"Lady Alya, I heard Magister Tulis praise your talent at runic magic on more than one occasion," commented Lord Merwood before taking a sip of wine.

  My smile was as thin as my nerves. "I must give him credit, he was a wonderful teacher."

  "Well, talent without discipline is useless," added Lady Merwood.

  "The Velmires cultivate excellence," agreed Grandfather, staring at me with impenetrable eyes.

  I suppressed the urge to sigh. Wasn't I a disappointment just two months ago?

  "Allistair's been assisting the Order in rune audits. He's also shown an aptitude for the arts," commented Lady Merwood lightly while watching her son fondly.

  Allistair smiled to his mother, but the slight tremor of a couple of buttons on his dress shirt showed he was not as relaxed as his posture wanted to suggest.

  "You flatter me, mother, I'm merely doing my part as the heir of the House."

  Grandfather nodded. "Your son shows discipline."

  I turned to look at Father. He was quietly observing over the rim of his glass. Our eyes met for a moment.

  Why wasn't he participating in this barely veiled examination? It had been him, after all, that had brought Allistair to me at the Yule ball.

  Before anyone could ask me yet another question or find a reason to praise me for academic achievements or for my "standing", I turned to Aemilia.

  "Lady Aemilia, I heard you play the Harp beautifully."

  The young mage turned to me blinking. Not fond of being the center of attention? Neither was I.

  She dabbed her lips with the linen napkin before answering with a blush, "Thank you, Lady Alya, I have had a great instructor. And since, unlike my brother, my path is not in research or politics, I have plenty of time to practice. Do you play any instrument, Lady Alya?"

  "Only the piano, but I must admit it's been a while since the last time I practiced."

  "Even so, Alya was instructed by Da'alzi himself when she was younger. He praised her natural talent." My father said while looking at Lord Merwood. The other man nodded.

  "He's one of the best in Belaria. Great choice, Lord Velmire. We entrusted Allistair's piano education to Lady Thessara Vale."

  "I wasn't aware Lady Vale offered private tutoring," replied my father.

  Lord Merwood chuckled. "She usually doesn't. But her late husband was a good friend of my father's, so she was willing to make an exception for Allistair. And it was a great choice, as his skills are excellent."

  "It is comforting when two houses find... compatibility," commented Lady Merwood.

  My jaw ticked. I took a sip of water. "Compatibility is best discovered, not arranged."

  The cling of cutlery paused for half a breath.

  "Alya," called Grandfather in a crisp tone. I wondered how much that comment would cost me. "You haven't yet touched your wine."

  My glass was indeed full. A small rebellion on my part.

  I turned to grandfather with an apologetic smile. "Magister Crowold advised against it while I refine my aetheric flow control."

  Grandfather's eyebrows raised a fraction as his eyes turned to Father.

  Father's smile was complacent. "Alya has proven herself academically forward."

  "Aetheric flow control... fascinating," praised Allistair. My eyes remained immobile as I smiled at him.

  By the time the lunch finally ended my stomach was a painful knot.

  I was quietly exhaling when Grandfather turned to me while twirling an amber liquid in a glass.

  "Alya, perhaps you should show Lord Allistair the eastern gardens. They've been recently redesigned."

  I was tempted to find a reasonable excuse to decline.

  "Of course, Grandfather."

  I didn't spare the white roses and deep purple irises a glance as I made my way through the corridors of the eastern gardens with Allistair a step behind me.

  I stopped under the shadow of a cypress path and crossed my arms over my winter coat.

  "Were you aware of our families' intentions?"

  Allistair shifted his weight to his other leg, not meeting my gaze. That was all the answer I needed.

  "I..." He blinked, then lifted his eyes to me. "Have I done something to offend you?"

  I took a moment to reply. Truthfully, he hadn't. I sighed.

  "While it might be true that the union of our houses is our parents' idea, I cannot say I object," he confessed.

  I felt tears burning in the back of my eyes. I observed him.

  With his tan skin, tall frame, long dark hair and deep blue eyes, he was certainly a handsome man. We had studied together on more than one occasion. His contributions had always been sharp—his wit undeniable.

  I could see how, without pressure from our families, perhaps we could have naturally gravitated towards each other.

  But I refused to be used by my family any further.

  "Your sense of duty is.. admirable."

  A soft huff of amusement escaped him. "If you believe it's only duty driving me, Alya, you do yourself a disservice ."

  He took a couple of steps closer, until his navy coat darkened to black under the tree's shadow.

  "You would make an excellent Lady Merwood. Together we could shape Belaria."

  I wasn't sure we wanted to shape it in the same way.

  "You would never have to prove yourself again."

  My eyes snapped to his. A shiver ran down my spine.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  "I'm afraid the cold is starting to get at me, Lord Merwood, and my concentration falters when my aether is strained."

  He inclined his head in a small bow. Not before I could see the thin line of his lips.

  Enora was waiting when we entered the corridor. "Lady Velmire, Lord Merwood, your families are waiting for you by the East Tea Room."

  The one overlooking the eastern gardens. Of course.

  The conversation died when we entered, and I was overly aware of the eyes following me as I crossed the room to take a seat beside my father.

  Grandfather was observing me with a faint tightening at the corner of his mouth—subtle enough to go unnoticed by anyone who did not know him. I knew him.

  I turned to him with a saccharine smile. "Lord Merwood was kind enough to admire the new fountain's structure. His architectural eye is impressive."

  The sound of a spoon against china stopped mid-clink. Aemilia was observing her brother with poorly veiled curiosity.

  Allistair's smile did not falter.

  "The Velmire gardens are a sight to behold."

  A sigh escaped from Lady Merwood, barely visible in the curling steam of her cup.

  "The eastern gardens have been a point of pride for us since the redesign. I am pleased they were appreciated."

  My eyebrows raised slightly on their own accord as I watched Father adjusting his spoon over the porcelain saucer.

  If Grandfather wasn't pleased with him, he didn't show.

  The conversation shifted to the architecture of Belaria, the influence of the Old Houses and other themes I barely heard.

  My eyes kept observing Father for clues.

  Other than his fingers adjusting his sleeves or his rings, I could not decipher him.

  As I lay in bed that night, only one thing was for sure.

  A small, almost imperceptible divide had cracked between Father and Grandfather.

  The next day, unexpectedly, I wasn't summoned by neither of the men in the house.

  I took my time writing the letter for Hana. I had so much to tell her, to ask, but I tried to keep it brief.

  Getting the driver to leave me by a bakery near the entrance of the Aurelian Gardens was not difficult.

  When the carriage lingered by the street, I had to enter the bakery to not raise suspicions.

  My eyes skimmed over the colorful pastries displayed. Among them, some yellow bignè decorated to look like a chick elicited a small smile. I imagined it covered in tiny bubbles.

  One day, I'd get to bring some for Hana.

  When the carriage was nowhere in sight I made my way to the eastern edge of the gardens, careful to stay in the shadows and keep my pace casual.

  If the other guests at the promenade saw me, they'd assume I was on a lonely walk.

  Beneath the glass pergola stood the dark silhouette of a man. I approached the thread slowly, making sure no one was in the vicinity.

  "This area has no walking people, just as you said," noted the man. He was wearing a different coat. Brown, in good condition.

  I nodded. "Here's the letter and your payment."

  He hid both envelopes in a pocket.

  "Very well. When do we meet again?"

  "I'm afraid I won't be able to before new year. On the fifth of next month, meet me by the Revelis Book shop, near the Harmony Institute, after lunchtime."

  The man nodded briefly, taking a moment too long to observe me with his dark eyes before muttering "my lady" and disappearing in the shadowed paths of the eastern gardens.

  I recognised the slender figure of Lady Aerendis among the circle of pastel dressed ladies right away.

  "Lady Aerendis," I greeted as some of the ladies opened a path for me to get to her. "How kind of you to invite me this afternoon."

  We exchanged pleasantries and introductions.

  I was surprised to notice not all the women attending were mages.

  Just as I was in the middle of conversation with one of my old classmates, a familiar shape caught my attention in the back.

  Sirius Lioren.

  Sitting by bench with a young man I didn't recognize.

  "Lady Velmire?" I snapped out of my stupor to see the lady of House Seris looking at me expectantly.

  "You will forgive me, I thought I saw a familiar face."

  Our conversation resumed. To not look above Lady Seris's head as often as I would have wanted took a great deal of effort. We were joined by a short, pretty woman dressed in green.

  "Lady Velmire, this is my friend, Miss Seraphine Alto."

  Miss Alto. Her guarded expression suddenly made sense. Unbound.

  I smiled first. "Miss Alto, a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

  "The pleasure is mine, Lady Velmire," she greeted. Her smile was tight.

  After a few remarks on the flowers and the weather, Miss Alto seemed to relax.

  "Oh, I don't believe men would notice the difference between a rose and a peony, Miss Alto."

  We chuckled. Her eyes stayed on me for a few seconds in a rare public moment of camaraderie between an unbound woman and the daughter of House Velmire.

  If only Grandfather could see me now. My smile widened at the thought.

  Behind me, someone cleared their throat. "Ladies, I trust you're enjoying the evening."

  The effect was immediate.

  Miss Alto straightened. Lady Seris's fan stilled mid-air. The younger women further down the path turned with poorly concealed curiosity.

  I turned last.

  Sirius inclined his head just enough to acknowledge the group as a whole, not singling anyone out.

  "Lady Seris, Miss Alto." His gaze skimmed the others with impeccable politeness. "It's a relief to find such excellent company gathered in one place."

  A faint ripple of laughter answered him. One of the ladies lowered her eyes, smiling coyly. They greeted him back. I was too busy analyzing him.

  He waited a few seconds before settling his attention on me.

  "Lady Velmire."

  My skin broke into goosebumps.

  "If you would forgive the intrusion, might I steal you for a moment?"

  My eyebrows raised a fraction at his boldness. The corner of his lips curled into a barely repressed smile when he noticed.

  Miss Alto and Lady Seris exchanged a look before turning to me. I wanted to sigh at his audacity. I could only hope this exchange wouldn't reach Father's ears.

  "Of course," I allowed with a small, composed smile. I felt heat creep beneath my collar.

  I offered my apologies to the group with a nod, careful to not look rushed, and stepped away before I could reconsider.

  We walked along a narrow path bordered by snowdrops pushing bravely though the frost and early daffodils bowing under the weight of winter.

  He did not speak until we were sufficiently removed from curious ears. Finally, his common sense seemed to reach him.

  "You appear to have acquired new companions," he noted lightly.

  "Some flowers bloom best in unlikely soil," I replied. "It would be a shame to overlook them."

  A corner of his mouth lifted. "Some gardeners would disagree."

  "Some gardeners value symmetry over substance."

  He directed a measured glance at me.

  "And what do you prefer Lady Velmire?"

  I pondered my answer. "The kind of garden that survives winter."

  We walked for a moment in silence.

  "The frost can be... instructive," he said finally. "It reveals which stems bend and which break."

  "And which grow sharper thorns," I added softly, my eyes on a pair of snowdrops standing proudly among the white frost.

  If he heard me, he didn't show. We kept strolling. On more than one occasion I slowed to admire the flowers, and he would slow to keep my pace.

  "You are not what I expected when we first met."

  "I could say the same about you."

  You're so much better. I shoved the thought away as abruptly as it had arrived.

  "You seem to enjoy walking alone lately."

  That caught my attention. "Do I?" I raised one eyebrow.

  "You dismissed your escort rather efficiently."

  My spine straightened. Had he seen the thread? What did he mean?

  "I prefer not to be overwatered." I said calmly. I trusted him to be smart enough to notice the warning behind it.

  "And yet," he murmured, stepping closer. "You stand in very exposed ground."

  A shiver slipped down my back.

  "I find exposure clarifying. One learns who is watching."

  "And what have you learned?"

  "That some observers mistake silence for simplicity."

  His eyes darkened, just a fraction.

  "And you, Lady Velmire, do you mistake interest for danger?"

  I met his gaze fully, taking a step forward until the distance between us could be misunderstood by a passerby.

  "That depends. On the intentions of the observer."

  He smile softly. "Fair," he whispered before taking a step back.

  He turned slightly, gaze drifting to the glass dome of the Conservatory rising beyond the daffodils and trees.

  "Did you know," he began conversationally "that these gardens were not always the way they are now?"

  I blinked before I followed his line of sight, grateful for the shift.

  "I know they were commissioned by the Third Council."

  "Partially. The structure, yes. But the earliest sections were designed by an unbound horticulturist."

  I shifted my gaze back to him. "Truly?"

  He nodded. "His name was Elian Vostok. Of bravian origin. He developed the hybrid irrigation system still used today in these and other gardens in Lumeria." Sirius bent to brush a gloved finger lightly against a snowdrop. "It was considered revolutionary at the time. Some objected to allowing an unbound to oversee the project."

  "And yet he did."

  "For a time, they managed to have him removed from the position." He smiled amused. "The Council of Arcanuum then held a public contest, hoping to find someone more 'aligned'."

  This time I chuckled. "He won."

  His smile broadened. He nodded. "The Council kept his system," the smile slipped away slowly. "And then they quietly removed his name from the plaques."

  The wind shifted, carrying the pleasant scent of damp earth. My hand moved to tuck a rebellious strand of hair that had fallen over my eyes under my ear.

  "That sounds familiar," I murmured.

  "History tends to repeat itself in subtler forms."

  "And do you find that acceptable?" I asked before I could stop myself.

  "I find it... inefficient."

  My eyebrows rose. "In what sense?"

  "In the sense that talent, when suppressed—especially if flanked with tenacity—tends to resurface elsewhere. Vostok's apprentices went on to redesign irrigation systems in three provinces. Including regions the Council struggles to influence."

  I studied him. "This is not the version they taught at the Institute."

  "Are you surprised?" He smiled, his eyes shining gold at me. I could not keep my mouth from curling.

  "I... seem to prefer stories that complicate things. The ones few care to preserve."

  He just tilted his head, studying me back. I held his gaze, hoping he found my eyes half as enigmatic as I found his. Or more. To rob him of his quiet nights would be payment enough for what he had done to me.

  "And which story do you prefer, Lord Lioren?"

  "The one that survives, no mater how much they try to erase."

  A surge of respect, perhaps admiration, warmed my chest.

  "You surprise me," I admitted.

  "I have been told that's a quality of mine," he said with a cheeky grin. It almost made me forget I was talking with a man older than me.

  "Dangerous one," I teased.

  "Only to those who mistake certainty for strength."

  A faint laugh escaped me.

  He noticed.

  Of course he did.

  "You see? Normal conversation is not impossible."

  "I never claimed it was."

  "Only unlikely?"

  I tilted my head. "With certain observers."

  His smile was unguarded, amused, laced with something I could not yet decipher.

  "Lady Velmire... If I wished to warn you, I would do so plainly."

  I hummed. "And if you wished to encourage me?"

  "Then I would trust you to understand."

  There it was again—layered, but no longer edged.

  The laugher of some ladies walking at the edge of the path reached us. I turned, they didn't seem to have noticed us.

  "We should probably return." My feet didn't move.

  "We should," he agreed.

  For a heartbeat, none of us moved. When the voices and laughter got closer I finally stepped towards the path that would take us back to the others.

  Sirius's steps right beside me.

  "For what is worth," he added, almost casually, "I do not believe you are standing in exposed ground. Not anymore."

  "No?"

  "No." His eyes drifted briefly to the promenade ahead of us. "I believe you are choosing your vantage point."

  A beat.

  "And that," he said quietly, "is far more dangerous."

  It was.

  But fear was no longer shackling me.

  "Do you know why they chose to plant snowdrops and daffodils in this part of the garden?"

  I turned to him at a loss. Was this a metaphor?

  An amused huff escaped me.

  "I don't think I know."

  He grinned at me. "Well, you see, when designing the gardens—"

  "Lord Lioren?" I turned to him. But his attention was straight ahead.

  Whatever had caught his attention seemed to be shocking enough to have immobilized him. I followed his line of sight.

  There, at the entrance of the gardens, staring at us with silent fury was my father.