his desk, by her.

He motioned for Ruthenia to hide. Instead she took a single glance at the open window, and clambered through it. “I’ll see you in school tomorrow,” she said with a wave, and leapt from the sill, just in time for a second, urgent knock to shake him out of his daze.

By then, she had vanished without a trace.

---

Second Window Visit

Read the prequel first

Ruthenia eventually made another visit to Aleigh’s room in the royal palace tower, entering via the window as she had on the first occasion.

What she did not know was that on her first visit, Levatio had, indeed, heard her voice, and had informed Aligon of a possible intruder in the Arcane Prince’s room.

The second visit took place on a Sunday afternoon. Ruthenia, none the wiser, pushed Aleigh’s window open and clambered in without awaiting his permission.

She froze in surprise when she found his room devoid of his presence.

The curtain fluttered in the wind as she walked quietly across the room, taking it in more slowly now that she had the chance. She breathed deeply; the room smelled familiar, a trace of her dear partner in it: lavender (not again!), paper, lots of paper, fabric.

Everything was unnecessarily ornate in the gentle light glowing off the pale carpets, knobs and frames glittering. She was only beginning to recognise the ways in which living half his life here had shaped Aleigh, the ways the crystal and gold of this room and this palace had seeped into his being. He had almost definitely grown up believing everyone’s bedrooms were just as spacious and well-decorated as his own.

Staring across the carpets, Ruthenia tried to imagine him as a child—like the Arcane children she had heard stories about—being groomed before the dressing mirror. She smiled. Had he ever been a child?

She strolled over to the bed beside the bookcases, the velvet cushions and satin quilts, the curtains rolled up to the top of the canopy. Who needed a bed that extravagant?

Curiosity and indulgence won Ruthenia over. She dropped onto the edge of the mattress and took her shoes off, flopping over the silken quilt with her arms and sighing when she discovered it was the most comfortable surface she had ever lain upon.

“Ihir, they spoilt you rotten,” she whispered.

She crawled along the sheets and slipped under the quilt, plucking pillows and cushions from the neat stack at the head of the bed. By the time she had arranged a comfortable nest of cushions for herself, not one thing lay where it previously had.

Ruthenia hugged a cushion close and breathed its scent in, coughing at the lungful of herbs she came away with.

Did he have them washed daily? Well, of course he did, the spoilt little cupcake. Did he like it? She supposed that didn’t quite matter, if he had no say in whether or not it happened.

She pulled the quilt around herself (it smelled a little like him, too), and let her eyes close in the comfort of its warmth, falling asleep.

Or at least, that was what she almost succeeded in doing—but she was prevented by the sound of the door opening, right then.

“There is nothing to worry about,” came Aleigh’s voice in tight syllables. “Have a nice day.”

Heart racing, Ruthenia opened a single eye.

“Why is your window open?” said Aligon then. She stiffened, lifting her head quietly to peer at the door.

“What? Ihir! She did not—”

The door swung wide open. There stood Aleigh, his brother Aligon peering over his shoulder. At once both gazes turned to the bed, and as soon as the younger brother saw Ruthenia, he began to gape, turning red. “Ruthenia!”

“No one, indeed,” muttered Aligon.

Aleigh immediately looked away and drew his arms around himself, seeming to brace himself for a reprimand.

But Aligon only broke into a wry smile. “Blessed Lady, how good to see you!” He dipped his head in greeting, and she quickly returned one. “Why didn’t you tell me you were interested in visiting? If a person of such importance as yourself had desired a written exception, I would have offered one gladly!”

“Oh, well, I didn’t think you would!” she answered, doing her best to sound bright. “Is it customary to let important guests enter your living quarters?”

“With guests of a particular ilk, it is,” he replied with a smile, and she didn’t think he was referring to clergy members. “I shall have the document drawn up, if you so desire.”

She grinned. “I do so desire.”

“Say no more. And with a little convincing, I may even pay off future expenses.” With this line, he cast a pointed glance at Aleigh, who had only just brought his gaze back. He looked away again, dodging his brother’s extended hand.

“So...may I stay?” Ruthenia asked meanwhile.

“Of course! Please enjoy yourself in whatever manner you find most to your liking.” Aligon dipped his head. “Forgive me for intruding; you must have important business to attend to.” With that, Aligon waved and departed, leaving Aleigh to stare across the room at various things as he regained his composure.

He finally glanced out into the corridor, entering and shutting the door behind him. “Ruthenia!”

“I’m sorry,” Ruthenia said, hiding half her face behind one of his cushions. “I didn’t think you’d be out of the room. You’re right, I should probably have stopped visiting like this.”

“No, don’t be sorry,” he answered in a sigh, walking towards the bed. “I was merely—frightened. He might have reacted to your presence in the opposite manner. I...well, I enjoy your visits, but was afraid one incursion too many might have put you on the blacklist.”

“I know, that wasn’t wise of me. At least we know that’s not happening now!”

“I’m surprised the agreement was so amicable—but then again, he has been urging me to have you publicise your support for my family.”

Ruthenia’s eyebrows rose. “I could do that, you know.”

“I wouldn’t have you do it,” Aleigh replied, “not unless you’re certain you like the idea of being publicly affiliated with us, and being held to your affiliations in your future clerical decisions.”

“I don’t think I can avoid being affiliated with you forever,” she laughed.

To that, he smiled drily. “You’re never going to stop terrifying me to death with your surprises, now, are you?”

“I’ll never terrify you more than I did the day I was sentenced to death,” she answered with a grin.

Shaking his head in resignation, Aleigh lowered one knee onto the edge of the bed and pointed at the cushion Ruthenia was hugging. She threw it at him. “Thank you, this is my favourite cushion now,” he said, pressing his face into it and taking in a breath. Tucking it under one arm, he left to examine his bookcases for a minute, before choosing a book and placing it on the sheets. “It’s about time I read this one.”

He pulled his shoes off and climbed onto the bed too, no longer seeming to mind that Ruthenia had just made her intrusion on the royal tower known to King Aligon. Ruthenia stared for a minute. “Should I leave?” she asked.

He glanced at her. “Not if you don’t want to,” he said with an earnest smile. “Aligon let you stay, so I see no reason you’d have to leave, unless you wish to.”

“Oh, yes, I’d better. I can’t stand being in the same room as you!”

He frowned playfully, crawling to where she lay while attempting to keep the book in his hand. She spent another while enjoying the cosiness of the pillows and mattress, which only increased when her companion arrived beside her. “All that aside, I’m glad to see you.”

“You really don’t mind?”

“What reasons have I to? Other than you giving me the scare of my life ten minutes ago, that is.”Both sitting there among the pillows, Aleigh turned to her and nuzzled her cheek. She laughed and leaned towards him, resting her chin on his shoulder. “Please stay,” he said. “Since you’re already here. I want you here. I could always use some company.”

She rubbed her cheek against his shoulder. “Gladly,” Ruthenia replied. Together they curled up under the quilt, reclining on cushions, heads leaning together. Between them she felt him weave his fingers with hers.“I’m in bed with you,” she chortled, gathering more of the quilt towards herself.

“So you are,” he replied. “And you’re quite enjoying it, I see.”

“I know ways this could become more enjoyable.” Ruthenia offered her best attempt at a suggestive look.

Aleigh laughed. “Add those to our repository of ideas,” he replied. “We have yet to do half the things in it.”

“Oh, you and your idea collection,” Ruthenia muttered, lifting his hand to touch it to her lips. “What do you want to do next?”

He lifted looked up briefly, seeming to consider his answer, before shaking his head. “We shall decide the next time I am able to confirm a vacancy.”

She pressed his knuckles against her cheek. “I wish you didn't have so much to do.”

“Nothing has made me dislike my routines more than knowing they prevent me from seeing you.” To this day, Aleigh still managed to say things that made her shiver with delight.

“Someday, that will no longer be a problem.”

Laughing softly herself, she slid back down under the quilt, letting her head sink into a  cushion. She saw Aleigh open the book and begin reading. Closing her eyes, she once again began to fall asleep in the soporific warmth.

Ruthenia awakened a long while later to discover that the windows were dim with clouds, rain pattering outside—and that Aleigh was still reading. The air was noticeably colder, and the quilt had been pulled up to her shoulders.

She lay there, listening to the interlock of their breathing for a while, before propping herself up on an elbow. This drew her companion’s gaze immediately.

“Hello,” she said.

“Had a good rest?” he asked. She saw the care in his eyes, and nodded.

“Never had a better one. How’s your reading going?”

“I’m about a third of the way through this novel.”

“Is it good?”

“It’s decent.” He riffled through the pages. “The language is...simplistic, but the plot is engaging enough.”

“Simplistic language? Maybe I’ll enjoy this one,” Ruthenia laughed, crawling from under the quilt to his side.

By now, Aleigh had abandoned the book on the shimmering quilt and had turned all attention to her. Amid the soft patter of the downpour, he tilted his head and studied her face, smiling when she made a noise of questioning. She, too, took him in: the glimmer of his eyes, the cascade of golden ringlets about his face.

She remembered how he had once disgusted her, the way the hatred had needled at her every time she had seen his face.

Ruthenia would have liked to claim she needed no family—as if it proved her strength, as if refusing to settle down were a personal act of rebellion. But she had to admit, she liked having someone to trust without reservation. She liked him, entirely too much.

“What are you thinking about?” Aleigh asked.

“What do you think I’m thinking about?” she answered, wriggling towards him until there was no space between them. “So, when should I leave?”

“Not soon, I hope.” She knew he would reach for her; he did, both arms about her waist, pulling her against himself with a laugh and tumbling backwards. They were face-to-face again, bodies pressed together.

If they’d been heard from outside, she barely cared; she loved seeing him so happy and she was glad she could be a source of that happiness. She twisted and kicked, laughing as his arms gathered her even closer and he began kissing her collarbones and neck.

When he pulled back to breathe and to laugh, she brushed hair from his eyes so their gazes could lock. She lunged forward; their lips met again and again, the kisses deepening each time. They rolled to the edge of the bed, mouths meeting every now and then between exclamations and laughter.

Ruthenia paused, rising to kneel over him. He stared up at her, hair and clothes dishevelled from the effort. She was momentarily led to the realisation that this was the least she’d ever seen him wearing.

“Ihir, you tempt me,” she said, staring at the exposed skin—perhaps with too much eagerness, because he seemed to know her thoughts instantly.

“Not right now,” he replied with a smile, tapping her nose with a finger. She blinked and laughed, fingers trailing to his arms, and he reached out to grip her wrists in response. “However, I can, and I shall, offer you tea and desserts, if you would like some.”

---

Speculation

“Why don't you ask your partner over for lunch?” said Tanio over breakfast one day.

Ruthenia froze immediately, too shocked to deny the suggestion. Partner? How had he known?

He picked up on her astonishment easily. “Did you think I would miss all those gift boxes in your waste bin?” he asked. “Or the new tools. And the books, oh, I could never miss the books—who knew you even cared for those?”

She managed a smile, although it was hard not to look embarrassed. “He has a bad habit of buying anything I stare at for more than five seconds,” she said in a mock-groan.

Tanio sighed. “Remember poor Tanio when you marry out,” he said.

“Let’s not talk about marriage just yet,” she gasped. “What about the machine business? All the research and testing? You think I’m going to walk out on that?”

“We won’t be doing this forever. We’ll be hiring, and someone will inherit the mantle someday. We let go whenever we like; that’s a luxury we have now that we’re funded by the public.” He grinned, tossing a bun into her plate; she intercepted it before it could roll onto the tabletop. “And then you’ll get to marry whichever poor thing would deign to accept you.”

“I’ll have you know he is very happy to be with me!” she blurted. Then she blushed when she realised how much fervour she’d spoken with, tearing a huge bite out of the bun so she did not have to continue speaking.

“Is it who I think it is?” he asked in a drawl.

She stared at the kitchen door. “Probably. Maybe.”

“Ah, we’re making this a game, are we?” Tanio sang. “Well...so, this, your partner—did you once claim to hate him with a passion?”

She nodded.

“Is he blond and highborn?”

“I—wh—well, yes—”

“Have you...kissed?”

She felt her face heat up as she nodded.

“Ooh, how positively scandalous!” He grinned. “May I invite him over for lunch?”

“No! Not if you’re making your bleeding mutton patties again! He has been eating palace food for six years, do you think your mutton patties could hold a candle to that?”

“Palace food, eh? Is your partner royalty?” He pretended to look flabbergasted when she nodded again (this time with a roll of her eyes). “How incredibly lucky, Ruth. But I must share my homemade cuisine with him, now!”

“Oh, Ihir,” she sighed, sagging forward. “Ihir didn’t save me so I could come back to this.”

“Does he treat you well?”

Ruthenia looked up, surprised to find Tanio looking earnestly at her.

“He always has,” she answered.

“Good. But do you treat him well?”

She chortled. “I think so.”

Tanio nodded pensively. “Careful. I think Aleigh is the sort to take things to heart.”

Ruthenia laughed again. “He does, the silly boy,” she said.

“Ah, I knew it was him.”

She cast her eyes down at her plate so she didn’t have to see his triumphant smirk. “You knew even before I did.”

With those words, Ruthenia braced herself for a bout of teasing, but he only gave a grunt of satisfaction. “Yes, and I’d still love to invite him over. He’ll learn to enjoy the mutton patties.”

---

Teatime

Aleigh wasn’t entirely sure how to respond when Ruthenia suddenly chose to lean her head against his shoulder.

He had been writing, and she, contending with her boss’ horrendous lunch. Then she had crossed her legs on the seat, as she liked to, and sagged against him, head on his shoulder, their arms pressed together, and then she’d continued eating as if she’d done nothing out of the ordinary.

At once he had gone motionless--was this how the common people expressed friendly sentiments? Was this how Ruthenia expressed friendly sentiments? Whatever the case, Aleigh was not at all prepared to respond--because this much touch, this much intimacy was reserved for attached couples. And an attached couple they were not.

And it was doing terrible things to him. Such as inspiring in him a burning desire to reciprocate the gesture. Or to imagine they were an attached couple.

He hasn't expected to like the idea this much.

Ihir, he wanted to reach out and hold her close and kiss the top of her head and--

Shaking his head to clear this horrifying--and horrifyingly delightful--string of thoughts, Aleigh lifted his pen again to continue writing--but never got further than the first word.

He cleared his throat. “Ruthenia,” he said.

“Yes?” She straightened, lifting her head from his shoulder, and his heart sank with disappointment as her warmth disappeared.

He tried not to lean towards her. “I appreciate your company,” he said.

She laughed. A different sort of laugh. “Hey, I like yours too,” she replied, clapping him on the shoulder, more gently than usual. “That's why I'm here.”

He blinked and revelled in the warmth of her touch, although it wasn’t long before her hand lifted and he found himself wanting to feel it again.

---

25 August 491

My dearest friend Ruthenia,

I have long contemplated divulging my deeply-felt

I would like to propose a furtherance of the terms of our friendship, perhaps transcending contractual obligation

I have longed after your intimate affections ever since we spoke on the palace steps

The day we conversed on the palace steps about our lives, I felt a sudden desire for you to be a part of mine. This I feel with utter sincerity. If it should at all bother you that I am of noble birth, I would be pleased to inform you that I fully intend to put my assets to better use by donating them to

the sound of your voice

The very sound of your voice

I should be honoured if you should deem me worthy of your affections, and shall pursue the matter no further should you decide otherwise

Although few may agree with me, I do find you a very lovely person

I thoroughly enjoy you

Your company never fails to elevate my mood, for I never spend a minute in your presence without finding my life, all of a sudden, a more enjoyable affair than ever before

You confuse and amaze me

I love you dearly.

Your incendiary ardent fiery

Words cannot express

I am aware that I have been unkind towards you in the past, and for those several unwarranted offences I would like to sincerely apologise. My feelings towards you have changed drastically ever since, and I am afraid to say that they are quite the opposite from what they were before: I adore you, almost hopelessly, moreso because I cannot imagine you would ever reciprocate.

Please know that I think about you daily, and that my restlessness shall not be assuaged until you know of my feelings

You are the best thing to have happened in my life thus far.

---

The Aviary

“We’ll be back soon” is a phrase Hollia hears more often than “hello”.

The aviary does not fund itself. No, mother and father, who gave the aviary to their daughter as soon as she turned sixteen so that they could free their hands up for real work, paying work, left for Sonora to keep the family alive.

It has been a long time since captive birds were seen as holy symbols, and there is a growing notion among Astrans that the capture and caging of birds is, in fact, not condoned by Ihir. While the Candelabra aviary no longer turns more than a sliver of profit, the fortune of Hollia’s forebears, made off of the delirious fanaticism of the people and their decidedly secular hunger for novelty combined, will be enough to keep it running for decades yet.

There is no perceptible reason it should be left standing, though. It is not necessity, but obligation, that keeps Hollia bound to her glorified birdcage: it is knowing she holds their very lives in the palm of her hands.

Hollia still stares out over the fields from the vantage of her porch sometimes. They are vast and windy, and she can hear the cicadas, especially when it’s hot and the grass isn’t rustling. Candelabra Town drifts tiny in the distance, untouched by the wind. There’s the silhouette of the great beech tree down the road, a hundred tiers of branches weighed down by the nests of wild birds.

She sees them land sometimes, and cannot help but to feel a little rueful. Is her own gnarly little tree comparable to that one? Do captive birds see their free brethren and long for that which they can never have?

Mother and father return once a week to check on daughter and grandmother and the aviary whose abandonment they attempted to wash their hands of by giving it to their daughter so she could perform the honours.

“We’ll be back soon,” is how they greet her before they leave, as if disappointed that the aviary’s still there, that she continues to cling to the prison they are trying to demolish.

But she does not see a prison. She sees a beating heart, a home, a haven, and she has too much love to give, love that no one else will take.

Hollia Canavere watches them leave, and one would be wrong to think she doesn’t occasionally contemplate leaving her birds to the mercy of the wild so that she can finally live. But those dreams are easily diluted, by guilt and love and love and guilt, and she continues to fill their dishes, and to arrange the leaves on the gnarly old tree, and there’s nothing there for her.

---

Being a royal

It was at the fairly young age of thirteen that Aleigh Luzerno became the Arcane Prince of Astra. It was learn to discover that, all at once, his face was known throughout the nation, as was his brother’s–but more disorienting to find himself burdened with more liabilities than a thirteen-year-old should ever have to shoulder.

The nature of Aleigh’s relationship with renown was entirely different from Aligon’s. Where the older brother was celebrated as the answer to Arcem’s cruelty, the younger was but image and symbol–the innocence to his brother’s magnanimity, an accessory to his royalhood.

They painted him as the ideal Astran son: well-behaved, well-bred, serene ahead of his years. He was the child every parent wished to have, rendered to shame the lowborn who refused to exert such control over their own.

For the most part, this was the sort of person Aleigh was in reality–except for the one detail no one ever mentioned: he loved to tell stories. He invented and elaborated and embellished, tales of fancy and fear, longer and more beautiful than anyone in his most esteemed household could bear to contemplate. Everyone took great care to hide and discourage this habit, and in time he, too, learned to suppress it.

Of course, Aleigh was not to be a child for very much longer, or to continue playing this part without question. He turned fourteen, then fifteen, and obedience became reticence. Suddenly aware of his brother’s subtle machinations, he began declining to make public appearances with increasing frequency.

His absence was noticed, and there were many shared fears among the more fanatical of the Luzerno family’s supporters that their sweet little Arcane Prince would lose his loveliness, both of character and of face, with maturity.

On the latter point, this was not to be the case. The next time Aleigh made a major public appearance–at his brother’s thirtieth birthday party, when he was himself sixteen–he was dressed for his stature, and caused a stir in doing so. Publications spilled over with adulation for his poise and grace: “swanlike” was a choice word, decidedly inaccurate considering the real nature of swans, but favourable because of the way it linked him to the patron god of Astra.

Youth all over Astra began to take interest in the Luzerno family for him alone. Instantly recognising the opportunity, Aligon immediately took measures to ensure that particular attention was paid to his brother’s attiring for any and all appearances.

In time, Aleigh found that imagery and pretence came to him as naturally as breathing. He understood symbols intimately, and recognised the subtlest connotations of his every action. He never did stop loving stories, although he took to enjoying them quietly, in the safety of his room or the palace library.

Anxiety and distrust came with his brother’s puppetry, and with learning that his public falseness attracted falseness in return, not one person ever speaking honestly to him unless they were an enraged New Town resident, spitting on his bodyguards.

Where Aligon conducted national politics alongside Hazen, Aleigh was merely an ambassador–or a casualty, one might say, of the Astran political game.

---

Touch

---

Drowning

---

A Neighbourly Visit

---

On Vanity

---

A withering garden

Almost as soon as his sixteenth birthday had passed, Aleigh was shown Orpa Mirene at the midsummer palace function, the woman whom Aligon had already decided--in the way kings decided, without saying anything at all--he would become attached to. Their guardians placed them in the lee of a windowed alcove, away from the eyes of the guests, and they had their first conversation in the shadows of vines with drinks in both their hands.

Orpa was quite the eligible woman, a year older than he and the daughter of the noble Mirene family: a queen-in-grooming. There would be nothing surprising about such an attachment: it was the old way, the way of the first monarchs, although no one dared call King Aligon old-fashioned for his decision.

None of these political motives were directly disclosed to Aleigh; he elucidated them gradually himself. His brother said he would find his own way to love her, as all Arcanes did. He left the bracelet on his younger brother’s table, and it was then that Aleigh, only just emerging into adulthood, began to comprehend the ways he was being used by his family.

In November in the year of 489, when summer had passed its peak, he called Orpa to the pagoda in the waning rose light. It was at this, their fifth meeting in person, that he presented Aligon’s golden bracelet to her, waiting for her to grow bright-eyed with amazement before putting forth his offer of an attachment.

“I could think of no other to ask,” he said, as he’d practiced, as years of royal grooming had taught him to.

Orpa leapt at his offer, as she, too, must have been taught to. She appeared all but delighted to be with him, and he hoped that her enthusiasm would affect him to the same feelings.

They spent three days a week together on the grounds and as one who felt responsible for the joy of others, Aleigh saw to it that Orpa enjoyed every minute of the time they shared. She liked to appraise old buildings and to examine their histories, a subject that he found interested him with escalating intensity as his familiarity with them grew. He memorised her every comment about the cornices and the avia, letting her reveal the complexities of the palace’s balustrades.

Between brief outings to the city where they discussed the grandeur of administrative towers, the two met in private parlours where they read and talked at length together. Her wit and memory matched his own, and together they tended their flowerbed of ideas, every thought unclasping like a bud in bloom.

Aleigh knew they matched, as locks matched keys, as skies matched seas, and indeed, three months into their attachment, he felt he had made an excellent and intimate friend.

It was not an uncomfortable arrangement by any means. But not uncomfortable was not enough to convince him of anything.

Orpa was an avid musician, and music was sufficiently intimate of an interest of Aleigh’s that he took it upon himself to watch her chordophony performances, and to shower her with adulation afterwards. He learned she was a performer with the flair of the greats, her bow rousing her audience to cheers before the music had ended. Accompanied by Belan orchestra, she wove tales on the strings, giving sound to stories.

In private, Orpa began to demand more and more of Aleigh. Monetary providence, continuous attention. He bended to her will as if his obligation to do so were written in law.

He would not speak of his discomfort; it was not worth being spoken of. He watched her learn the work of the masters, and uncage them as new creatures onstage. Her talent, and his awe, were his excuses unto himself. He taught himself to believe that this was love.

The second last time Aleigh watched Orpa, he sat in the second row. Orpa Mirene, now known among musical circles as the chordophonist who handled emotion with the dexterity of a puppeteer, took on Heleus’ energetic half-hour epic with a passion none had never seen of her before.

That evening he decided to pay her a personal visit in the backstage room, to congratulate her. Among the low glittering lights, borne upon the thrill of her beautiful playing, he found the forwardness to kiss her.

She returned it, eagerly at first, then wanly, upon which he knew that not all was well. She stepped away. He lifted his gaze to hers, and was alarmed to find tears welling in her eyes.

“I cannot bear this charade any long,” she gasped.

“Charade?” Aleigh had already guessed.

“It was never for you. I never wanted you; I wanted what came with you.” She gripped her chordophone tighter, and glared at the ground. “And now I no longer want it! I have found something I care for more than for you, and the things you own.”

He stared at her for a while, every inch of his body numb. “I, too, would prefer it over myself,” he finally said.

He only moved again when she had left the room.

Finally certain that this would convince Aligon to free him to choose the fate of his attachment, Aleigh disclosed the details of the conversation to his brother.

Even that was a misjudgment. “You would defy the family’s will?” he said. “You shall not visit her until you pledge to abandon this foolish idea.” The next time he attempted to board the carriage, he found himself denied.

Eventually, Aleigh decided to forgo the carriage entirely. He braved heavy rain to cross the complex on foot, appearing at the Mirene family side-house himself.

The butler who answered his call brought the young woman minutes later. She went still at the door, eyes meeting his.

Reaching out, he clasped her hand in his and waited for a reaction. When she gave none, he lifted it between them, as he had several times, and turned it over so her palm faced upward. He revealed the object concealed in his left hand, and lowered the medallion into her hand, now cupped with anticipation, and trembling.

“Thank you for the past year,” he said simply, and then he reentered the downpour, shivering.

Much of that night was spent in a perpetual cycle of attempting to read, abandoning the effort, and feeling a fresh surge of tears well up at the provocation of another wrenching pang.

That was not to be the last of his misery, for as soon as Aligon learned of his betrayal--two days later, from Kala Mirene--he made clear that he was no better than scum on his shoe by pretending not to see nor hear him.

Aleigh could only think, as he lay in bed, heartache prying his eyelids apart, that he deserved it.

---

Flavours

The next time Ruthenia and Aleigh visited the milkshake stand together, they rode the same mount, namely Benedice. They leapt off the horse with an exchange of quips, and ordered from a rather stunned Imessa, who set about mixing their orders--a honey milkshake and a tropical fruit milkshake--for her customers.

“I thought you said you weren't one for experimentation?” exclaimed Ruthenia, nudging him in the ribs, to which he smiled.

“Not since I lost my title,” he answered. “You have singlehandedly convinced me to find the prospect of danger appealing.”

She laughed. “I'm going to ruin you,” she replied as her laughter subsided, rubbing his shoulder.

“Please feel free to,” answered Aleigh.

“Your drinks,” said Imessa, who placed the glasses on the counter with bright clinks. They descended upon the drinks eagerly, glancing at each other every now and then.

”Is the flavour unusual enough?” Ruthenia smirked from over the rim of her glass.

“You ought to taste it and decide for yourself.”

Aleigh seemed to startled--as was Imessa--when Ruthenia pulled him towards herself, the two kissing deeply until she broke into a grin and had to pull away, laughing.

“Decent,” she said. “I liked mine more, though.”

“I...I need a second taste,” answered her partner, and they both moved to kiss again, even more readily.

Imessa laughed quietly. A most inefficient method of trading drink samples, if she had ever seen one. “I’m glad to see you’re enjoying yourselves,” she said. To say she was entertained would be a dire understatement.

---

Touches, perhaps accidental

It began with little touches at first—accidental brushes of hands and bumping of shoulders, moments of leaning in too far.

And then those brushes became intentional, slipped in amid too-eager conversations in the setting sun. Sometimes Aleigh took Ruthenia's hand to squeeze it when he seemed to think he could get away with it, and she let him, though she always convinced herself it didn't mean what one conventionally thought such a gesture to mean: that it must be some obscure Arcane expression of trust. The other meaning simply wasn't possible.

And then it went beyond brief touches, too, and they began to hold hands in earnest, when no one was looking, and Ruthenia had to wonder if the gestures might actually mean something other than trust and care. And that, maybe, she had overlooked the slim chance that there was some other kind of intimacy wrapped up in it. But he was the Arcane Prince, a whole royal, and there could not possibly be anything about her that distinguished her from the thousands who must have fancied him before.

It took her weeks after the inconvenient feelings rose to awareness before she finally came to terms with it.

That is where she was until the ordeal, the everything, picked up her life and upended it. And then she held him all the way home, arms looped around his waist, face to his back, now so easy it astounded her they had come to this point.

She only had so many minutes to accept that her infatuation was still alive and kicking. And then, after one longing sunlit gaze too many, it happened: her first kiss. And Aleigh was too eager for anyone sane to believe it had meant nothing. But Ruthenia was not sane, and even after that, she convinced herself to think nothing of it.

It was a pattern with them. Escalating intimacies that both had somehow managed to dismiss. It took spoken words for them both to be sure beyond a doubt: she was in love with him, and he with her. And they had both been, for a while, from the day they had first held hands.

---