《The Vow》 A note to the readers Hello! First of all, I would like to thank you greatly for your patience. I am positively ecstatic to bring you Aster''s story once more, in a rewritten version that I feel is more true to not only the characters of this story, but also the events that will transpire. Also, a few things to note before we get into the thick of things. While the setting of this story technically falls into the realm of historical fiction, the language depicted in this story will not necessarily be accurate to the language used in the the time depicted. So when I drop in phrases that seem to be more colloquial than the time period would otherwise imply, please consider it a friendly translation. A way of conveying the events of Aster''s world in a way that I hope is not only more convenient to you, beloved reader, but also one that is more appealing. The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. The same applies to the method of telling time in this story. While I am doubtful that the people of Lucrenz see the span of weeks and months the same way as we do, and most likely have their own way of measuring the passage of time, my usage of the Gregorian calendar is meant not to disregard Lucrenz''s dating system, but to instead provide ease for you to understand the flow of events. Rather than having you get caught up in confusion over what day or month it is, I''d rather have you be able to immerse yourself in Aster''s world with ease. With that said, I hope you''ll enjoy! Chapter 1: Foreboding She wonders if it¡¯s a bad omen. Aster fingers the silver pendant on her mother¡¯s old necklace, the chain snapped neatly in two. Maybe all her nervous fiddling with it had finally taken its toll. Maybe it was about time for an old habit to die. She sighs and pats herself absently, unsure of where to store the necklace until she can find a way to mend it. You¡¯d think the kingdom¡¯s dressmakers could find the time to innovate hidden pockets amongst the layers of fabric and corsets that ladies of nobility were forced to contend with on the daily. Hale knows that Aster could do with some pockets, especially when she lacked the foresight and sense to carry around a reticule with her whenever she left home. Not that she left home very often to begin with. Or had ever needed to use a reticule. She looks down wryly. Oh well. It¡¯s a good thing there¡¯s no one else in the carriage with her. She pulls open the front of her dress and stuffs the necklace down, hoping and praying that it won¡¯t slip out of her bodice in the next few hours. Suddenly she lurches forward, the carriage hitting a bump in the road that jostles her right out of her seat. Her nails scrabble on the seat for purchase, pulling herself back into place just as the carriage resumes its smooth gait. It¡¯s been six years since she¡¯s been to the palace. Six years since she¡¯d taken this very route with her parents under the cover of twilight. She wonders if it¡¯s remained the same. The royal palace from her memories was a dream built of white marble pillars and towering minarets and gardens straight out of a fairytale. At the very least, she hopes the gardens haven¡¯t changed. They¡¯ve always been beautiful in her memories - perhaps even embellished somewhat, the way your fondest recollections grow more rose tinted the more time passes. On the seat beside her lies an unsealed envelope, the letter it holds sticking out halfway from its opening. The paper used is thick and cream coloured, scented with an obnoxious perfume that had made Aster sneeze when she¡¯d first cracked it open. Wholly unnecessary, she¡¯d thought wryly. As if the golden seal on the front wasn¡¯t enough of a giveaway. She doesn¡¯t know why she¡¯d brought the letter with her. It¡¯s not like it served as evidence of her invitation to the palace; not when she¡¯d been personally invited by the royal family. But it¡¯s the letter that she¡¯s waited all her life to receive. The letter that had granted her a chance of reclaiming her freedom, no matter how short-lived it would be. She only wishes¡­ Aster unfolds the letter once more, her eyes scanning over the words for the umpteenth time. It¡¯s the wrong penmanship. The wrong signature at the bottom of the page. Aster had waited for a letter from the palace all her life; and yet when it finally arrived, it was from the wrong person. Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. She stuffs the letter back into its envelope and slumps against the window, watching the forest roll by in swaths of greys and muted greens. Depressing. Winter has always been her least favourite out of the four seasons. Lulled by the rocking of the carriage, Aster closes her eyes, and falls into an uneasy asleep. ????? She wonders if she¡¯s imagining the audible sound of the grandfather clock ticking away in the corner of the room, or if it¡¯s just her anxiety playing tricks on her again; making her painfully aware of every inconsequential sound and detail. The Queen of Lucrenz sits across from her in an ornately carved armchair, a teacup raised to her lips as she takes a sip. She flashes a serene smile at Aster over the rim of her cup. Aster responds with a weak smile of her own, and hopes she doesn¡¯t look constipated. ¡°Thank you for making the journey here, Lady Aster,¡± Queen Annaliese says, cup clacking back into its matching saucer. ¡°I¡¯m sure you must be exhausted.¡± ¡°I¡¯m a little tired, Your Majesty, but otherwise fine. Thank you again for inviting me to the palace. It¡¯s as lovely as I remember.¡± Clarity dawns on the queen¡¯s face. ¡°Ah yes, you¡¯ve visited before. During Rael¡¯s 16th birthday, yes?¡± Aster nods. ¡°I didn¡¯t get to venture much then, but I¡¯m looking forward to seeing the rest of the palace now.¡± ¡°A lucky thing that you have all the time in the world to explore the rest of it.¡± The queen smiles amiably at her. There¡¯s something absurdly comforting about her, from the kind slant of her eyes to the wisps of soft brown hair that have managed to escape from her elegant hairdo. ¡°Really, I¡¯m so thrilled that you accepted our invitation to stay here with us. Since Flynn¡¯s coming-of-age is only little more than a year away and the two of you haven¡¯t had much time to spend together, my husband and I thought: Well, why not have you stay here until the wedding?¡± It makes sense. So much has happened over the past few years that thoughts of her engagement had been effectively pushed to the back of her mind. She wonders if the same had occurred to Florian. ¡°There¡¯s no harm in you two growing closer before you¡¯re properly married,¡± the queen continues. ¡°And although your union is an¡­ arranged affair, I still hope for there to be love between the two of you.¡± ¡°Thank you, Your Majesty. That would be¡­ nice.¡± Aster wonders what face she should make. It¡¯s been so long since she¡¯s had to engage in small talk. But this was the queen she was speaking to. Her¡­ future mother-in-law. Aster plasters on a bashful smile. ¡°I¡¯m truly grateful for the chance to get to know Prince Florian better, and in his own home at that.¡± She lets her gaze fall to her lap as her fingers lace themselves together delicately. A tad overdone, but hopefully the queen will overlook it. Thankfully, instead of looking nauseated, the queen looks rather endeared. ¡°It¡¯s a shame that he isn¡¯t here to greet you. I sent a page after him, but he must be busy. Head always in a book, that one.¡± She shakes her head with a bemused sigh. ¡°But you¡¯ll be able to see him tonight during dinner. Would you do me the pleasure of joining us, Lady Aster?¡± ¡°Oh, please Your Majesty, just Aster is fine. And it¡¯s very kind of you to offer, but¡­¡± Aster thinks back to the long carriage ride over and how it had only taken a few hours to whisk her away from the only life she¡¯s known since she was a child. ¡°Please forgive me, but I think I¡¯m feeling more tired than I had initially thought.¡± ¡°Oh! Of course, you¡¯ve only just arrived after all,¡± the queen says sympathetically. Aster smiles. ¡°Thank you for understanding, Your Majesty. However, I would be more than honoured to join you and your family at dinner tomorrow, if you would have me.¡± ¡°I would be delighted if you could join us for every single meal.¡± The queen practically twinkles back at her. ¡°You¡¯re going to be a part of the family soon, after all.¡± Soon. A year didn¡¯t sound very soon to Aster. But maybe time worked differently in the royal palace. Barely an hour in, yet it already felt like an entirely different world. ¡°I¡¯ll have someone escort you to your room in a bit,¡± the queen says. ¡°But before that, do have some tea, my dear. You haven¡¯t touched your cup at all!¡± Chapter 2: How to Make a First Impression After her meeting with the queen, she¡¯s escorted to her room by the same footman who¡¯d shown her to the queen¡¯s sitting room. But before Aster can utter so much as a word of thanks, he¡¯s already gone. I know he¡¯s a footman, but isn¡¯t that a little too quick? Amused despite herself, Aster steps into her room and is quickly overcome by the scent of flowers. It¡¯s a familiar perfume; sweet, spicy, and the last thing she had expected in this place. She traces the source of it to a tall vase of carnations sitting on the study table in her new room, the lush white blossoms tinged with a pink so dark they seemed almost maroon. ¡°Oh.¡± Nostalgia catches her breath in her throat. How had they known? Wide windows by her study area beckon the sunlight in with open arms, especially welcome when there was so little of it in this weather. A large bookshelf is nestled by the wall beside her study¡¯s desk, shelves bare and waiting to be filled. As she wanders further inside, she steps onto a round rug under her feet, patterned with more flowers. Not the carnations she loves so much, but a motley of spring flowers interwoven with tangles of leaves and vines. A set of wide double doors stands sentry by her study area, leading out to what she assumes is her room¡¯s accompanying balcony. The panes of glass in the doors¡¯ wood make for the perfect frame, capturing the marble of the banister set against a wide swath of sky. Perfect for stargazing, she thinks to herself dreamily. A dressing table sits by the entrance to her balcony, its accompanying mirror fitted with a delicate frame of carved dark wood. But the true centrepiece of her room is the large canopy bed against the wall, fitted with deep purple curtains and silk sheets. The luggage she¡¯d brought along from home sits at the foot of her bed, trunks waiting to be unpacked. Despite not having seen much of the palace yet, she has a hunch that her quarters are somewhat less lavish compared to the rest of the place. Her room doesn''t seem to be any less grand or comfortable, but it feels like special care had been taken so the d¨¦cor would suit her tastes. It feels a little like home, in a way. While the Vastein Estate is esteemed and charming in its own right, Aster¡¯s childhood home isn''t a place of excessive luxury. Her father has never been one for opulence or overindulging, and she¡¯d taken after him in that regard. Rather than golden embellishments or glittering crystal, her home had adorned itself with mother nature¡¯s gifts. Flowers of every colour and variety bloomed on the grounds, decorating the Vastein Estate as grandly as any precious gemstone could. Not to say that her father is a flowers kind of man. He''s more steel and armour and practicality to a fault. Yet, he always crumbled when it came to her mother. ¡°The gardens weren¡¯t always this beautiful,¡± she remembers the maids in the estate telling her as a child. ¡°Not half as grand as they are now. But then the Duke met his wife, and now you can¡¯t take half a step without smelling the scent of flowers.¡± For more than anyone else, her mother loved flowers dearly. And a personal favourite of both hers and Aster¡¯s, were carnations. The memory of her mother brings to mind her broken necklace, and Aster slips a hand down her dress, fumbling for the locket where she¡¯d stashed it earlier. Oh Hale, had it actually slipped out while she was walking? She retraces her steps in her mind, trying to remember if she¡¯d felt anything slip out of her skirts. So caught up in her recollection, she barely registers the quiet knock on the door, nor the person who slips into her room moments later. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. ¡°Good afternoon, Lady Aster. I am-¡° Aster looks up to meet the girl¡¯s gaze, a hand still shoved down her bodice. ¡°Uh,¡± Aster says eloquently. ¡°I can explain.¡± For someone who¡¯s walked in on such a situation, the girl¡¯s expression is impressively composed. She¡¯s dressed in the blue and grey garb of the palace staff, her dark hair pulled up into a bun. ¡°So the thing is,¡± Aster says, having the grace to pull her hand out from her dress before continuing. ¡°While I was in the carriage on my way to the palace, my necklace broke. But I didn¡¯t have anywhere to put it due to the unfortunate nature of the way of dress that ladies of nobility are forced to contend with, Hale don¡¯t even get me started on the abysmal lack of practical pockets on these dresses-¡° Aster Vastein, shut up, shut up. ¡°Annnnnd I¡¯m rambling,¡± Aster finishes lamely, short of clamping a hand over her mouth so she can¡¯t barrage the poor servant girl with more of her nonsense. ¡°Oh Hale. You know what, if you would excuse me for just one second.¡± The girl remains at the entry, face impassive as ever as Aster proceeds to do a little dance around the carpet: a cross between shimmying in place while she repeatedly hops around in a small circle. After a few moments, a faint clink can be heard as something lands on the carpet. ¡°Aha!¡± Aster bends over to scoop up the necklace. ¡°So it did slip out!¡± ¡°I¡¯m glad you found your necklace, my lady.¡± ¡°Thank you!¡± Aster straightens up brightly, seconds before reality gives the back of her head a figurative slap to make her recall the terrible first impression she¡¯d just made. ¡°I¡­ uh. I¡¯m terribly sorry you had to witness that.¡± ¡°You have nothing to be sorry for, my lady,¡± the girl says. ¡°Please don¡¯t worry.¡± ¡°Ah. O¡­ Okay.¡± Aster fumbles a little where she stands, unsure of where to go from here. ¡°This is a little belated on my part, but you are¡­?¡± ¡°My name is Seraphina, my lady. I am to serve you as your personal maid.¡± ¡°Oh. I see.¡± Eloquence, thine name is Aster Vastein. She resists from fidgeting with her fingers as her mind continues to draw a blank. Think Aster, think! What would Damien do in a situation like this? ¡°It¡¯s beautiful.¡± Aster blurts. ¡°Your name, that is. It sounds very pretty.¡± For the first time, Aster can spot what she thinks is a hint of surprise on Seraphina¡¯s face. It¡¯s gone in an instant before she can be sure of it. ¡°Thank you, my lady. You flatter me.¡± She steps further into the room. ¡°I¡¯ve been informed that you won¡¯t be joining the royal family for dinner this evening, so your meal will be brought up shortly. Now, if you¡¯ll excuse me.¡± She makes a move for the trunks sitting at the foot of Aster¡¯s bed. Aster sets her mother¡¯s necklace on the dresser before plopping onto the floor beside Seraphina to help with unpacking. ¡°My lady, you needn¡¯t trouble yourself with this,¡± Seraphina says as she watches Aster rifle through a trunk full of dresses. ¡°But I want to help. Please?¡± Seraphina gives her an odd look. ¡°You don¡¯t have to ask my permission for anything, my lady. You are to be the future wife of the crown prince, after all.¡± Aster wrinkles her nose as she pulls out a lavender dress edged with fine lace. It¡¯s something she¡¯s known all her life. A fact she¡¯d first viewed with disgust, then hope, then an odd, conflicting mix of both. But to hear about her status from someone else is¡­ ¡°It¡¯s so weird,¡± she says aloud, more to herself than anything else. ¡°I haven¡¯t seen him face to face since we were kids. And now, I¡¯m set to marry the guy come next year.¡± She lifts the dress up by its sleeves to let it fall open. Maybe she¡¯d wear this one to breakfast tomorrow. Her old maids had liked it because they thought it went nicely with her hair and brought out the violet of her eyes. Aster just liked it because it was one of her less fussy dresses. ¡°I see,¡± Seraphina says. ¡°I apologise, would you rather I not refer to you in that manner?¡± ¡°Oh no, you don¡¯t have to apologise! I¡¯m fine with being referred to that way, really. It¡¯ll just¡­ take some getting used to.¡± The future wife of the crown prince. How¡­ daunting. The two of them fall silent as they go through the rest of Aster¡¯s luggage. Inwardly, Aster curses her year of solitude and the damage it¡¯s done to her social skills. ¡°How old are you, Seraphina?¡± Aster ventures. ¡°Me? I am sixteen this year, my lady.¡± Aster brightens up in an instant. Sixteen! It¡¯s been so long since she¡¯s been in the company of someone her age. ¡°If I¡¯m not mistaken, you are of the same age, yes, my lady?¡± ¡°That¡¯s right!¡± Aster beams. ¡°Uh-¡° Seraphina waits patiently for her to continue. ¡°Can I¡­ Can I call you Fina?¡± There¡¯s the barest twitch of her lips. Aster can¡¯t tell if it¡¯s a smile or something else. ¡°Whatever you wish, my lady.¡± Chapter 3: The Garden of Dreams After having her dinner ¨C brought up to her room by Seraphina as Aster sorted through her collection of tangled necklaces - Aster finds herself on the edge of her bed, gaze fixed on the fire crackling merrily away in her room¡¯s hearth. Yellow and orange and red dance across the floor, jumping between colourful hues against the backs of her hands, the hem of her nightgown. The shadows twist and sway with the flickering firelight, embers sparking upon their elaborate dance. Aster stifles a yawn behind her hand. She should probably call it a night and go to sleep. As if to prove her point, another yawn pushes past her lips, wide enough to bring tears to the corners of her eyes. She needed her rest. Especially with what was waiting for her tomorrow. Tomorrow, she¡¯ll be introduced to the rest of the royal family. Tomorrow, she¡¯ll come face to face with her fianc¨¦ once more. Tomorrow, she¡¯ll see Florian again. Six years. How much has he changed since they¡¯d first met? Her stomach flips at the thought. Not helpful. If her stomach continues to be adamant on performing circus tricks in her gut, trying to get any sleep tonight would be a pipe dream. Yet her mind keeps circling back to thoughts of tomorrow, so much that Aster doesn¡¯t even know if she wants tomorrow to take its sweet time or to come even faster. She slides off her bed, nervous jitters getting the best of her. She makes for her closet, not even bothering to look at the first cloak she reaches for. She remembers spotting a garden nearby, while she¡¯d been escorted to her room. Would wandering around at this time be appropriate? Probably not. But the longer she stays in her room, the more she feels like she just might tear out of her skin from anxiety. Aster slips the hood of her cloak over her head, before stepping outside her room. Thankfully, blissfully, the hallway beyond is empty. She makes her way down the corridor, trying to recall the way she¡¯d entered this part of the palace. It takes a few turns and detours, and the occasional crouch and duck to avoid the palace¡¯s patrolling guards. But at last, she makes it to a familiar entryway, wide steps leading out to a cobbled stone path. Aster spares a wary glance at her surroundings. No one calls out to her to ask her where she is going. No one raises their voice to demand that she return inside. She alights onto the first step. Then the next. And the next. When she finally makes it onto the cobblestone, she jolts a little at the sensation of the cold stone beneath her slippers. All is quiet. For once, there are no guards. No escorts. She is no longer a prisoner within her own home. An electric thrill races up her spine, freedom granting her feet wings as she hurries down the path. She follows white stone paths and limestone roads lit by glowing lamps, the royal palace of her memories unveiling itself in the moonlight. Fountains and statues continue to slumber as she slips past them, Aster making sure to remain vigilant lest anyone should catch her out at this hour. Even if she¡¯s a guest of the royal family, she isn¡¯t sure of how they¡¯ll take to her skulking around in the shadows unsupervised. Somehow, by some miraculous stroke of luck, she makes it to the garden she¡¯d spotted earlier. Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. It¡¯s a lovely garden, perhaps more so in the moonlight. But it isn¡¯t the same garden she¡¯d visited as a younger girl. This isn¡¯t the garden where she¡¯d first met Florian. Aster shakes her head with a small smile. A silly, futile hope really. After all, what were the chances of her ending up in the garden where they¡¯d first bumped into each other? Regardless, she ventures further in. Even if this wasn¡¯t the garden that she¡¯d hoped to find, it would be a shame for her midnight adventures to end here. Winter blossoms spring from their flower beds in neat orderly rows, their arrangement only interrupted by what seems to be the garden¡¯s main attraction. Aster marvels at the topiary figures that spring up from amongst the flowers like centrepieces; rosebush tigers and rabbits chase each other around the grass while leafy knights stand at attention. A cluster of dancing girls twirl and pirouette, showing off their leafy tutus. The moonlight keeps her companion as Aster gives out salutes and shakes hands with giant teddy bears, giddy with wonder. She stops by another topiary shaped like a young man, figure permanently stuck in a half-bow. He has a hand proffered out, an invitation to an invisible dance partner. ¡°A dance?¡± Aster asks, a hand fluttering over her mouth. If anyone could see her, they would think she was a right ditz. But what did she care? No one else was around to judge. She drops into a curtsy, giggling a little to herself as she rises. What was it about the moonlight, that made things seem more magical? She steps back to take in the topiary man from a distance. Had he been modelled after someone? A passing servant? A visiting gentleman? Perhaps¡­ even one of the princes? She mulls over the possibilities, her feet pacing backwards mindlessly. ¡°Oh sorry,¡± Aster mutters on reflex, feeling her back brush up against something. Probably another topiary. She hopes it doesn¡¯t mind. ¡°Who are you?¡± Aster freezes. Either the topiary she¡¯d bumped into really did mind, or someone else was in the garden with her. ¡°How long have you been here?¡± The voice demands again. Aster¡¯s hands fly up to the hem of her hood, tugging it further down her face. ¡°State your business.¡± ¡°S-Sightseeing?¡± Aster says, still refusing to turn around. ¡°Sightseeing?¡± The voice says in utter disbelief. ¡°What do you take the royal palace for? A tourist attraction?¡± It¡¯s not like Aster had lied. She really had been sightseeing. What¡¯s so wrong about that? Still, her feet remain glued in place, unable to find the nerve to turn and show her face. ¡°You haven¡¯t answered my first question,¡± the voice continues. A man, Aster thinks. No, a boy. ¡°Who are you? Reveal your face immediately.¡± It¡¯s a tone that brooks no argument. Not unless Aster¡¯s willing to hotfoot it all the way to her room just to escape his ceaseless questioning. Hale, what if he chases after her if she decides to run? Resigning herself to her fate, Aster turns slowly as she faces her questioner, hood still concealing her face. It obscures her vision, making her unable to catch the mystery boy¡¯s face. All she can glimpse is his attire: a dark dress shirt, matching pressed slacks, and a pair of dress shoes so shiny that she¡¯s almost certain she¡¯d be able to catch her reflection in them if she dared to try. ¡°Why are you hiding your face?¡± He demands. ¡°I¡¯m not hiding my face! It¡¯s just¡­ cold.¡± A small part of her shrivels up and dies the second the words leave her mouth. Hale, she¡¯s so rusty. She just knows that Damien would¡¯ve laughed right in her face if he could¡¯ve heard her sorry attempt for an excuse. ¡°Show me your face,¡± Mystery Boy says. ¡°Um-¡° ¡°Are you guilty of something?¡± She can practically hear the disdain dripping from his voice. ¡°Wha- of course not!¡± ¡°Then show me your face. Unless you feel you¡¯ve done something wrong, you should have no problem showing me your face.¡± Aster¡¯s hands tighten around the hem of her cloak. What a cocky little jerk! Could this guy get any more pretentious? ¡°Well? What are you waiting for?¡± Gritting her teeth, Aster lifts the hood from her face slowly, inch by shaky inch. When it reaches her eyes, she takes a small breath, before pushing it completely off her head. Free of her hood, she¡¯s finally able to see the face of her interrogator. Oh, her bewildered mind supplies to her. Oh no. Because she recognises the face of the nuisance who¡¯d interrupted her first night of freedom, of the boy who stares back at her like he¡¯s looking at a ghost. Aster¡¯s breath rattles in her chest, every anger word she''d thought of spitting disappearing into smoke. Somehow, she manages to find her voice again. ¡°Oh,¡± she all but breathes. ¡°It¡¯s you.¡± Chapter 4: A Rude Awakening He looks different now; but that much is a given. It¡¯s been six years after all. Six years, and yet that boyish charm still stubbornly clings to him, evident in the curve of his cheek, the upward slant of his eyes. His auburn hair is dishevelled, like he¡¯s just finished running his hands through it. ¡°Aster Vastein,¡± Prince Florian Klars says, words escaping him in a hushed whisper. The moonlight limns his eyes a silvery brown, the colour of frost touched pine. Aster stares back at him dazedly. It takes her a second to remember how to string her words into sentences. ¡°Oh, uh, yep. That¡¯s¡­ me.¡± This wasn¡¯t how their reunion was supposed to go. Not with him walking in on Aster in her nightgown and slippers while she dances around the garden and flirts with the bushes. Oh Hale, had he seen all that? ¡°You¡¯re not supposed to be here,¡± Florian says. ¡°Ah, yeah, I thought as much. I¡¯m really sorry that you had to find me out here in the gardens-¡° ¡°You¡¯re not supposed to be in this castle,¡± Florian cuts in. And only then does Aster notice the chill in his voice. The hostility that outlines his features. ¡°What are you talking about?¡± Aster clutches her cloak tighter around herself. ¡°Of course I¡¯m supposed to be here. Your family invited me to stay in the palace until our wedding.¡± ¡°What do you mean my¡ª¡± He stops short, clearly coming to the answer himself. He presses a hand to his temples, like he¡¯s suppressing an oncoming headache. ¡°Of course. Mother. It has to be,¡± he mutters. ¡°Always doing as she likes.¡± He drops his hand with a bone-weary sigh. ¡°Look, I don¡¯t know what you expect from me, but just¡­ don¡¯t.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t what?¡± Aster wishes she¡¯d grabbed something warmer. The chill that claws its way over her skin feels like it might just cut through. ¡°Don¡¯t expect anything from me.¡± Florian¡¯s words hang in the air like icicles. ¡°Not warmth, not affection, and certainly not¡­ love. Because I for one, don¡¯t expect any of that from you.¡± ¡°But you invited me here.¡± Aster¡¯s voice is quiet. She¡¯s afraid that if she¡¯s any louder, he might hear the way it quavers. ¡°You asked me to come.¡± Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! Florian¡¯s expression remains unmoved. It hurts more, somehow. To see him apathetic, rather than angry or disdainful. Like he can¡¯t even be bothered to care. ¡°Lady Vastein, I didn¡¯t even know you were coming. And frankly, I never wanted you to.¡± ????? Aster wakes up the next morning feeling perfectly fine. If you can call heartbroken perfectly fine, then yes, terrifically peachy. She wishes she had caught a fever. That way, she could avoid coming down for breakfast and meeting the royal family, avoid seeing Florian and his stupid boyish face and his stupid boyish hair and the way that he just didn¡¯t care. Aster wants to take a hammer to her memories and smash them to smithereens. What had she seen in him six years ago, to make her replay the night they¡¯d met countless times in her head? What kind of spell had been cast on her to make her actually want to see him again even after getting snubbed all those years ago? ¡°I shouldn¡¯t have had my hopes up,¡± she mumbles miserably into her hands, rolling onto her side so she can curl in on herself. Stupid, stupid, stupid. She should¡¯ve listened to Damien. She should¡¯ve known better. Aster doesn¡¯t know how long she stays like that, wallowing in her own self-pity. But eventually, there¡¯s a knock on her door, followed by the gentle sound of it opening and closing. ¡°Good morning, my lady,¡± she hears Seraphina say. ¡°It¡¯s time to get ready.¡± Maybe she should just pretend to be sick. Her hands feel like stones as she forces herself to pry them away from her face. She rises to a sitting position. ¡°¡¯Morning, Fina,¡± she greets. ¡°You seem tired, my lady.¡± ¡°Just a little.¡± Aster offers her a wry smile. ¡°Seems like it¡¯ll take me a while to get used to falling asleep in this bed.¡± ¡°I see, that¡¯s too bad. I hope your quality of sleep improves soon.¡± ¡°Thanks, Fina. I hope so too.¡± After a quick wash in the bathroom, Aster sits at the dresser as Seraphina combs out her hair. The face reflected in the mirror is pale, the shadows under her eyes only amplifying how pasty she looks. ¡°You¡¯ll be joining the royal family for breakfast, yes?¡± Seraphina says, hands gentle as she works out the tangles in Aster¡¯s hair. ¡°Yep. For breakfast and every other meal on every single day.¡± Oh, what fun. What fun, fun, fun, fun, funnnnnnnnn. Aster forces on a smile, the side of her mouth quirking up at Seraphina¡¯s reflection. ¡°Make me pretty, Fina?¡± ¡°You¡¯re already very pretty without my help, my lady.¡± ¡°You¡¯re just saying that.¡± Aster flaps a hand at her, pleased despite herself. After all, Seraphina didn¡¯t seem like the kind to pay lip service just for the sake of it. ¡°I have no reason to lie, my lady.¡± Seraphina offers her a slight smile, attention focused on bringing her hair into order. ¡°Oh. How strange.¡± Aster watches through the mirror as her maid pulls a stray leaf from her hair. ¡°How did this end up here?¡± Face carefully clueless, Aster shrugs back. ¡°It¡¯s a mystery.¡± Chapter 5: Breakfast with Destiny Aster fingers the hem of her sleeve absentmindedly as they make their way to the dining room, passing by lush hallways and the occasional servant. Not everyone openly stares, but she can still feel the weight of their gazes on her as she walks past with Seraphina as her guide. She keeps her chin up, eyes focused straight ahead as she tries her best not to shrink under their stares. She will no longer be the little girl who was once fazed by stares and whispers; the girl who hid herself within her mansion walls to avoid the scathing words of others. ¡°Please don¡¯t mind them, my lady,¡± Seraphina says quietly. ¡°It¡¯s out of the norm to have the prince¡¯s betrothed stay at the palace before they are officially wed. Everyone¡¯s just a little too curious.¡± Aster looks back at her in surprise. She hadn¡¯t expected Seraphina to bring up the passing stares, much less try to comfort her about it. ¡°It¡¯s fine.¡± Aster looks ahead, warmed by the gesture. ¡°Even I¡¯ll admit it¡¯s unusual, me staying here.¡± Seraphina leads them out onto a narrow walkway, where a grand staircase in the middle of the path spills down onto a lower floor. Lining the wall to their left is a collection of portraits. Aster¡¯s gaze lingers over the first painting in the row: a depiction of a striking blonde man with kind features and twinkling amber eyes. ¡°I still can¡¯t believe that Queen Annaliese prepared so many dresses for me,¡± Aster says as they step down the staircase. She¡¯d been surprised to discover her closets already filled to the brim with an array of dresses, while unpacking with Seraphina the day prior. ¡°I barely have any space left to store the dresses I brought from home.¡± ¡°And there will be more to come, my lady.¡± Aster looks over at her incredulously. ¡°More dresses?¡± ¡°Certainly. What¡¯s in your closets now are only dresses curated for winter. Naturally you will have other dresses tailored for the other seasons, not to mention special events, holidays, and any trends that may come and go in the meantime.¡± ¡°Is that much really necessary?¡± Aster takes in this information with wide eyes. The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡°Certainly. A lady of your standing must always be in fashion, my lady. And with your status as Prince Florian¡¯s betrothed, even more eyes will be on you once the two of you are presented to the public officially.¡± Aster can¡¯t help but heave an inward sigh. Certainly, she liked beautiful things as much as any other girl; but not to the extent of keeping up to date with the latest trends and whims of high society. She¡¯d never thought it necessary, considering how she had barely left the Vastein Estate to begin with. ¡°Does fashion not interest you, my lady?¡± ¡°Well, rather than not interesting me, it¡¯s more like¡­ I never had to think about it much before this?¡± ¡°Ah, so that explains it.¡± ¡°Explains what?¡± Aster looks over at Seraphina when she remains silent. Maybe she was seeing wrong, but Seraphina seemed to look a tiny bit¡­ regretful? ¡°Please ignore what I just said, my lady. I misspoke.¡± Aster keeps up with her stare, tilting her head to the side slightly for added effect. ¡°No, no, please elaborate.¡± Seraphina manages to meet her gaze for all of five seconds, before averting her eyes once more. ¡°My lady, if I may say as much¡­¡± ¡°Yes?¡± ¡°¡­ the dresses that you brought¡­¡± ¡°Mhmm?¡± ¡°¡­they¡¯re rather out of season.¡± Seraphina looks up in surprise when Aster starts to laugh. ¡°My lady?¡± ¡°Sorry, sorry, you were so hesitant that I thought it you were going to say something much more serious. But you¡¯re probably right,¡± Aster says, still smiling. ¡°Gosh, I really do have much to learn, and not just about fashion.¡± Forget being crown princess material; the way Aster is now, she¡¯s certain that she barely amounts to even a quarter of the lady she¡¯s supposed to be. They step into another hallway, this one warmer and significantly busier than the previous ones they¡¯d passed. A server bearing a silver tray walks swiftly past them before disappearing past a set of dark double doors. ¡°Are you interested in fashion, Seraphina?¡± Aster asks, as they approach the entrance to the dining room. ¡°Somewhat, my lady.¡± ¡°That¡¯s great!¡± Aster claps her hands together gleefully. ¡°In that case, would you like to help me have a look at the rest of the dresses that Her Majesty prepared for me? I didn¡¯t have the time to do so yesterday, and honestly, I don¡¯t think I¡¯d be able to tell which would be the best pick for me.¡± Seraphina breaks into a slight smile. ¡°I would be honoured to help you, my lady.¡± As they come to a stop in front of the dining room, the slow realisation of what waits behind the gleaming wooden doors begins to numb Aster¡¯s earlier glee. The rest of the royal family. Florian. What face should she make once she sees him? How well could she pretend? These thoughts rattle around Aster¡¯s skull as she draws in a quiet breath. The sooner she gets this over with, the better. She flashes Seraphina a quick smile. ¡°See you later, Fina.¡± Seraphina nods slightly. ¡°Of course, my lady.¡± Steeling herself, Aster faces forwards and pushes open the doors. Chapter 6: Cardboard Pastries Winter sunlight filters through the wide windows, showering the dining room in soft white light. At the head of a long table sits the king, a man with curly brown hair and a furrow in his brow as he surveys a document. The queen is seated on his right, a porcelain teacup cupped in her hands as she sips from it daintily. In the seat beside her sits a young girl with golden hair, her hands reaching out for a bowl of fruit on the dining table. She must be the princess. The darling angel of Lucrenz, or so her maids used to claim. Faced with the real deal now, Aster thinks she can understand the reason for all their poetic waxing. Between the shimmering gold of the princess¡¯ flaxen hair and her gleaming amber eyes, she¡¯s the epitome of angelic. Like she¡¯s been lifted straight out of the pages of a fairy tale, or right from the lovingly painted mosaics you can find on the sides of the handful of spirit shrines dotting the towns. Aster stifles a smile as she watches Lucrenz¡¯s darling angel wrinkle her nose at something in her bowl, before sneaking the offending berry onto her mother¡¯s plate. And Prince Florian¡­ is nowhere to be seen at the dining table. Aster doesn¡¯t know if she should be relieved or miffed. ¡°Aster.¡± The queen greets her warmly when she notices her, smile somehow making the room brighter than it already was. ¡°Good morning. Did you have a good rest?¡± ¡°Good morning, Your Majesty,¡± Aster says, dropping into a curtsy. ¡°I did, thank you for asking.¡± ¡°I¡¯m glad to hear that. I hope your room was to your liking.¡± ¡°It was. The flowers were especially lovely.¡± The queen claps her hands together in delight. ¡°Did we get them right? Solomon wrote to your father to ask for your preferences, so I suppose we couldn¡¯t have gotten much wrong. But it¡¯s still a relief to hear that.¡± Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. Aster can¡¯t help sneaking a surprised glance at the king. His Majesty personally wrote to her father just to ask about that? The king catches her in the act, a smile warming his features as he sets down his papers to regard her. ¡°I¡¯m glad they were to your liking,¡± he says. ¡°Your father was rather extensive in his list.¡± ¡°Oh.¡± Aster can¡¯t help the wave of second-hand embarrassment that washes over her. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry for the trouble.¡± ¡°Please, don¡¯t be,¡± he rebuffs easily. ¡°It just goes to show how much your father truly cares for you. Besides, I was the one who insisted to know.¡± Her heart twinges at the mention of her father. It was difficult to feel touched about her father¡¯s act of kindness, especially when things were still so¡­ complicated, between them. ¡°Then you have my gratitude, Your Majesty,¡± Aster says. ¡°The pleasure is ours, Lady Aster. Please, join us for breakfast,¡± the king says. A server pulls out the second chair to the king¡¯s left; the first likely reserved for Florian. Aster takes the seat with a murmur of thanks. She barely tastes her food as she eats. It¡¯s a crying shame. Her first meal in the royal palace, and she¡¯s too preoccupied with her stomach twisting itself into knots for her to even notice what¡¯s on her plate. A wooden creak floats through the room, Aster belatedly recognising it to be the sound of the doors to the dining room as they open. Her stomach lodges itself in her throat. She doesn¡¯t want to look. But she has to. Aster looks towards the entry, and wonders if she¡¯s going to be sick. Her nausea dissipates into relief when she sees that the person in the doorway isn¡¯t Florian. Instead, a small boy stands at the entry, wire-rimmed glasses taking up half his face. He walks briskly towards their table before stopping by the king¡¯s side. ¡°Good morning, Your Majesty,¡± the boy says with a slight bow. ¡°I am here to inform you that Prince Florian isn¡¯t feeling well today, and is unable to join you for breakfast.¡± ¡°Is that so,¡± the king says. ¡°Bring up a tray for him, Ren. And tell him that there¡¯s a fine line between working hard and working yourself to an early grave.¡± ¡°Of course, Your Majesty.¡± Another slight bow, before the boy departs from the room as swiftly as he¡¯d come. Aster stares down at her half-eaten pastry, appetite all but gone. Was Florian really unwell? Or was he just¡­ Stomach protesting, Aster forces herself to pick up her pastry again, even if it tastes like cardboard in her mouth. Chapter 7: An Ailment of the Heart ¡°Your Highness,¡± says Ren. ¡°Weren¡¯t you supposed to be unwell?¡± ¡°Do you think I have the time to be sick?¡± Florian doesn¡¯t bother looking up from the mound of paperwork on his desk, too busy flipping through a status report on the knights. Good, good, nothing seems to be amiss. ¡°What did I tell you about bringing work into your bedroom? What¡¯s the use of a study if your place of rest serves the same function?¡± Ren¡¯s voice is exasperated as he carefully shoves aside some of the papers, making space for the silver tray he sets on the table. ¡°Is that breakfast? Thanks, Ren.¡± ¡°It¡¯s courtesy of His Majesty. He also told me to inform you that there¡¯s a fine line between hard work and working yourself to an early grave.¡± ¡°Did he now? That¡¯s nice, makes me feel all warm and fuzzy,¡± Florian says tonelessly. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t want more than one son kicking the bucket too early; heirs don¡¯t grow from trees after all.¡± ¡°Your Highness.¡± Ren¡¯s weary tone belies how many times they¡¯ve gone through this age-old song and dance. ¡°I jest, Ren. I jest.¡± Satisfied with the report, Florian sets it aside so he can reach for the next document in the pile. A hand slaps over the stack before he can. ¡°Eat,¡± says Ren. ¡°Is that any way to speak to your charge?¡± Florian jokes. Like he¡¯d ever mean it. He¡¯s never expected decorum from Ren. Not then, and not now. ¡°Please have some breakfast, Your Highness, before I toss all your paperwork into the kitchen¡¯s furnace.¡± ¡°Can¡¯t have that now, can we?¡± Ren doesn¡¯t let up on his pointed stare, nor does he remove the hand that¡¯s resting over the papers. Florian finally turns away from his work begrudgingly. ¡°You can¡¯t tell,¡± he grumbles sulkily as he plucks a strudel from the tray. ¡°But I¡¯m quite upset with you.¡± ¡°Oh dear,¡± Ren says flatly. ¡°That¡¯s unfortunate. Should I ask why?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Then why are you upset, Your Highness?¡± ¡°There¡¯s an unwelcome guest at breakfast today, that¡¯s why.¡± Ren stares blankly at him for a few seconds before it registers. ¡°Ah. I should¡¯ve known that would be the reason for you acting up.¡± ¡°I am not acting up.¡± ¡°You¡¯re skipping breakfast just so you won¡¯t see your fianc¨¦, Your Highness. If that isn¡¯t ¡®acting up¡¯, I don¡¯t know what is.¡± ¡°You didn¡¯t tell me she was coming!¡± Florian bites into his pastry bitterly. ¡°I was under orders not to.¡± ¡°Were those orders from my mother?¡± Ren doesn¡¯t answer. Florian takes another bite, chewing furiously all the while. ¡°I can¡¯t believe you were informed of it and not me. Does my mother place so little trust in me?¡± ¡°Coming from the person who¡¯s faking illness just to avoid his fianc¨¦, I¡¯d say it¡¯s warranted.¡± Ren looks surreptitiously away as Florian stares daggers at him. ¡°How did you find out anyway, Your Highness? It was supposed to be a surprise you know. A charming little reunion at breakfast complete with heart-shaped sparkles and birdsong.¡± This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. ¡°I knew skipping was a good idea.¡± ¡°Did you hear about it from one of the servants? I¡¯m certain that extra care was taken so you wouldn¡¯t find out, but I suppose it¡¯s impossible to keep people from talking.¡± Florian tosses the rest of his pastry into his mouth, buying himself a handful of precious seconds as he chews extra thoroughly. "Well..." He meanders eventually. "Well?" ¡°I met her last night." He''s careful to avoid Ren¡¯s hawk-like gaze. ¡°You visited her chambers?¡± Stark disbelief colours his voice. ¡°Oh, you wish.¡± ¡°Of course I do. I¡¯m sure Her Majesty feels the same.¡± Florian snorts. ¡°Sorry to burst your little fantasy, but I met her in the gardens. She must¡¯ve been taking a walk.¡± ¡°In the middle of the night?¡± ¡°It wouldn¡¯t be out of character for her.¡± He curses himself for the slip of tongue when Ren quirks an eyebrow at him. Florian forces a nonchalant shrug. ¡°People don¡¯t change much.¡± ¡°Do they now?¡± The weight of Ren¡¯s piercing gaze on him makes his skin itch. ¡°So how was it?¡± ¡°How was what?¡± ¡°Meeting her again.¡± Florian gives up another shrug, all I-could-care-less. ¡°Nothing special.¡± ¡°I think a moonlit rendezvous warrants more than just a ¡®nothing special¡¯.¡± Against Florian¡¯s best wishes, a memory flashes through his mind: of a garden cloaked in winter chill, awash in the light of the moon. Only instead of topiaries and the back of a dark cloak edged in fur, what comes to mind is this: the sounds of a distant ballroom and the gentle burbling of a marble fountain; a high, hesitant voice rising above all of that. ¡°Hey.¡± She looks at him with wide violet eyes, concerned and bewildered all at once. ¡°Are you-¡° Florian pushes the tray away from him abruptly, appetite soured. ¡°The use of the word rendezvous would imply both parties actually intending to meet each other,¡± he says distastefully. ¡°So why were you out so late last night, if not for a rendezvous?¡± ¡°What, a guy can¡¯t take a midnight stroll around his own gardens?¡± Ren rolls his eyes skyward. ¡°No, no, of course you can. I¡¯m sure they¡¯re even more of a sight to see under the moonlight.¡± A quiet huff escapes him as his gaze falls away from Florian. There¡¯s a brief note of silence, a pause filled only by the clicking of ceramic as Florian reaches for his cup of coffee. ¡°You were wrong though,¡± Ren says eventually. ¡°About people not changing.¡± Florian quirks an eyebrow at him as he sips, waiting for him to elaborate. ¡°I¡¯ve heard stories from the head steward you know; stories about the palace before I started working here. Some were about you, naturally.¡± ¡°Stories about what an angel I was, I bet.¡± ¡°He said that Lady Vastein was all you used to talk about.¡± Florian swallows harshly, his coffee going down the wrong way. ¡°I was a kid,¡± he manages to bite out. ¡°He said that you used up all the paper in your study to write her letters. That you couldn¡¯t sleep the night before you visited the Vastein Estate, only to end up making a fuss the next morning because you were worried about looking awful in front of her. That¡ª¡± ¡°That¡¯s all in the past.¡± Florian¡¯s voice comes out sharper than intended. When he meets Ren¡¯s gaze, what¡¯s reflected in his eyes makes Florian¡¯s stomach curl. ¡°Then what changed, Your Highness?¡± ¡°You know what changed.¡± His words come out bitter, tasting of resentment and the acrid sting of caffeine. Florian¡¯s cup clatters back into its saucer. Ren sighs. ¡°How long will you cling to past grievances? Just because of what happened when you two were children-¡° ¡°You know it¡¯s more than that!¡± His hands ball themselves into fists on the surface of his desk. ¡°It¡¯s more than just a past grievance and you know it.¡± Ren looks unflinchingly back. ¡°Then for how long will you keep running away? From reality? From your fianc¨¦?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t you start with me, Ren.¡± ¡°What if there¡¯s more to what happened all those years ago?¡± ¡°The last thing I want to hear from her,¡± Florian spits. ¡°Is an excuse.¡± ¡°Perhaps. Or maybe, it could also be the truth.¡± Ren¡¯s voice remains damningly even. ¡°She¡¯s already here, Your Highness. Will you face her properly this time? Or will you keep running?¡± Florian clenches his fists, tight enough that he¡¯s sure of the angry half-moons etched into the skin of his palms. ¡°Get out,¡± he says through gritted teeth. ¡°So you¡¯re running.¡± ¡°Get. Out.¡± ¡°Your Highness¡ª no, Flynn-¡± ¡°Don¡¯t make me turn it into an official order, Ren.¡± Silence. He hears a sharp intake of breath; an attempt at maintaining composure. ¡°I¡¯ve overstepped,¡± Ren says coolly. ¡°As you wish, I shall take my leave now. Please enjoy the rest of your breakfast, Your Highness.¡± Fading footsteps, before the door closes behind him with a resounding click. Florian pinches the bridge of his nose as he slumps backwards into his seat. Shit. He shouldn¡¯t have pulled the royalty card on Ren. He presses his palms into his face with a sigh, the beginnings of a raging headache already throbbing at the base of his skull. Chapter 8: A-mazed Pt.1 The snow crunches underfoot as Aster makes her way through the palace¡¯s gardens. It had snowed the previous night, leaving behind a fresh blanket that she now takes great pleasure in ruining with her footprints. Seraphina sticks to Aster''s side dutifully, another explanation rolling off her tongue as they venture further in. It''s been a week since Aster first arrived at the palace. A week since she¡¯d bumped into Florian under the moonlight. A week since she¡¯s seen him since. Florian¡¯s first absence at breakfast that day had turned into another absence during lunch. Then dinner. Then again at breakfast the next day. Then lunch. Then¡ª well, you get the point. By now, it''s clear as day to anyone that Florian isn''t simply, ''unwell''. Just the sight of his empty seat during mealtimes is enough to take the edge off Aster¡¯s appetite. King Solomon hadn¡¯t been pleased, expression turning stormy when Ren had informed him once more today that, His Highness is unable to attend breakfast this morning. Aster was sure the king would¡¯ve lost his temper if it wasn¡¯t for the gentle hand that Queen Annaliese placed on his arm, accompanied by a firm look laden with quiet meaning. Ren was then stiffly dismissed, before breakfast resumed as per usual. Now, as she strolls through the gardens with Seraphina, Aster can''t help but feel that something''s amiss. She always looks forward to their walks, and never fails to enjoy them. But is it her imagination, or did the gardens today seem a bit more¡­ dismal than usual? Not as vibrant, even with the smattering of icy diamonds decorating each and every flower on display. "Maybe winter''s beginning to get to me," Aster thinks to herself morosely. Pretty as the snow can be, she''s never taken much of a liking to the season. She tries to listen attentively as Seraphina points out the gardens'' different sections, listing out each of their resepective specialties and attractions. But Aster¡¯s mind seems intent on running away with her thoughts, scattering her focus like snow flurries in the wind. ¡°My lady?¡± Aster startles a little as she turns to meet Seraphina¡¯s even gaze. ¡°Yes?¡± ¡°Are you alright?¡± A current of concern underlies her voice. You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. ¡°I¡¯m perfectly dandy,¡± Aster beams. ¡°Why do you ask?¡± ¡°You just seem less¡­ energetic, today.¡± ¡°Do I?¡± Aster hums. ¡°Perhaps it was because we stayed up so late last night. I mean it was mostly my fault, since I insisted on you staying with me until late. But part of it¡¯s your fault too Fina! You¡¯re just too good a storyteller.¡± Aster wrinkles her nose accusingly at her. ¡°Perhaps.¡± Aster thinks she can hear a trace of amusement in Seraphina''s voice. ¡°It helps to have such an eager audience.¡± If there was any good to come out of the previous week, it had to be Aster¡¯s success at chipping away Seraphina¡¯s formal exterior. With just the right kind of questions and a certain amount of prodding, Aster¡¯s discovered that her maid knows way more than she lets on. And best of all: that she isn''t all that reluctant to let Aster in on her insider knowledge. Secret trysts between the servants, age old myths floating around the palace, gossip traded between the staff on affairs both royal and not; her maid seemed to have a handle on every word that was so much as breathed within the palace walls. ¡°People like to hear themselves talk,¡± her maid had said simply, as Aster marvelled over the extent of her information gathering. ¡°I simply listen if they need an ear. And on the occasion where they do speak of private matters but don¡¯t notice me in vicinity, well¡­¡± And Aster had laughed, before urging her to continue her spiel on the stairway on the third floor of the west wing, and why Aster must never go anywhere near there especially in the early hours of the morning. Now, Seraphina continues to pin her with that look of hers, like she knows there¡¯s more to Aster¡¯s fatigue than Aster will let on. And it warms her, just a little; to know that she''s managed to find an ally even in a place that feels so out of her depth. Aster''s breath comes out in a puff of white. ¡°Say, Fina¡­¡± Do you think Florian hates me? She stretches an arm out to point at something in front of them, inlaid into the towering hedges they¡¯ve been walking past since they stepped into this stretch of the gardens. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± She asks instead. They approach the arching gateway, which on closer inspection, is actually composed of twisting rose branches. Brilliant crimson blooms spring up from the arch, their petals seeming to glisten with an almost silvery hue that can¡¯t be attributed to the morning dew or their faint dusting of snow. ¡°This is the entrance to the palace¡¯s maze, my lady.¡± Aster perks up, mood lifting temporarily. She¡¯s heard of the maze before, during her first visit to the palace. Her parents ¨C more than aware of their daughter¡¯s penchant for wandering off on her own - had warned her extensively about avoiding the maze; her mother even joking that if Aster got lost, they¡¯d simply leave her to fend for herself and only come for her in the morning. (Her father¡¯s aghast face had said otherwise, but even now, Aster¡¯s unsure if her mother¡¯s joking had been purely jest. She¡¯d always had a strange sense of humor, her mother.) ¡°Is it true?¡± Aster turns eagerly towards Seraphina, all her former fatigue dissipating. ¡°That the maze is alive?¡± ¡°Alive,¡± Seraphina echoes bemusedly. ¡°That¡¯s certainly one way to put it. Most people would simply call it magical.¡± Chapter 9: A-mazed Pt. 2 Just that word sets off a thrum in Aster¡¯s veins. Magical. ¡°The palace¡¯s maze covers a vast part of the main gardens, and is considered one of the best defences the palace has to offer,¡± Seraphina continues, launching into her customary explanation as Aster pokes her head past the maze¡¯s entrance. Hedge walls flank the pathway that stretches out before her, an untouched layer of snow blanketing the grass. ¡°Legend has it that the maze has been here since the time of Lucrenz¡¯s first king, a gift from the spirits to and a token of their favour for the royal family.¡± ¡°It doesn¡¯t feel very magical,¡± Aster notes, retreating from the entry. ¡°Has anyone ever gotten lost in it?¡± ¡°There have been occasions where guests who¡¯ve been invited to the royal palace for events end up stranded within. Usually, the guards have to be dispatched the following morning to rescue them.¡± Seraphina¡¯s expression turns wry. ¡°It¡¯s for this exact reason that His Majesty never fails to declare the maze being off-limits during events, but I suppose people never learn.¡± ¡°How about the castle¡¯s servants?¡± Seraphina ponders over it for a second. ¡°Now that you mention it, I don¡¯t think any of the servants have ever ended up lost in the maze.¡± ¡°Does the castle make you memorise a map or something?¡± Seraphina shakes her head. ¡°No. But I¡¯m sure they would, if they could map out the maze to begin with.¡± Aster¡¯s eyebrows furrow. ¡°Are you saying¡­ the maze constantly changes?¡± ¡°Not quite¡­¡± The faintest of wrinkles appear in Seraphina¡¯s brow. ¡°Forgive me my lady, I¡¯m not quite sure myself of how it works.¡± ¡°Ah, that¡¯s fine. We can always find out more from someone who knows better,¡± Aster says, flapping a hand at her airily. ¡°Don¡¯t sweat it, Fina.¡± Seraphina¡¯s gaze lingers over the maze¡¯s entrance. ¡°I may not know the rules that govern it, but¡­ I do have my own experiences with the castle¡¯s maze.¡± ¡°You¡¯ve been in it before?¡± Aster¡¯s voice comes out awed. ¡°Naturally. All the servants have used it as a shortcut at some point.¡± An amused smile appears on Seraphina¡¯s face, likely due to the look of wonder that Aster must be sporting now. ¡°There¡¯s a rumor passed around the servants: about how the maze helps out those who are in a hurry and have places to be. I didn¡¯t believe it myself at first, but¡­ well, let¡¯s just say that I too, have been on the receiving end of the maze¡¯s aid more than once.¡± Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Aster turns towards the maze, a new light in her eyes. ¡°A magical maze with a moral compass¡­¡± She turns towards Seraphina with a grin. ¡°I wonder if the library has anything that can tell us more about it.¡± They end up spending the remainder of the day scouring the library''s resources, rooting through its endless rows of shelves for anything they can find about the maze. Several hours in, Aster shuts the book she¡¯d been poring over with an air of solemnity. She pushes it aside, her forehead thunking onto the table with a disappointed thud. ¡°How is it that we¡¯ve found absolutely nothing on the maze?" She bemoans. "Not in An Extensive History of Lucrenz, not in Roots of the Royal Family, and not even in all 7 volumes of My Royal Rendezvous: Secrets in the Castle?¡± ¡°My lady, isn¡¯t My Royal Rendezvous a romance serial?¡± Aster¡¯s forehead remains glued to the table. ¡°¡­So maybe I got side-tracked,¡± she admits sheepishly. ¡°Evidently.¡± Seraphina sounds like she¡¯s trying not to laugh. ¡°But still-¡° Aster presses her palms onto the table to push herself upright. ¡°This is ridiculous! How have we not found any information other than the fact that the maze has been here since Lucrenz was first founded? Shouldn¡¯t that fact alone be enough reason to have more information on it?¡± ¡°It is quite strange,¡± Seraphina admits. She glances outside the window, her lips twisting into a slight frown. ¡°Oh my, I didn¡¯t realise how late it¡¯s gotten. It¡¯s almost dinnertime, my lady.¡± Just like that, all thoughts of Florian come flooding back into Aster¡¯s brain. With how preoccupied she¡¯d been while digging for information on the maze, she¡¯d barely had time to fret over him and his string of absences. She imagines herself sitting through dinner, once again seated beside a glaringly empty seat at the dining table. Just the thought has a wave of something roiling through her gut. Was it guilt? Nausea? Hale if she knows. Aster gets to her feet with a sigh. ¡°I just wish we had a better lead. Isn¡¯t there anyone in the palace we can consult?¡± The castle librarian had been helpful enough to suggest them books on Lucrenz¡¯s history, but that evidently, had ended up with nothing to show. To be honest, while Aster had been intrigued about the maze to begin with, it wasn¡¯t like she was dying to spill every single secret its walls had to hold. But the lack of information - on such a focal part of the castle at that - had set her curiosity ablaze like never before. ¡°You¡¯d think they¡¯d keep records on something like a magical maze, of all things,¡± Aster mutters to herself, as she and Seraphina nod their goodbyes to the librarian as they depart. A magical maze¡­ A magical¡­ ¡°That¡¯s it!¡± Aster turns towards Seraphina abruptly, her maid blinking back at her with wide eyes. ¡°Why didn¡¯t I think of this before- if anyone could tell us more about the maze, it¡¯d be the royal mage!¡± ¡°Oh¡­ yes. Yes of course, Sir Han would know best,¡± Seraphina agrees almost dazedly. ¡°Where can we find him, Fina?¡± ¡°Well, Sir Han is often found at the magic tower, but-¡° ¡°Perfect! Then we can visit the magic tower tomorrow morn-¡° Aster stops in her tracks. ¡°Wait, what do you mean but?¡± ¡°Well¡­ Sir Han isn¡¯t in the castle at the moment, my lady,¡± Seraphina says. ¡°The magic tower is closed.¡± Chapter 10: Once Upon a Time Her disappointment is a tangible thing, a murky blanket weighing her down as she stares blankly up from her mattress. No one knows when Sir Han will be back. Apparently, it¡¯s simply how the man operates: here one day then gone the next, disappearing into the countryside with his apprentice in tow. ¡°No one really knows what they get up to either,¡± Seraphina had said bemusedly. ¡°A large portion of the magic tower¡¯s work is confidential to begin with; but even when not, I suppose not many people feel inclined to know more.¡± ¡°Really? Why not?¡± ¡°Personally, I hold no interest in the royal mage nor his apprentice,¡± Seraphina said, tone turning wry. ¡°But as for everyone else¡­ let¡¯s just say that biases remain difficult things to overcome.¡± Aster blows out a breath through her mouth, wispy strands of white fluttering away from her face. No lead on the maze. And no lead on Damien either. After a few more minutes of mindless staring, she begins to push herself upright. Moping around for too long was never her style. Plus, it got old real fast. She slides off the bed, making her way to the bookshelf in her study. A finger lifts up to trace over the selection of books she¡¯d brought with her from home, hovering over spines with cracked edges and stiff hardcovers crammed with illustrations. She pauses on a thin hardback, pulling it out from the shelf before she flops unceremoniously into her chair. The Princess and the Wisp. A fairytale, like most of the stories she¡¯d brought along with her from home. To be honest, Aster¡¯s never been all that good at studying. If it weren¡¯t for the agreement she made with her father or what little sense of duty she actually possessed, she would¡¯ve been more than happy to skip out on her lectures in favour of running rampant around the estate. Having someone explain concepts and theories orally to hear made the ordeal somewhat less painful, because then at least she could have someone to bounce ideas off of. It¡¯s the main reason why she had Seraphina accompany her every time she visited the library, just so she could keep Aster from drooling onto the pages of the denser books they had to crack open in pursuit of answers. Now, she flips her storybook open, yellow-edged paper and elaborately drawn ink warm with nostalgia under her fingertips. Once upon a time, the story started, (the way all the best stories do). There was a princess who lived in a beautiful castle. In her castle, she had everything she could ever want. Delicious feasts fit for a princess. Exquisite gowns and shining jewels. Parents who pampered her and an adoring staff. The princess herself, was as lovely as a freshly plucked flower. Her smile was effervescent, radiant enough to rival the sun. Her voice put birdsong to shame. Never a day passed by where the castle did not echo with her sweet song. Never a day passed by where it was not encased in gentle sun. But the princess, lovely and bright as she was, could never step out of the castle. For she harboured a dark secret. You see, the princess was cursed. And yet, she never paid her curse much mind. She was happy in her castle, with her doting parents and attentive staff. She was content. Until one day, a wisp of a shadow appeared before her. ¡°Do you not wish to see what lies outside of this castle?¡± It would come to her when she was alone, sneaking into her dreams, slipping past her defenses. It would whisper to her of scenery that she could never imagine, songs that she¡¯d never even heard of, people and places and wonders just out of her reach. Soon, doubt began to creep into her mind. ¡°The outside that you speak of is beautiful,¡± the princess said to the wisp one day. ¡°But I cannot leave this place, for I am cursed.¡± ¡°What if I could take your curse away?¡± The wisp asked. ¡°I could set you free.¡± The princess grew excited. Would she be able to leave her castle after all? ¡°But you must know,¡± the wisp said. ¡°That once I take away your curse, you will never be able to return to this castle.¡± Stolen story; please report. The princess was shocked. Did that mean leaving behind her parents? Her loving servants? ¡°Yes. But think about the world outside, princess. Think of what you are missing out on. Will you remain in your ornate bubble? Or will you finally spread your wings and soar free?¡± The princess was unable to decide. Surely there must be a way? A way for her to break the curse without having to forsake her family? ¡°There is not,¡± the wisp said gravely. ¡°Such is the gravity of your curse. But I understand your distress. I shall let you think it over. Should you wish to be free of your curse and leave, call upon me, princess.¡± And with a whisper of smoke, the wisp disappeared, leaving behind a shining silver bell in its wake. Aster flips to the last page, even though she knows how it will end. The princess never ends up using the bell and decides to remain in her castle, forever cursed. Maybe there¡¯s a story to be had after the resolution; a tale of the princess breaking free from the shackles of her curse and finding freedom on her own grounds. Alas, if such a sequel indeed exists, Aster hasn¡¯t found it yet. It had been a tad disappointing at first, reaching the story¡¯s conclusion during her first readthrough as a child. But now, Aster finds herself actually empathising with the princess in her storybook. Could she do it? Aster wonders. Trade a life of happiness for one entirely unknown? Would she? She closes the storybook gently, cradling it to her chest as she melts into her chair. Revisiting her childhood favourites always reminded her of happier days. When things like engagements and formalities were faraway blips in the future, and every day was just another adventure waiting to happen. Another tree to climb, another undiscovered patch of forest to explore, another tasty treat in the kitchen waiting to be tasted by eager fingers. Another day to while away with Damien. He''d always hated the Princess and the Wisp; it was his least favourite out of her collection. ¡°The princess should¡¯ve just taken the wisp hostage and made it cough up the way to break her curse,¡± he used to grumble. ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯d do.¡± ¡°How¡¯s she supposed to do that?¡± Aster had asked. ¡°I dunno, she could¡¯ve sat on it or something.¡± ¡°Sat on it?!¡± ¡°Trapped it in a bottle. Held it at knifepoint. I don¡¯t know, I¡¯m not the princess!¡± Aster laughs a little at the memory. Their conversations were always filled with childish nonsense, and yet even those trivial talks were now things that she held most dear. What she¡¯d give to talk about nothing with Damien again. What she¡¯d give to know what he¡¯s getting up to now. Is he staying out of trouble? Does he have a roof over his head? Hale, is he even in Lucrenz anymore? A faint knocking comes from her door. Aster glances warily over. Was it Seraphina? At this hour? But why would she come unannounced? When no one proceeds to enter, Aster relaxes once more, sure that she¡¯d misheard. Knock knock. She jolts upright. She definitely didn¡¯t imagine that. And¡­ Her gaze falls hesitantly onto her balcony doors. Knock. She¡¯s sure of it. The knocking had come from there. An intruder? A stray tree branch? A¡­ A ghost? Knock knock knock. Should she call for Seraphina? But what if the knocking stops by the time she gets here? Knock knock. Aster wills her frozen limbs to unlock themselves. Knock. She weighs over her options. Calling for help is out of the question. What if it isn¡¯t a threat at her balcony? If the looks she gets around the palace are any indication, her reputation is already shaky as is. The last thing she needs is a false scare to fan the flames. Knock knock knock. She reaches for the wrought iron candlestick sitting on her desk and rises to her feet. Inch by shaky inch, she makes her way slowly towards the doors. Knock knock. Is she imagining it? Or did it almost sound like the knocking¡­ Knock. ¡­had a pattern. Aster pauses. Waits. Knock knock knock. Pause. Knock knock. Pause. Knock. And then again. The same sequence, over and over. Like a code. Like¡­ A signal. The realisation stops her right in her tracks. ¡°No,¡± Aster thinks, even as hope surges through her like a rising wave. ¡°It couldn¡¯t be.¡± She barely registers her feet as they cross the floor in seconds, hands reaching out to fling the balcony doors wide open. Aster stands in the doorway, winter air rushing in to nip at her cheeks. But there is no one on her landing. There is nothing but the night; cold and still and silent. All her anticipation escapes her body in a crushing exhale. What was she thinking? Of course he wasn¡¯t here. As if he¡¯d appear out of nowhere just because she missed him- just because she wanted him to show up. A sigh tumbles out of her mouth, unbidden. Aster reaches for the balcony doors. Time to stop dreaming, Aster Vastein. ¡°Hey, princess.¡± She freezes, the doors already mostly closed. She¡¯s hearing things. She must be. Still, Aster pushes the doors back open. Then she looks up. There¡¯s a boy standing on the overhang of the doorway, feet poised on the ledge as he peers down at her. The candlestick Aster had been holding falls to the floor with a clatter. Her mouth forms on a word ¨C a name - but no sound comes. All she can do is stare incredulously. The boy seems to stifle a laugh at her reaction, a smile playing across his features. Lazy. Familiar. Then he steps off the ledge. He tips forward, body suspended weightlessly for a second, before he begins to descend. Down down down he floats headfirst, only coming to a stop once he¡¯s face to face with Aster. His raven hair falls away from his face, leaving those turquoise eyes to twinkle back at her in undisguised mirth. Blue as summer and sea glass; the colour of Aster¡¯s fondest memories. Then he grins. ¡°Long time no see.¡± Chapter 11: A Dream is a Wish Pt. 1 Her body¡¯s moving before she can think. ¡°Prin- shesh?!¡± Aster¡¯s clamped her hands onto his face, his cheeks squished between her palms. ¡°Either I¡¯m dreaming,¡± she mutters to herself with an experimental press. ¡°Or ghosts are a lot warmer than I thought they¡¯d be.¡± ¡°You callinf me a ghossh, prinshesh? Donf go killinh me off sho eashily!¡± ¡°Well you might as well have been dead; I haven¡¯t seen you in a year!¡± Aster administers a vengeful squish to his face. ¡°What are you doing here, Damien?¡± ¡°Vishitinh you?¡± Even at Aster¡¯s mercy and hanging upside down, he still manages to look disdainful. ¡°Duh.¡± ¡°You know what I-¡° A chill brushes over her bare arms, the sleeves of her nightgown pooled at her elbows. It¡¯s enough to remind her that they¡¯re still on her balcony, in plain sight of anyone who could possibly be passing by. Hastily, she releases Damien¡¯s cheeks to reach for his shirt, hands closing around his collar to yank him abruptly into her room. By the time she¡¯s closed the doors, Damien¡¯s feet are back on the ground, expression mildly bemused. ¡°Eager, are we?¡± He mutters as he fixes his clothes. ¡°You.¡± Aster points an accusatory finger at him. ¡°How did you get in?¡± ¡°Get in what?¡± ¡°The palace!¡± Damien shrugs, nonchalant. ¡°I have my ways.¡± ¡°Damien Nox.¡± He grins at her slyly, circling around her to collapse onto her study chair. ¡°Would you believe me if I told you that I work for the royal palace now?¡± Aster frowns. ¡°You? As if-¡° She pauses, the thought hitting her like an epiphany. ¡°No,¡± she says incredulously, because only so many miracles can occur in a single night. ¡°No way.¡± ¡°Oh, yes way,¡± Damien counters, like he can read her mind. His face is insufferably smug. ¡°You?¡± She can¡¯t keep the disbelief out of her voice. ¡°You¡¯re the royal mage¡¯s apprentice?¡± Damien claps. ¡°Correct! Someone get this girl a cookie!¡± A million thoughts are racing through Aster¡¯s head. She manages to settle on one. ¡°How did that even happen?¡± Damien doesn¡¯t bother to answer immediately. Instead, he beckons for her to come closer. Aster quirks an unamused eyebrow at him. But still she obliges, perching herself on the edge of her desk so she can face him. ¡°Well then,¡± Damien begins once she¡¯s settled. ¡°Where should I start?¡± Easy. ¡°Where did you go after leaving the estate?¡± She asks. It¡¯s only for a second, but Aster catches it anyway: the way his easygoing smile falters, flickering into something more desolate. He shrugs. ¡°Nowhere, really,¡± he says, expression smoothing out into his default lazy grin. ¡°After your old man kicked me out, I fell back on my old habits. You know, wandering around the woods, only dropping in on a town or village if I ran out of food. I didn¡¯t have a destination, really, much less a clue about where I was most of the time. I just¡­ kept walking.¡± The crackling of her fireplace reaches into the study, snapping away at the silence. Damien¡¯s face is untouched by its glow, features just barely limned by the light that peeks past his silhouette. ¡°Then one day,¡± he continues. ¡°While I was in some village to pick up supplies, I noticed a commotion in front of one of the buildings. You should¡¯ve seen the line streaming out the door, it¡¯s like the whole village was clamouring to see what was going on inside; people were literally pressing themselves against the windows, just so they could get a glimpse. Honestly, the whole thing felt a little bizarre, so I was itching to get my stuff and hightail it out of there. But just as I was passing by the building, I found myself freezing. It was faint, but I could sense it- traces of magic.¡± The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. Aster finds herself leaning in, completely hooked. ¡°So now, I had to see what¡¯s going on,¡± Damien continues wryly. ¡°But there¡¯s no way I was getting through that insane crowd. Not the normal way, at least." ¡°Ooh,¡± Aster cuts in. ¡°Let me guess, you turned into¡­ a lizard?¡± ¡°Oh, that could¡¯ve worked too actually. But no, I opted for a spider at that time.¡± ¡°Really? I¡¯m surprised you didn¡¯t get trampled on.¡± ¡°This is me we¡¯re talking about,¡± Damien scoffs, as Aster rolls her eyes. ¡°It''s going to take more than a measly crowd of people to do me in. But anyway, after I made my way past the crowd, I managed to trace the source of the magic to the person at the very front of the room. It was a guy, who seemed to be in the middle of some kind of presentation, so I crawled my way up the table he was standing behind to get a better look. Just as I''m about to get a glimpse of his face- BAM!" Damien slams a hand onto her desk. ¡°Someone¡¯s got their hand over me.¡± He clutches his hands towards himself, palms cupped together as if containing something within them. ¡°Oh my,¡± he imitates in a slightly nasally tone. ¡°Is that a spider? Poor dear, what¡¯s it doing here? Please excuse me while I free the poor little darling.¡± ¡°Han doesn¡¯t actually sound like that, does he?¡± Aster laughs. ¡°No,¡± says Damien. ¡°But let me have my fun.¡± Aster snorts as he falls back into character. ¡°Next thing I know,¡± he says, hands raised up to his face. ¡°I¡¯m being abducted into the backroom and uncovered, only for a man with the worst dye job I¡¯ve ever seen ogle my tiny insect body like a kid at a Founding Day bakery display. Holy Hale princess, you should¡¯ve seen the look on his face.¡± Damien wipes a palm over his features, like he wishes he could physically blot out the memory. ¡°His eyes were shining, princess. Shining. I¡¯d never seen anything more terrifying.¡± ¡°But it¡¯s Han! Your childhood hero!¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t know it was him then, I thought he was some kind of nutjob! All I could see was that beady little gleam in his eyes- the unadulterated fascination.¡± Damien shudders a little at the memory, before giving his head a firm shake. ¡°But anyway, I digress. After Han finally stopped eye raping me, only then did he bother to introduce himself. He told me that he knew I wasn¡¯t actually a spider, and demanded I turn human again so he could offer me a deal.¡± ¡°Let me guess, the deal was¡­ your apprenticeship?¡± ¡°Someone get this girl two cookies.¡± Damien presses his cheek into his palm, mouth curling into half a smile. ¡°Yes princess, my apprenticeship.¡± His gaze slips away from her, falling onto some point past her face. There¡¯s a lull before he speaks again. ¡°And well¡­ I¡¯ve been here ever since. I can¡¯t believe it¡¯s already been a year.¡± There¡¯s something both sad and wondrous about the way he says it. Aster thinks she can understand why. A year. Aster thinks back on the time she spent stuck within the walls of her family manor. A whole year of silence and cold. A whole year of counting down the days and pressing wishes into the palms of her hands; of remembering the mother she still mourned, the best friend she¡¯d missed, and the father she once had. Aster forces her voice to turn light. ¡°A year, huh,¡± she muses. She lifts her feet onto the desk, tucking them against her so she can wrap her arms around her knees. ¡°What was it like, learning from the royal mage for a whole year?¡± ¡°It was amazing.¡± Damien looks back at her with a grin. ¡°People can say what they want about Han, but no one knows magic better than him.¡± The look on his face falters. ¡°Still, it¡¯s not like they care about that. To most people, magic¡¯s just some scary, lurking thing that¡¯s bound to wreak havoc on their lives again. It doesn¡¯t matter that Han¡¯s only trying to help them.¡± Damien slumps back into his seat. ¡°Unless we change the public¡¯s perception, all the work we¡¯re doing for the magic tower is going to be moot.¡± Aster¡¯s brow furrows. ¡°Is public perception still so hostile? Even after all Han¡¯s done during the Crimson Fever outbreak?¡± Damien scoffs. ¡°It¡¯s going to take more than a miracle cure for him to win over the public. Especially after the Witch Trials.¡± Damien leans his head back, chin tipped to the ceiling. The sigh that leaves him is bone weary. ¡°We have our work cut out for us, that¡¯s for damn sure.¡± Aster takes in the tired slump of his shoulders, the faint shadows underscoring his eyes. ¡°When did you get back?¡± She asks. ¡°I heard that you and Han were out on some kind of expedition.¡± ¡°Ah, so you¡¯ve heard?¡± ¡°Yeah, Seraphina told me. But she said that she didn¡¯t know the specifics. What do you and Han get up to out there?¡± ¡°Nothing much really. Sometimes we venture into the cities, but mostly, we visit towns and villages in the outskirts. Y¡¯know, spreading knowledge about magic, checking up on the medic buildings, trying to convince people that we¡¯re totally not there to abduct their children or anything.¡± Damien shrugs. ¡°That doesn¡¯t sound like nothing much.¡± Damien shrugs. ¡°All in a day¡¯s work. As for when we got back¡­ I think it was about an hour ago? I haven¡¯t even unpacked yet.¡± Aster frowns. ¡°Hale, Damien, you should be resting. You could¡¯ve seen me tomorrow or something.¡± ¡°I mean yeah, but- I heard that you were here already and that you¡¯ve been around for a whole week. And well-¡° His gaze skitters away from hers. ¡°¡­I had to come.¡± His words leave Aster feeling warm, though her worry still hovers on the fringes. ¡°Anyway,¡± Damien says abruptly. ¡°That¡¯s enough about me. What about you, princess? How¡¯s the palace been treating you?¡± Chapter 12: A Dream is a Wish Pt. 2 For a second, Aster isn¡¯t sure of how to answer. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ nice. It¡¯s been nice! The queen was really welcoming when I arrived, and Seraphina ¨C my personal maid ¨C she¡¯s super accommodating, and she¡¯s helped me out a lot. I think I even managed to get closer to her in the past week!¡± ¡°Yeah? That¡¯s good.¡± The side of Damien¡¯s mouth pulls up. ¡°And what about Prince Charming? How was meeting him?¡± Like a puddle in the desert, the stream of words in Aster¡¯s head turns to vapor. Maybe it¡¯s because Damien¡¯s known about her engagement ever since they were kids, but admitting about what¡¯s happened since her first day in the palace feels harder than it should be. ¡°It was¡­¡± She says haltingly. If Damien finds her hesitance strange, he doesn¡¯t let it show. Instead he continues to look at her evenly, patient as he waits for her to continue. Aster sighs, a single breath weighted with all the words she¡¯s kept bottled up. ¡°I think¡­¡± she says, voice small. ¡°I think he hates me.¡± If Damien is shocked, it doesn¡¯t show on his face. ¡°Why would you think that?¡± He asks quietly. Aster¡¯s recount of her past week starts off slowly: her meeting with Flynn in the garden, his cutting words, the chill he¡¯d left her with. Gradually and gradually, like a dam close to bursting, her words escape her in a flood that turns into a torrent: his absence at breakfast the next day, the way he failed to show up to every other meal after, the fact that she hasn¡¯t seen so much of a hair on his head despite walking around the palace every single day. Once she¡¯s finished, only then does Aster register the way her hands are shaking. She clasps them together, hoping that Damien hasn¡¯t noticed. Damien looks contemplative, gaze going unfocused again. Finally, he sighs, a hand dragging down his face. ¡°I didn¡¯t think Flynn was the kind of guy to pull something like this. I¡¯m sorry, princess.¡± It¡¯s so weird that Aster has to scoff. ¡°Why are you apologising?¡± ¡°Well,¡± Damien shrugs. ¡°I¡¯ve spent enough time around your fianc¨¦ in the past year to think of him as a friend. Call it an apology on his behalf.¡± ¡°Are you two close?¡± Aster recalls the way he¡¯d used Florian¡¯s nickname. ¡°Close¡­¡± Damien lists his head to the side. ¡°Sorta? Unlike the rest of the palace, Flynn actually likes hanging out at the magic tower, so he¡¯s always there half the time. Since Han hates any kind of formality, we¡¯ve never given him special treatment whenever he comes around, so I guess that made it easier to get familiar.¡± Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. ¡°Huh.¡± Aster laces her fingers together and unlaces them. Lace, unlace. Lace, unlace. ¡°Then¡­ what¡¯s he like around you guys?¡± ¡°Flynn?¡± Aster nods. ¡°He¡¯s a total nerd.¡± That startles a laugh out of Aster. ¡°Really?¡± ¡°Really. It¡¯s the main reason why he and Han get along so well. They both get real passionate about stuff, sometimes to the point that it¡¯s almost scary,¡± Damien says wryly. ¡°If Flynn had even a drop of magic in him, I¡¯m sure Han would¡¯ve dropped me for him in a heartbeat.¡± ¡°He wouldn¡¯t.¡± Damien laughs. ¡°Okay, maybe not. I¡¯d give it a 50/50; I do have my uses after all.¡± He settles back in his seat languidly. ¡°But overall, from what I know about Flynn, I¡¯d say he¡¯s a decent guy.¡± ¡°Decent guys don¡¯t snub their fiances when they meet them after years of silence,¡± Aster mutters bitterly. ¡°And I¡¯m sure as Hale they don¡¯t skip out on breakfast just to avoid seeing them.¡± ¡°That¡¯s true too,¡± Damien concedes. His face seems to soften. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± ¡°Why¡¯re you apologising so much? It¡¯s weird.¡± ¡°But you were looking forward to seeing him again. Weren¡¯t you?¡± Her fingers lace together again; lace, lace, lace- tight enough for the tips of her fingers to turn red. She can¡¯t bring herself to look away. A finger taps on the back of her hand. When she looks up, she¡¯s immediately met with Damien¡¯s gaze. All of a sudden, she¡¯s overwhelmed by the urge to cry. She tamps down the feeling. When she speaks again, her voice is small. ¡°¡­How could I not look forward to seeing him?¡± The look on Damien¡¯s face is gentle.¡°You want me to talk to him?¡± He asks. ¡°Find out why he¡¯s been acting this way towards you?¡± Yes. No. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Aster says. ¡°I don¡¯t wanna drag you into anything.¡± ¡°Since when have you ever dragged me into anything?¡± Damien says wryly. ¡°Not once have I ever done anything in my life that I wasn¡¯t willing to do of my own volition.¡± ¡°Yeah, but¡­ what if he starts avoiding you too? Aren¡¯t you guys friends?¡± ¡°And aren¡¯t you my best friend? I¡¯d say in terms of rank, you far outstrip him.¡± It¡¯s so ridiculous that Aster has to laugh. ¡°You¡¯d better not let anyone hear you say that last part. Who knows what they¡¯d do to you?¡± ¡°Let them at me. I can handle it.¡± The look on his face is so stupidly cocksure that it has Aster cracking up even more. ¡°I mean it, Aster,¡± he says, with a certain kind of gravity. ¡°If it means ruining whatever kind of friendship I¡¯ve built with Flynn over the past year, I¡¯d gladly throw it away if it meant sticking up for you.¡± It¡¯s the truth. Aster knows, not just because he¡¯s resorted to using her actual name instead of the nickname he¡¯d pinned her with since they were kids. But because they¡¯ve been together far too long for Damien¡¯s words not to ring true. ¡°I know,¡± Aster says. Because if their roles had been reversed, if Damien was the one in her shoes, she¡¯d be saying the exact same thing to him too. ¡°Good.¡± She wonders if the way they are now is a testament to their friendship; the way a year-long eternity dwindles to nothing in the space of her study, feet tucked atop her desk as she watches the silver in Damien¡¯s ear glint in the firelight. ¡°I missed you.¡± Damien¡¯s eyebrows raise perceptibly, clearly not expecting that from her so out of the blue. But then his face softens, every sharp edge giving way to a single, fond smile. ¡°Glad to know I wasn¡¯t the only one.¡± Chapter 13: Her Majestea The next day, Aster finds herself summoned to the queen¡¯s personal sitting room right after breakfast. The room is tastefully decorated, with plush carpets and elaborately stitched tapestries depicting wildlife and flowers and constellations and spirits. The fire in the central hearth blazes merrily away, suffusing the air with a pleasant warmth. Just like the first time they met, Aster sits across from the queen and makes it a point to keep her back as straight as possible. ¡°How do you find the castle so far, Aster?¡± The queen asks cordially, dressed in an elegant dress the colour of wine. ¡°It¡¯s been lovely, Your Majesty. Everyone¡¯s so accommodating, and there¡¯s still so much of the palace I haven¡¯t seen yet. I¡¯m looking forward to seeing it all.¡± ¡°That¡¯s good to hear.¡± She smiles at Aster brightly, only for her expression to turn a notch dimmer. ¡°My dear, I¡¯m terribly sorry about Flynn¡¯s behaviour thus far. As his mother, I am absolutely appalled.¡± ¡°Please Your Majesty, you have nothing to be sorry for,¡± Aster says hurriedly. ¡°It¡¯s really not your fault.¡± ¡°Then please, take it as an apology on Flynn¡¯s behalf.¡± She places a hand on her cheek with a sigh. ¡°I don¡¯t understand why he¡¯s acting like this when he¡¯s betrothed to a girl as lovely as you. If only he¡¯d take a second to get to know you better.¡± ¡°Well, there¡¯s still a year to go until we¡¯re officially wed; and then the rest of our lives after that.¡± Aster forces herself to inject some cheer into her words. ¡°Plenty of time to get to know each other.¡± ¡°I suppose.¡± Queen Annaliese smiles faintly. ¡°I hope this isn¡¯t too much of me to ask, but I do hope that you can give Flynn some time. He¡¯s really an incredibly sweet boy by nature. It¡¯s just¡­ he seems to have changed a little, ever since his brother¡¯s passing.¡± Her Majesty¡¯s expression turns bittersweet at the mention of her late son. ¡°But I know that deep down, he¡¯s still the same gentle person that he¡¯s always been.¡± Aster¡¯s mind dredges up the image of Florian¡¯s frosty expression, words so cold they practically stung. ¡°Of course, Your Majesty.¡± She offers the queen her sweetest smile. ¡°I¡¯d like to get to know Prince Florian for the person he truly is deep down, as well.¡± The smile that she gets makes her partial lie worth it. ¡°Thank you, Aster,¡± Her Majesty says, brightening up. ¡°Right, I called you here for another reason as well, my dear. I¡¯d like to schedule tea with you every week.¡± ¡°Tea, Your Majesty?¡± ¡°Yes, tea!¡± She beams, clearly delighted by the mere thought of her favourite indulgence. ¡°Well, it wouldn¡¯t be just tea. We¡¯ll hold important conversations together at the same time of course, as well as discussions on various matters. I¡¯d like to make your assimilation into your role as future crown princess as smooth as possible, and I think there¡¯s much I can share with you about my own experiences. What do you say?¡± This was the last thing that Aster could have expected. ¡°I¡¯d be extremely honoured, Your Majesty,¡± she says, still mildly in shock. ¡°Thank you.¡± ¡°The pleasure is all mine, my dear,¡± the queen flutters, a literal ray of sun. Once more, Aster¡¯s brain spits out that memory of Florian: prickly, cold, distant, and tries to draw comparisons with the radiant, angelic being in front of her. Could it be true? Could Florian really share more with his mother than just their physical attributes? Did Damien¡¯s claims of him being a decent person actually hold water? The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. ¡°Really, I¡¯m so happy to have someone accompany me for tea,¡± Queen Annaliese continues, blissfully unaware of Aster¡¯s inner turmoil. ¡°Solomon and Flynn are always too busy, and Callista¡¯s been disappearing on her own often these days. Tea just tastes so much better with company.¡± Aster smiles back at her warmly. ¡°Your Majesty, I¡¯d gladly accompany you for tea anytime.¡± ????? On her way back from the queen¡¯s quarters, Aster only loses her bearings twice. Considering the sheer size of the palace, she considers even that a feat of its own. Now following what she¡¯s certain is the right way back to her room, Aster finds herself back at the walkway with the wall of portraits. She stops in the middle of the path, right in the centre where the largest of them are hung. The royal family stares back at her, King Solomon stone faced and solemn as he sits on a plush settee with Queen Annaliese by his side. The queen looks forwards with a serene smile on her face, her youngest daughter perched on her lap. Flanking the royal couple are the princes, Florian standing at attention by his mother¡¯s side while his brother Rael stands beside the king. It must have been painted before the Crimson Fever. It¡¯s the only way to explain Prince Rael¡¯s presence in the portrait. There¡¯s something inherently gentle about the late prince¡¯s expression; a sort of thoughtfulness on his face that belies a quiet strength. Aster thinks the artist who painted this must have been highly skilled, to be able to convey such subtleties through mere strokes of paint. The king¡¯s stoic air. Queen Annaliese¡¯s cheery warmth. The princess¡¯s sweet curiosity. Aster pauses on Florian¡¯s face, and almost snorts. He¡¯s barely smiling in the portrait, almost looking like he was forced to pose for the painting. But there¡¯s something about the Florian in the portrait, even with the stubborn set to his mouth and the childish steel in his eyes. Something that reminds her of the boy she¡¯d met six years ago, rather than the one she¡¯d recently stumbled into in the wrong garden at the wrong time. The sound of conversation floats over from the end of the walkway as Aster turns idly to see who it is. To her surprise, it¡¯s Damien. Damien, who¡¯s flanked by a pair of maids. In front of them float several baskets of laundry, clearly buoyed with the help of some handy magic. But the two girls accompanying Damien have their attentions elsewhere, perfectly entranced as they hang onto his every word. Aster can only imagine what he¡¯s prattling on about. A snippet of what he was up to away from the castle? Descriptions of the darling village children he educated with Han? An account of all the orphaned baby animals he¡¯s saved in his lifetime? Hale knows the kinds of nonsense that boy makes up on the daily. Her gaze flits towards Damien¡¯s face, and all of a sudden she¡¯s turning away hastily, an incredulous laugh threatening to sputter right out of her. Dear Hale, he¡¯s gotten way too good at this. Utterly winning. There¡¯s no other way to describe the smile that graces his features, perfectly practiced and dripping with charm; the picture perfect mask Aster¡¯s witnessed him fashion all throughout their childhood, now polished to a shine. She keeps her face turned away, attention seemingly caught on something on the floor below as the trio begin to approach. Their conversation lulls to a pause, the maids falling into a stilted silence once they notice Aster on the landing. They pass by her swiftly. Damien does not call out to her, nor does he make any indication of even noticing her there. Aster rests her palms on the banister and pretends to watch several servants below scuttle by in a hurry. Only when the trio has made it to the other end of the walkway does Aster dare to sneak another glance at their backs. She has to smother the the giggle that bubbles up in her throat. How funny. It''s amazing, what a year in the palace can do. She turns away, gaze trailing over the remaining portraits hanging on the wall. The first portrait in the row catches her attention: the very same one she''d noticed during her first morning in the palace. Of the twinkling man with golden hair and kind eyes. ¡°Sorry.¡± Aster startles as Damien¡¯s voice brushes against her ear, accompanied by the remnants of a breeze. It''s an old trick of his; using the wind to carry his voice. But after a year of growing used to his absence, hearing it now manages to take her by surprise. The second message breezes past her ear in seconds. ¡°Meet me in front of the east entrance in half an hour? It¡¯s the entrance closest to your quarters.¡± Like she could send him a response in return even if she wanted to. Aster scoffs to herself, turning away to make the trip back to her room. It seems like inspecting the rest of the paintings will have to wait for another day. Damien¡¯s lucky she¡¯s so accommodating. Chapter 14: How to (Not) Break a Curse She finds Seraphina dusting her study. ¡°My lady,¡± Seraphina greets as Aster closes the door behind her. ¡°How was your meeting with Her Majesty?¡± ¡°I think it went pretty well.¡± Aster flops onto her bed, scrabbling around before managing to grasp a pillow. She hugs it to herself, sitting up to tuck her chin into the down. ¡°She¡¯s such a lovely person.¡± ¡°Her Majesty?¡± Aster nods. After a moment, she says, ¡°Say Fina, what do you think makes a good queen?¡± Seraphina gives her a curious look. ¡°With all due respect, I don¡¯t think I¡¯m qualified to answer that sort of question, my lady.¡± ¡°That¡¯s fine. I just wanna know what you think.¡± Seraphina pauses in her dusting to ponder it over. ¡°Then¡­ someone who genuinely cares for the kingdom and its people, I suppose.¡± ¡°Boo. That¡¯s a boring answer.¡± Aster laughs at the flat look that Seraphina throws her way. ¡°What about grace? Beauty? The ability to play the piano while balancing ten hardcover books on your head?¡± ¡°I think someone who possesses all those traits is certainly very impressive,¡± Seraphina says, much too accustomed to Aster¡¯s brand of humour at this point. ¡°But personally, I think even those talents cannot outshine someone who is of good heart and sensibility.¡± She flashes Aster a hint of a smile. ¡°Still too boring, my lady?¡± Aster shakes her head good-naturedly. ¡°Nah. It¡¯s perfect- just the kind of answer I¡¯d expect from you.¡± Her gaze trails from Seraphina to the open windows. Belatedly, she notices that the candlestick she¡¯d dropped on the floor yesterday is now back on her study table. ¡°Say Fina,¡± she says. ¡°What do you know about the royal mage¡¯s apprentice?¡± ¡°Sir Damien? Why do you ask?¡± ¡°Well, I saw him while I was on the way back from my meeting with Queen Annaliese. He seemed to be very engrossed in a conversation with the maids.¡± Aster tries to keep her amusement out of her face as she recalls her encounter at the walkway. ¡°Well, what you see is what you get. Popular, sociable, helpful. Not a day goes by where I don¡¯t hear someone singing his praises.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t like him,¡± Aster says point-blank. Seraphina¡¯s as straight-faced as always, but there¡¯s something about the way she speaks about Damien; like she¡¯s wholly unimpressed. ¡°Compared to the rest of my peers, I must admit that I¡¯m not as fond of him.¡± ¡°Why not?¡± Seraphina¡¯s mouth seems to tighten at the corners. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ rather complicated, my lady.¡± Oh? Aster tries to keep a lid on her curiosity, even as she can feel it beginning to hook its crooked claws into her skin. Will Seraphina answer her honestly if she tries to pry further? Perhaps she will, if only to heed Aster¡¯s words as an order for her to follow. But that wouldn¡¯t sit right with Aster. Despite the distance between Seraphina and her growing closer over the past weeks, they¡¯ve never actually discussed anything too personal. Never talk beyond third parties or other matters or ¡®the friend of my colleague who¡¯s sister said this¡¯. Aster decides to let the matter go. ¡°I see,¡± she says easily. ¡°I¡¯m sure you have your reasons.¡± Seraphina ducks her head. ¡°I apologise, my lady.¡± ¡°Oh no, please don¡¯t apologise!¡± Aster waves her hands. ¡°You have nothing to be sorry for, Seraphina. Just because you serve me doesn¡¯t mean you¡¯re obligated to tell me everything that goes on in your life.¡± And before things can get awkward, Aster launches into an account of her meeting with the queen, teacakes and cookies and all. ????? After excusing herself from her room under the guise of a ¡®prior engagement¡¯, Aster makes her way to the east entrance. Damien¡¯s already there, leaning against a pillar by the entry as he waits for her. ¡°Hey there, stranger,¡± Aster says once she¡¯s in earshot. Damien looks up. ¡°Oh? Lady Vastein,¡± he says demurely, righting himself up to drop into a perfect half bow. Aster makes a face at him as he rises. ¡°Oh please.¡± The look on Damien¡¯s face is all innocence. ¡°Isn¡¯t that your title, my lady? I couldn¡¯t possibly address you with anything less than befitting of you.¡± ¡°Damien Nox, I will hurl on you.¡± He finally cracks a smile at that. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t want that now, would we?¡± He sets off down the path, slowing so Aster can fall into step with him. ¡°Sorry about earlier, by the way.¡± Aster shakes her head. ¡°Nah, it¡¯s fine. I know why you ignored me. It¡¯s not like the folks around here have warmed up to me much either; wouldn¡¯t want them to get the wrong idea about you.¡± Damien frowns. ¡°You know that¡¯s not why I did it.¡± Aster shrugs. ¡°It¡¯s still true, though. You already have enough on your plate as it is.¡± She can¡¯t keep the self-derision out of her tone as she says, ¡°The last thing you need is a rumor about you being overly acquainted with the cursed young lady from House Vastein.¡± Damien¡¯s frown only deepens. ¡°Aster-¡° ¡°I know what they say about me, Damien.¡± She sighs. ¡°How can I not?¡± Perhaps she is sheltered somewhat, thanks to all that time she¡¯s spent cooped up within the confines of the Vastein estate. But Aster is not blind, nor is she deaf. She knows what the whispers that follow her entail, can guess at the conclusions people draw up with a mere glance her way. Damien scrubs a hand through his hair. ¡°Alright, first of all, I¡¯m more worried about what my reputation could do to yours. Besides Han, no one else knows I used to live in the Vastein Estate. If I started being overly familiar with you, people wouldn''t hesitate to run their mouths. The last thing I want to do is kick off a rumour about you being unfaithful to your fianc¨¦- and with a witch at that.¡± Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more. ¡°You say witch like it¡¯s a bad thing,¡± says Aster. ¡°And you say cursed like it¡¯s actually true.¡± ¡°Touch¨¦.¡± She wrinkles her nose at Damien. After a week of touring the palace with Seraphina, the path they tread now is one that¡¯s familiar to her. A smattering of snow dusts the grass surrounding them, a vestige from the previous night¡¯s light snowfall. ¡°For the record,¡± says Aster. ¡°I¡¯ve never thought of witches being bad.¡± ¡°I know.¡± Damien sounds faintly amused. ¡°Actually, I¡¯ve always wanted to be a witch.¡± ¡°I know,¡± says Damien, a single word laden with exasperation. ¡°How could I not? You were so determined to be one that you almost broke your neck.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not like I was trying to do it on purpose!¡± ¡°Right, because that makes it so much better.¡± Damien ducks away from the elbow Aster jabs his way. Growing up for Aster was¡­ an ordeal. As soon as she was old enough to make sense of the world around her, she¡¯d found herself clutching at pieces of her life she never really knew what to make of. Why was the colour of her hair so different from her parents¡¯? Why did people look at her strangely whenever she ventured into town without her hood up? And why couldn¡¯t anyone else besides her see the spirits on the estate? In a time where nothing except her worst assumptions seemed to make sense, Aster decided that hiding away was the best solution. She became acquainted with every shadowy nook and hidden crevice within the estate, never daring to leave home without a cloak to cover the terrible frosty white of her hair. Her interactions with other people dwindled down to a small, trusted circle: her father, her mother, and her personal maid. Then Damien appeared. Damien, who arrived in the form of a scraggly, fever-ridden cat; who turned out to be the snappiest, brattiest boy she¡¯d ever have the pleasure of meeting. There was something about Damien that drew Aster in, like a gust of cool wind in the summer heat. Something about this boy with his fortress-like guard and his constantly raised hackles. Maybe it¡¯s because he was the first. The first person who looked past her appearance and dared to pick fights with her at every chance he got. The first person who introduced her to her first brush with a different kind of magic; warm and curious, instead of sharp and hostile. The first person who she could safely call her closest confidante, somewhere down the line of their endless bickering and Aster¡¯s dogged persistence at bringing his walls down. ¡°Cursed?¡± He¡¯d echoed confusedly the first time Aster had brought it up to him, high up in the branches of the oldest maple tree on the Vastein grounds. ¡°What in Hale are you talking about? You¡¯re not cursed. If you were, I¡¯d be able to tell.¡± Aster laced her fingers together. ¡°But¡­ then why¡¯s my hair so weird?¡± Damien snorted. ¡°That¡¯s not a curse you dummy. You¡¯re just malnourished.¡± Aster had squawked in protest while he cackled, their voices carried away by the wind. ¡°Imagine thinking you¡¯re cursed just because your hair¡¯s white. What an idiot.¡± ¡°But people are always staring at me!¡± ¡°You¡¯re Aspen Vastein¡¯s precious first daughter, of course they¡¯re gonna stare.¡± ¡°And-And I can see the spirits!¡± ¡°So what? I can see the little runts too, you¡¯re not special.¡± Aster huffed. ¡°But you have magic!¡± ¡°You could too, you know.¡± Damien, who¡¯d been idly flicking through one of Aster¡¯s fairytales, failed to catch the way her face lit up with desperate hope. ¡°Me? I¡­ I could be a witch?¡± Damien snorted. ¡°You say that like it¡¯s a good thing.¡± ¡°It is! It means¡­ I¡¯m not cursed!¡± ¡°You were never cursed, princess. Get that into your head already.¡± But Aster was only half-hearing, mind already racing with possibilities. ¡°If I¡¯m a witch, that means¡­ I can do what you can!¡± ¡°Hey now, let¡¯s not get ahead of ourselves. Not to toot my own horn, but I¡¯m pretty gifted for my age.¡± Aster stuck her tongue out rudely at him. ¡°How would you know, you¡¯ve never been around other witches.¡± ¡°Well I know more than you, that¡¯s for sure.¡± Aster pulled a face. Look at him getting all cocky, just because he¡¯s a little good at magic. She could be just as good as him! No, better. Because in that moment, it all made sense to her. If she wasn¡¯t cursed, then she had to be magic. It would explain so many things: like why she could see the spirits and why they were so mean to her, and why her hair was such a strange colour. But¡­ if she really was a witch, then why hadn¡¯t her magic come to her yet? Why couldn¡¯t she control the wind like Damien could, or turn into animals just like him? Was she just a slow learner? Would she have to wait? She didn¡¯t want to wait. She was tired of waiting. Tired of hiding. She wanted her magic now. Damien¡¯s attention was still fixed on the storybook, gaze flitting idly over the pages. By the time he¡¯d bothered to look up, Aster had already gotten to her feet, swaying slightly as she balanced precariously on the maple branch. ¡°What¡¯re you doing?¡± Damien frowned. ¡°Keep that up and you¡¯re gonna fall.¡± But Aster barely heard him. ¡°I can¡¯t wait around for my magic to come,¡± she murmured, gaze latching onto the ground below. ¡°If it won¡¯t come to me, then I¡¯ll make it come.¡± That¡¯s the way it worked in the stories, right? The protagonist always managing to unlock their hidden potential, whenever they needed it most. Aster could do it too. All she needed was a leap of faith. ¡°Princess-¡° A single step and Aster was falling, air rushing past her as she hurtled towards the ground. And all the while she¡¯s trying, willing, wishing for something to surge up within her, for the magic to course through her veins and save her from shattering her skull against the earth. Instead, what she felt was a tight grip clutch around her middle, jerking her back as she¡¯s suspended mid-fall. ¡°You idiot!¡± Damien seethed, arms wrapped around her torso. ¡°What in Hale were you thinking?!¡± ¡°Let go of me!¡± Aster wriggled furiously against his grip. Why was he getting in her way? How was she supposed to summon her magic now? ¡°Stop struggling you dolt, it¡¯s hard enough for me to keep myself afloat, now I have you as extra weight-!¡° They dropped abruptly through the air, a string of curses streaming from Damien¡¯s mouth as Aster screwed her eyes shut. Now! She could do it, she could save them- They jerked to a stop, frozen in the air. Aster blinked her eyes wide open. Below her was the ground, only a mere scant inches away from her nose. Did she do it? Was she the one who kept them from- The ground surged up, welcoming her face-first. ¡°Oh shit-¡° Damien scrambled off of her, helping her sit up so he could check for injuries. ¡°Shit, sorry, I couldn¡¯t hold on for any longer and I just barely kept us from turning into pancakes on the ground and- wait, why am I apologising? You idiot, why would you think that throwing yourself off a tree would make you a witch?! Have you so little regard for your own life that-¡° He froze, shocked into silence by the stream of tears coursing down Aster¡¯s face. ¡°A-Aster?¡± He ventures hesitantly. ¡°What¡¯s wrong? Did you get hurt? Are you bleeding?¡± Aster shook her head. ¡°No¡­ No, I-¡° But she was unable to continue, words breaking off into hiccups. Suddenly she was bawling, sobbing so hard that her shoulders shook with each breath. How could she explain that it was more than just her bruised nose or her stinging cheeks? That what hurt more than the scrapes on her palms, was the cold hard truth. Aster wasn¡¯t magic. And maybe she¡¯d never be. It had been a hard pill to swallow at first; to clutch at her puzzle pieces and realise that she still didn¡¯t know how to fit them together. But her fall through the sky made her realise something else: she wasn¡¯t alone anymore. Because now, she had Damien. She turns towards him now, gaze catching on the side of his profile. ¡°Like what you see?¡± His eyes slide towards her, smile turning lopsided. ¡°Ew.¡± He laughs as Aster wrinkles her nose at him. ¡°Then what is it?¡± ¡°Well, it just occurred to me- even though you were so worried just now, isn¡¯t it bad for us to be seen together like this?¡± Chapter 15: Magic in the Air Damien shrugs back at her easily. ¡°It¡¯s fine. If anyone asks, I¡¯ll say that I¡¯m taking you on a tour around the magic tower, courtesy of Han.¡± ¡°Are we actually going to the magic tower though?¡± ¡°Yep.¡± Damien¡¯s expression turns amused, taking in the way Aster instantly brightens up. ¡°I figured it was the first thing you¡¯d want me to show you.¡± ¡°You know me too well, Sir Apprentice.¡± She grins, pointing towards her left ear. ¡°By the way, I like the earrings.¡± She¡¯d noticed them last night; the small silver ring and shining violet stud glittering in Damien¡¯s left ear lobe. ¡°Thanks,¡± says Damien. ¡°Makes the blood and tears worth it.¡± ¡°You cried?¡± ¡°Just a tear. Or maybe two. Yeah, yeah laugh it up,¡± Damien says dryly as Aster does exactly that. ¡°You¡¯re lucky you had your ears pierced when you were a baby. Shit hurts to Hale.¡± ¡°I¡¯m surprised you even got piercings. Never thought you were interested.¡± ¡°You¡¯re right; I wasn¡¯t. But then Han wouldn¡¯t stop bugging me about it. So eventually I gave in, only to end up with two left piercings and an ear infection that lasted three months.¡± Damien winces at the memory. ¡°But anyway, I see that I¡¯m not the only one who¡¯s changed up their look.¡± He taps his collarbone. ¡°You¡¯re not wearing it anymore. Your mom¡¯s necklace.¡± Aster¡¯s hand flies up to her throat subconsciously. ¡°Ah. Yeah, the chain broke in the carriage while I was on my way to the palace. I haven¡¯t had a chance to find a way to fix it.¡± ¡°That sucks.¡± Damien frowns. ¡°Feels weird to see you without it.¡± ¡°Feels weird to be without it,¡± Aster agrees. ¡°If you haven¡¯t found anyone to fix it yet, you can always pass it to me.¡± Aster raises a surprised eyebrow at him. ¡°You know how to fix lockets?¡± ¡°¡¯Course I don¡¯t. But Han sends me on errands to town pretty often. It¡¯d be easy enough to find someone who can fix your necklace for you.¡± ¡°Then I¡¯ll gladly take you up on your offer.¡± Aster beams at him. ¡°Thanks, Damien.¡± ¡°Anytime, Lady Vastein.¡± Before Aster can protest the use of her title again, they pass by the gardens, where a middle-aged man is tending to the rosebushes. Beside him is a younger boy with rosy cheeks. ¡°Mornin¡¯ Chev, Puff,¡± Damien greets cheerily. You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. ¡°Hiya Damien! Morning!¡± The boy calls, while his mentor nods Damien¡¯s way. As they make their way to the magic tower, a similar pattern occurs with every person they meet. Damien never fails to greet every single one of them, whether it¡¯s the scholarly looking man with a stack of files clutched to his chest or the young girl hefting a basket wrapped in checkered cloth, Damien never fails to greet every person they pass by. A wave, a wink, a chirpy hello! The response he gets in turn is just as warm. ¡°Back to your old tactics I see,¡± Aster teases once no one else in sight. ¡°If it works, it works.¡± Damien shrugs gamely back at her. ¡°Someone¡¯s gotta do the people pleasing; me namely, because Han is the exact opposite of damage control. But it¡¯s fine. I¡¯ve had plenty of practice back at the estate.¡± ¡°Ah yes, your sure-fire method of helping the maids with the laundry. A timeless classic.¡± ¡°It hasn¡¯t failed me yet,¡± Damien agrees, grinning at her crookedly. Aster rolls her eyes. As he leads her past another turn, Aster finds herself slowing her steps. The path beneath their feet is white paved stone, just like most of the other paths on the palace grounds. But unlike the rest, this path is inlaid with sections of glass-tiled mosaics. A sliver of shining sun. Waves of turquoise and emerald sea. Geometrical patterns made of gleaming obsidian and glittering violet squares. ¡°Pretty, isn¡¯t it?¡± Damien says, picking up on her wonder. ¡°Almost makes the near heart attack Han gave the financial advisor worth it.¡± ¡°Was it pricey?¡± ¡°It was, but Han footed the bill for the mosaic work himself.¡± Damien stops to point at one of the art fixtures: a swirling torrent of triangles in every imaginable shade of blue. ¡°Have you noticed how the edges of all the mosaics are cracked? Almost as if they¡¯re there to fill in breaks in the path?¡± Aster nods. ¡°Well that¡¯s because they are. Han literally busted the path himself once it was first finished, just so he could fill out the cracks like this. Claims that it makes everything look more organic.¡± ¡°I¡­ see.¡± Aster casts a long look at the mosaic-laden path. She isn¡¯t sure about organic, but she has to admit that the effect is rather charming. ¡°Pretty sure ol¡¯ Heathrick was about to burst a vein when he saw Han going to town with his pickaxe.¡± Damien whistles, sounding as amused as he looks. ¡°Something tells me that breaking castle property for aesthetic purposes isn¡¯t the most groundbreaking thing your mentor¡¯s done.¡± ¡°You¡¯re absolutely right,¡± Damien agrees without pause. ¡°Tells you a lot about the kind of education I¡¯ve been receiving.¡± As they continue down the path, a faintly sweet scent begins to waft towards them. Her feet stutter to a halt on their own as the entrance to the tower appears into view. For one breathless moment, Aster looks up, taking a second to marvel at the entirety of the building. The magic tower is a magnificent spiralling thing, made of shining white stone capped with glittering blue tiles. From here she can just barely make out the faint imprint of runes and symbols embedded in the tower¡¯s walls, their patterns seeming to continuously shift before she can take a proper look. Ivy creeps over the walls, accentuating rather than obscuring, the perfect backdrop to the medley of flowers on full display. Morning glories hang their trumpet shaped blooms to relish in the winter sun while wisteria creeps from arched windows, dripping their lavender petals down the overhang. Along the walls near the entrance is an intricate lattice of brilliant red roses, the perfume of their lush flowers beckoning visitors closer. ¡°Magic?¡± Aster guesses. It¡¯s the only explanation for how these flowers could bloom so beautifully in the middle of winter. ¡°Magic,¡± Damien confirms. ¡°But it¡¯s also just Han showing off. Plant magic is something of his forte.¡± ¡°I see.¡± She hasn¡¯t even taken a step inside yet, but it¡¯s as if the mere air surrounding them is already saturated with it. Magic. She can¡¯t help but feel giddy. As if picking up on this, Damien turns to her with a grin. ¡°Come along, princess. The tour¡¯s just begun.¡± Chapter 16: Exploding Chicken What greets her inside the magic tower is a mess. But Aster¡¯s never seen a mess as curious or fantastical as this one. Damien leads her past tables laden with oddities and piles of half assembled machinery. An incomplete map hangs from the edge of one table, illustrations so detailed and elaborate it seems like the seas depicted on it are rolling across the parchment in inky waves. On another table, a metallic hand peeks out from a mess of wires and a poorly arranged tarp, its pinky finger missing. A corner of the room seems reserved for what looks to be discarded items, among them being a shattered silver mirror, a bronze bull head, and a mishappen bird cage. As they approach the spiralling staircase at the centre of the room, Aster reaches out to brush her fingers against the downy feathers of a proud stuffed cockerel. With its luminous jewel-toned feathers and sparkling eyes, it almost seemed alive. ¡°Don¡¯t!¡± Aster stops, turning to look at Damien quizzically. ¡°Exploding chicken,¡± he explains. ¡°Exploding what?¡± ¡°Exploding chicken,¡± he repeats. ¡°Trust me, you don¡¯t want to be another one of Henry¡¯s victims.¡± There¡¯s too much in that sentence for Aster to unpack all at once. ¡°¡­The chicken has a name,¡± she ends up saying. ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Henry. Henry the Exploding Chicken.¡± ¡°¡­Yes.¡± ¡°You guys cook up an exploding chicken and the best you can do is name it Henry?¡± ¡°The name is what bothers you?!¡± ¡°Damien, your mentor¡¯s supposed to be the magical boy wonder who not only whipped up the cure for the Crimson Fever-¡± Aster begins to count off her fingers. ¡°-but he also broke apart palace property for the sake of aesthetic, and kidnapped you while you were incognito just so he could recruit you as his apprentice. If the least he can¡¯t do is concoct an exploding chicken, then I will be sorely disappointed.¡± She sniffs. ¡°Horrible naming sense, though.¡± Damien looks at her, stunned. Suddenly, he bursts into laughter. ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± he snickers, gesturing her forwards. ¡°You¡¯re absolutely right. What¡¯s an exploding chicken, but a drop in a bucket of all the usual chaos he cooks up?¡± As Damien leads her up the stairs, he points out each floor and its respective rooms as they pass by. Library, Han¡¯s quarters, his quarters, kitchen, more junk that Han broke that they haven¡¯t figured out how to deal with yet, storage room, crafting area, greenhouse, spare bedrooms- ¡°Spare bedrooms?¡± Aster has to ask. ¡°What for? I thought you guys don¡¯t really have guests over.¡± ¡°That¡¯s true,¡± Damien agrees, stopping to lean against the banister languidly. ¡°But these rooms aren¡¯t supposed to serve as guestrooms.¡± Before Aster can hound him for more details, he reaches up to yank on a string hanging from the ceiling. A hidden panel above unfolds to reveal a flight of wooden stairs, leading them to the topmost floor. The second they emerge from the passage, Aster is bombarded by sunlight. The space is flooded with it, tall arching windows welcoming the sun to illuminate every shining glass vial and crystal beaker. While some receptacles stand empty, others are filled with a slew of varying substances, from multi-coloured liquids and crystalline grains, to vibrant powders and stoppered vapours. Aster watches as dozens of tiny translucent snails trail their way up the inside of a glass jar, a mass of jelly-like slime resting at the bottom. Once the snails reach the top, they cling onto the jar¡¯s lid, slowly dripping off like drops of dew splattering into the goo below. Amidst the countless vials and ingredients, as if vying for what little precious space is left, are every kind of plant. Feathery ferns and curling leaves poke out from corners while bundles of herbs and dried flowers hang from the rafters, turning the ceiling into a hanging garden. In the middle of it all, is a man with a shock of fluorescent green hair, his back turned to them as he leans over the room¡¯s central table. A ceramic pot sporting blue roses sits on the edge of its surface, flowers in full bloom. Aster watches as the man brushes his fingers tenderly over the petals of one of the flowers, before he raises a pair of shears to its stalk. This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. ¡°Han,¡± Damien calls. ¡°I brought company.¡± ¡°Hm?¡± The shears shut with a sharp snick, effectively severing the rose bud. Han¡¯s back is still turned to them as his hand closes over the flower. ¡°Yeah, yeah, tell Flynn I missed him too.¡± ¡°Han,¡± says Damien. ¡°I didn¡¯t bring Flynn with me.¡± ¡°Right, and every other person in this castle is just dying to pop in for a visit,¡± Han says dispassionately, as he meanders over towards the other side of the table. A small glass cauldron bubbles over a contained fire, flames licking against the sides of the bowl. Han holds his rose over the cauldron as he peels off a single petal. ¡°No seriously, Han. Look.¡± Han looks. ¡°Oh,¡± he says, eyes widening by a fraction as he takes in the sight of Aster beside Damien. ¡°Actual company.¡± And the room explodes in a cloud of roses. Aster claps her hands over her nose, her eyes watering at the sudden wave of perfume that suffuses the room. Aster loves flowers as much as any other person would, but this ¨C the scent of roses so thick, it practically claws down her throat ¨C would make anyone¡¯s head spin. ¡°Bloody Hale- Han!¡± Damien chokes out, before erupting with a violent sneeze. ¡°Sorry, sorry, dropped the wrong one.¡± Han coughs, holding up a single rose petal as explanation. ¡°Damien, if you don¡¯t mind.¡± ¡°Yeah, yeah, on-¡° Damien lurches as another violent sneeze leaves his body. ¡±-it.¡± He lifts his free hand. A gust of wind blows in through the wide windows, the breeze ruffling Aster¡¯s hair as Han¡¯s plants rustle shakily from their perches. A single swooping gesture from Damien sends the air wooshing past her, blowing across the room and right out the adjacent windows. Han slams a lid over the cauldron as the last of the gale breezes out of the room, taking with it the cloying stink of roses. ¡°Good work Damien.¡± Damien waves away Han¡¯s thanks, nose still crinkled like he¡¯s holding back another sneeze. ¡°Why in- achoo!¡± He sniffs, rubbing a hand over his nose. ¡°Why in Hale are you making perfume?¡± ¡°No reason.¡± Han shrugs, snapping a metal cap over the fire. ¡°I didn¡¯t quite know what to do with all the roses that I got from my last project, so I thought I could do something fun with them. It seems I¡¯ve gravely misjudged their potency; but I suppose that¡¯s Lucre roses for you - a little goes a long way.¡± ¡°Yeah, and too much will have you gagging for air.¡± Damien shoots a dirty look at the remaining roses still blooming in their pot. Han grins. ¡°But look at how blue they are Damien!¡± He brandishes the rose pot towards him. ¡°Aren¡¯t they beautiful? Piff did such a wonderful job at caring for them while I was gone.¡± ¡°Yeah, yeah, I get it, so get those things away-¡° Han shoves the flowers into his face. ¡°You don¡¯t understand, Damien! For so long, blue roses have been nothing but a sought after myth. A mere castle upon a cloud. But behold: this luscious blue sheen; these velvet-like petals! I have turned the dreams of florists into a reality!¡± Damien recoils dramatically, ducking behind Aster to shield himself from Han¡¯s enthusiastic assault. ¡°Blue or not, they¡¯re still Lucre roses,¡± Damien spits. ¡°Bloody awful things.¡± ¡°I thought you liked roses,¡± says Aster. ¡°Oh, he¡¯s fine with roses. He just hates this variant.¡± Han sets the roses back onto the table, before turning back to Aster with a winning smile. ¡°But never mind him. For starters, I¡¯m sorry for giving you such a poor welcome, Lady Vastein.¡± ¡°How did-¡° ¡°How did I know it was you?¡± Han raises an eyebrow. ¡°Your reputation precedes you, Aster.¡± He winks. ¡°It¡¯s something we have in common.¡± Usually, any mention of her reputation would leave anxiety gnawing in the pit of her stomach, her thoughts racing against each other in her head. But instead of any of that much to her surprise, Aster only feels humoured. ¡°Also, I¡¯ve heard enough stories from Damien about his time in the Vastein residence. Naturally, you featured in a great many of them.¡± Right, Damien had mentioned earlier about Han knowing of their shared past. ¡°Although-¡° Han grasps his chin between his fingers, contemplative. ¡°You¡¯ve always been paranoid Damien, so I understand why you¡¯re so cautious about people finding out about you and Aster; but I still don¡¯t understand why you¡¯ve kept your history with the Vasteins a secret from Flynn all this time.¡± Damien shrugs plainly. ¡°I just¡­ figured he wouldn¡¯t take it too well.¡± Han settles on the edge of the central table. ¡°Really?¡± He muses, head cocked to the side. It¡¯s only a matter of seconds before an amused smile begins creep over his face. ¡°Scared he¡¯d get mad at you for hogging his fianc¨¦ all this time?¡± ¡°As if,¡± Damien scoffs, as Aster finds herself cringing subconsciously. Florian? Jealous? When he never bothered to respond to her letters? When he hasn¡¯t even shown his face a second time since the day she arrived? Just the thought of it is laughable. ¡°Then why-¡° The sound of hurried footsteps echo up the stairwell, cutting off the rest of Han¡¯s words. Aster thinks she sees Damien go pale. ¡°Oh shi-¡° ¡°Hey guys!¡± Florian Klars emerges from the passage, expression so bright that Aster barely makes the connection between the smiling face in front of her and the prick who¡¯d given her the cold shoulder all those nights ago. He beams as he faces Han, turning to look at Damien. ¡°I heard you got back yesterday, and-¡° He freezes, gaze falling onto Aster. The smile on his face drops in an instant, expression replaced by utter shock. Aster resists the urge to duck behind Damien. ¡°You-¡° Florian sputters finally. ¡°What are you doing here?¡± Chapter 17: On Your Side Aster¡¯s tongue is a lump of clay in her mouth. She swallows. ¡°I-I¡¯m visiting,¡± she finally manages to get out. Florian¡¯s initial shock has abated, hardening into that familiar frost. ¡°Let me guess, sightseeing?¡± He sneers. Warmth shoots through Aster¡¯s cheeks. Suddenly, the floor feels a lot easier to look at compared to Florian¡¯s flinty gaze. ¡°If she¡¯s sightseeing, then we¡¯re more than happy to have her,¡± Han chirps, seemingly unaffected by the tension in the air. ¡°It¡¯s so nice to have a new face around this tower; having to see only both of your boring old mugs day after day gets awfully droll after a while.¡± ¡°You think I¡¯m not tired of seeing your face?¡± Says Damien. ¡°I had to watch you drool in your sleeping bag for the past month.¡± ¡°And I had to withstand your endless thrashing and sleep talking,¡± Han quips. ¡°That aside,¡± he declares, clapping his hands together. ¡°I think it¡¯s time we give Aster a well-deserved tour of this esteemed tower. Flynn would you be a dear and give Damien a hand? You¡¯re around so often that you¡¯re practically one of us.¡± ¡°Yeah.¡± Damien nods. ¡°Join us Flynn, it¡¯ll be fun.¡± No, no it will not be very fun. Aster suppresses a flinch as the weight of Florian¡¯s gaze seems to press extra heavily upon her, before finally shifting away. ¡°Thanks,¡± says Florian tonelessly. ¡°But I¡¯ll pass. Maybe I¡¯ll come by later; seems like I chose the wrong time to visit.¡± He turns away, footfall heavy on the stairway as he descends from the room. Even once he¡¯s gone, no one speaks; as if no one quite knows what to do with the silence. ¡°Well,¡± Han says finally, the first to break the quiet. ¡°That was interesting.¡± Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Aster draws in a breath, finally able to breathe. With the chill of Florian¡¯s presence now gone, warmth begins to prickle up her neck, red hot with shame. It¡¯s one thing for her to divulge the details of her failing engagement to Damien herself, wrapped in the safety of her room and Damien¡¯s easy company. But to have Florian prove it in the flesh- not only in front of Damien, but Han too? When she¡¯d only just met him? Aster doesn¡¯t know what face she should make. ¡°Hey.¡± Damien¡¯s voice breaks her out of her stupor. ¡°Are you okay?¡± Aster nods dumbly. ¡°Yeah. Yeah, I-¡° Her throat feels scratchy all of a sudden, and she has to cough. ¡°-I¡¯m fine. Don¡¯t worry about it.¡± Damien looks unconvinced. But he doesn¡¯t try to push it any further. Wood scrapes against the tiles as Han pulls out a seat from one of the tables. He gestures for Aster to take it. ¡°Thank you,¡± she says sheepishly. ¡°And¡­ I¡¯m sorry.¡± Han seems surprised. ¡°Whatever for?¡± ¡°For making you witness all¡­ that. With Florian earlier.¡± For a second, every sharp edge on Han¡¯s face seems to soften. ¡°Clearly, I don¡¯t know what¡¯s going on between the two of you, and I won¡¯t pry. But for what it¡¯s worth, you have nothing to be sorry for, Aster.¡± He smiles then, a glimmer of that sparkling mischief. ¡°But if I may say as much, it¡¯s the first time I¡¯ve seen Flynn act out like that. Rather refreshing, I have to admit. It just goes to show that prince or not, boys will be brats wherever you go.¡± Aster musters a small smile. ¡°Maybe so.¡± ¡°Maybe so? Oh no, it¡¯s definitely so. Here I present, exhibit B!¡± Han thrusts a finger in Damien¡¯s direction. Damien quirks an unamused eyebrow. ¡°Excuse me?¡± ¡°You agree, don¡¯t you Aster?¡± Says Han, as Aster smothers a laugh. ¡°Well¡­¡± ¡°Et tu, princess?¡± Aster laughs properly. ¡°Okay, I don¡¯t know about now, but if we¡¯re talking about when we were kids¡­¡± Han gasps in delight. ¡°What¡¯s this? Tales from Damien¡¯s troubled past?¡± ¡°Hold it right there-¡° ¡°Should I tell you about the early days, when Damien first started living with us?¡± Says Aster. ¡°He gave the staff so much trouble.¡± ¡°I did not.¡± ¡°Did too.¡± ¡°Damien said you didn¡¯t get along at first,¡± says Han, eyes practically glowing with mirth. ¡°Is that true?¡± ¡°It is.¡± As Aster recounts fonder days over the sound of Damien¡¯s constant protests and Han¡¯s musical laughter, she finds herself warm once more. The ice in her veins lingers no longer, thawed in the sunlight that floods the room. Chapter 18: Into the Thick of It Aster¡¯s late. Scratch that, she is very late. The usual glances she receives from the palace staff have turned into all-out staring as Aster rushes past, too harried to worry about their gazes as she books it to the queen¡¯s quarters. She¡¯ll worry about what they have to say about her hiked skirts or the scandalous flash of her bare ankles afterwards. After she¡¯s made it to the queen¡¯s sitting room in time. After she¡¯s explained her reason for being abhorrently late to her promised session of tea with Her Majesty. Aster could kick herself. She ought to kick herself. She¡¯s always had a tendency to lose track of time whenever preoccupied, but she really should¡¯ve known better. She¡¯d been whiling away time at the magic tower again, something that¡¯s become almost routine of her ever since her first visit to the tower with Damien. It¡¯s the most fun she¡¯s had in the palace since she first arrived, sitting in on Han as he works on his projects and launches into tangent after tangent, Aster more than happy to listen to him go on and on. Damien isn¡¯t around the tower as much as Aster thought he would be, but he always manages to pop in at least once before Aster leaves for the day. The only qualm that Aster actually has against the magic tower is how time always manages to run away from her if she isn¡¯t paying attention. Now, she flies past a corner, paying for the price of her carelessness as she just barely avoids colliding with a pair of broom wielding maids. They watch her flee with wide eyes, certain to spread word of the spectacle Aster must be making of herself. If only the queen¡¯s quarters weren¡¯t so far away from the magic tower, she fumes inwardly as she hurries along. If only there was some kind of shortcut! A flash of green has Aster faltering in her mad dash. She skids to a stop. Shuffles back a few paces. Several paces away from the corridor she¡¯s standing in, is a tall row of hedges. ¡°There¡¯s a rumor passed around the servants,¡± Seraphina¡¯s voice echoes in her mind. About how the maze helps out those who are in a hurry and have places to be.¡± She doesn¡¯t spare herself a second to think. Aster hurries off the path to stand before the maze, anxiety rolling off her in waves. She clasps her hands together desperately. Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. Oh Hale, this better work. ¡°Uh, Mr Maze?¡± She begins. ¡°Unless¡­ you¡¯re a Mrs Maze?¡± Silence. ¡°Right, not so important at the moment,¡± she mutters to herself. ¡°Oh Honourable Maze,¡± she tries again. ¡°Would you please do me the utmost favour of cutting me a shortcut to the queen¡¯s quarters? Pretty, pretty, please? You see, I¡¯m really, terribly late and I-¡° To Aster¡¯s amazement, the hedge before her begins to open up. She watches in awe as the shrubbery retreats, branches curling away to form a small hole just big enough for her to squeeze through. I can¡¯t believe that actually worked. ¡°Thank you!¡± She manages to squeak out. She plunges into the maze, shrubbery tickling her face as she squeezes through the hole. Once inside, she swipes at her hair absently, brushing any stray leaves from her hair as she swivels around to survey her surroundings. The path to her right is obscured by a wall of green, leaving her with only one road to take. Aster heads left, sparing a glance behind her as she leaves. The hole in the maze is no longer there, not a trace of it left in what is now a perfectly intact hedge. Good, no one can see her now. Aster turns forwards with a grin, clutching her skirts as she hikes them all the way up to her calves. She takes off down the path gleefully, sprinting at full speed. The path continues straight for a good while, sloping at times and even veering off in different directions at others. But not once does it lead to a split in the path or even a crossroads. Aster takes it as a good sign; an indication that the maze truly is cutting the shortest path for her to take. At this rate, she¡¯ll reach the queen¡¯s quarters in no time! ¡°Your Highness.¡± She startles, pausing in her stride to whirl around. But a quick survey of her surroundings shows there¡¯s no one else but her in the maze. ¡°I thought I told you not to call me that.¡± Or so she¡¯d thought. Aster shakes her head, turning forwards once more. She didn¡¯t have time to eavesdrop on people¡¯s secret conversations- not when she had places to be. ¡°It¡¯s just Flynn when you¡¯re with me.¡± She freezes. ¡°I¡¯ve missed you,¡± the voice continues, and it takes Aster a moment to ascertain that she hadn¡¯t heard wrong. That the speaker really is Florian, even if the cadence in his tone feels entirely out of place. Sugary sweet, with none of the frost or flint that Aster¡¯s grown accustomed to receiving from him. Carefully, she presses herself against the wall to her left, where the conversation seemed to be coming from. ¡°I¡¯ve missed you too,¡± she hears another voice say. Shy and sweet, and just the tiniest bit hesitant. And¡­ Female. Aster¡¯s head goes blank. Her thoughts come seconds later, catching up to her shock. Florian¡¯s been meeting a girl in the maze. Someone he cares about enough to miss. Someone he cares about enough to sneak around just to see. Blearily, she notices a small hole in the wall, just big enough for her to peek out of. Every self-preserving bone in her body is screaming; that there will be no coming back from what she will see, whatever is on the other side only serving to hammer in the final nail in her proverbial coffin. Aster leans down, and peeks through the hole. Chapter 19: Broken Hearts Club The first thing she sees is a flash of blonde hair, followed by a familiar blue grey pinafore. The same one that Seraphina and the other maids in the palace don. No matter how much she tries to shift, she¡¯s unable to catch a glimpse of the girl¡¯s face, her back turned towards Aster. And then she sees Flynn. The sight of him makes her breath catch in her throat. Because she¡¯s never seen him like that. Never with his eyes bright and his face soft, the dimple at the side of his mouth deepening as he smiles. Like he¡¯s basking in the warmth of the morning sun. Like he couldn¡¯t look away from this girl even if he tried. Like he¡¯s truly, utterly in love. The way Aster imagined he would look at her when they first reunited. Aster blinks as she begins to feel her eyes burn. She tries to take a steadying breath, but it brings her no relief. All she can feel is a growing ache, like a thousand tiny splinters lodged into the cavity of her chest. Florian reaches up to brush a hand against the girl¡¯s cheek. ¡°Didn¡¯t I tell you it¡¯s just Flynn when we¡¯re together?¡± He says. Teasing. Charming. Aster doesn¡¯t recognise this version of him. ¡°Yeah,¡± the girl says with a laugh. ¡°I don¡¯t know why that came out. An old habit, I guess.¡± Florian hums amusedly. He looks at her for a moment, speculating. ¡°You look a bit tired. Have you been feeling alright? Are you overworked?¡± ¡°I¡¯m absolutely fine Flynn, you¡¯re just imagining things. Besides, you¡¯re one to talk.¡± ¡°Well, I suppose I have been busier as of late.¡± Flynn swipes absentmindedly at his cheek. Aster spies the hint of faint shadows underneath his eyes. ¡°But it¡¯s nothing I can¡¯t handle,¡± he reassures, as he reaches for the girl¡¯s hands to clasp them in his own. ¡°Anyway, enough about me, Rose. Tell me about your day? Please? It¡¯s been a while since we¡¯ve been able to meet.¡± Aster doesn¡¯t know why she¡¯s still watching. Why she can¡¯t move. Why she can barely breathe. She''s merely a spectator within her own body, numb to the point of paralysed. Unable to tear herself away. For a long moment, the girl- Rose, doesn¡¯t say anything back. Florian¡¯s brow creases with confusion. ¡°Rose?¡± ¡°Flynn¡­¡± She says haltingly. ¡°Yes?¡± ¡°I-¡± A pause. ¡°There¡¯s something I need to ask of you.¡± ¡°You look so serious. What is it? You know I¡¯ll do anything for you.¡± Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. ¡°Anything?¡± ¡°Anything.¡± Another pause. ¡°Can this be the last time for us to meet?¡± Every trace of affection is utterly wiped from Florian¡¯s face, replaced by stunned confusion. ¡°...Why?¡± He says, voice tremulous. ¡°Did¡­ Did something happen? Did I do something wrong?¡± His eyes widen, stricken. ¡°I¡¯ll fix it! I-I¡¯ll do better, so why-¡± ¡°You know why.¡± Rose¡¯s voice is soft, so faint that Aster almost fails to catch it. A thousand different emotions flit across Florian¡¯s face. Anguish. Rage. Helplessness. His lips press themselves into a thin line. ¡°It¡¯s because she¡¯s here now, isn¡¯t it?¡± ¡°She¡¯s your fianc¨¦, Flynn.¡± ¡°And what of it?¡± Florian¡¯s voice turns pleading. ¡°Just because she¡¯s here now doesn¡¯t mean anything between us has to change.¡° ¡°How can you say that?¡± Rose¡¯s voice trembles, like it¡¯s taking all her effort to keep it even. ¡°So is this how we¡¯ll carry on? Meeting in the maze in secret? Sneaking around behind your fianc¨¦¡¯s back?¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t have a say in this marriage, Rose.¡± Florian¡¯s voice is tight. ¡°I never had a choice.¡± ¡°Maybe not.¡± Her voice is a hushed whisper. ¡°But we both knew this could never last. We both knew it would have to come to an end at some point.¡± ¡°But-¡± Florian¡¯s expression is an open wound. ¡°-I don¡¯t want to let you go.¡± When Rose speaks again, her voice is watery. ¡°Neither do I. But¡­ I have to.¡± ¡°Rose-¡± ¡°From now on, I won¡¯t be responding to your letters, or any word that you send for me,¡± she says, voice wobbling. ¡°We¡¯ll no longer meet like this, and we¡¯ll go back to the way we used to be: a prince and a girl who works for the palace. Nothing more, and nothing less.¡± ¡°Does it really have to be this way?¡± ¡°¡­Do we have any other choice?¡± His silence is answer enough. Slowly, Rose pulls her hands away from Florian¡¯s. Every gesture is slow, careful; like if she moves too quickly, either of them might shatter where they stand. Florian doesn¡¯t protest. He watches mutely, eyes filled with nothing but pain as she pries his fingers away from hers gently. Once free, she folds her fingers into her palms, clutching her fists to herself. ¡°I-¡° ¡°I love you.¡± Florian¡¯s voice breaks and shatters. ¡°I love you. I-¡± I wish it didn¡¯t have to be this way. Even if he doesn¡¯t say it out loud, Aster can hear it all the same. She can¡¯t bear to look at him. To see the anguish painted across his face. To feel her own ache magnify a thousandfold, for a million different reasons. Rose reaches forward, closing the gap between Florian and her as she cups his face between her palms. She leans up, rising on her toes to press a lingering kiss to his forehead. ¡°Goodbye, Florian Klars.¡± And then she¡¯s gone. Aster doesn¡¯t know how long she remains there, watching Florian frozen in place, gaze still fixed towards where Rose had once been. Then slowly, he reaches for his face with the back of his sleeve, eyes shining. Aster feels her knees give out. She slumps to the ground, boneless. It feels like ages before she faintly registers the sound of Florian rising again, followed by the sound of his receding footsteps. Aster clenches her hands, fingers shaking. She watches her fists tremble instead. She tries to take a breath. And another. And another. But it¡¯s no use. Her lungs merely burn, air scorching against her throat. She¡¯d asked for a reason. A reason for Florian¡¯s cold attitude. A reason for the way he¡¯d changed, unrecognisable from the boy she used to dream of. And fate had delivered. He was in love with someone else. Rose. A girl who works in the palace. How long have they been seeing each other? When did this even begin? Is Rose the reason why Florian stopped writing to her? Why he never responded to the letters she sent? The grass beneath her blurs, vision turning watery. Aster squeezes her eyes shut. Tries to breathe once more. But all that comes is a shudder instead of an inhale. Aster Vastein, don¡¯t you dare cry. Don¡¯t you dare- ¡°You little fool. Did you really think he could ever love you?¡± Chapter 20: The Thorn Amongst the Roses Aster looks up into a sneering face mere inches away from her own. A row of thorn-like teeth disappear as the apparition frowns, its head cocked to the side. Its eyes narrow discerningly, the black sclera framing its golden irises making its expression even more jarring. ¡°You¡¯re even more of an eyesore from up-close,¡± it mutters disdainfully. It¡¯s enough to shock Aster out of her previous stupor. Hale. Of all the things she had to encounter, it just had to be a spirit. And a rather rude one, at that. Bile rises in her throat as she registers the sickly sweet aroma surrounding her, only growing stronger and stronger. Roses. Aster resists the urge to gag. She stares back at the spirit, at a loss of what she should do. ¡°As if inheriting her blood wasn¡¯t enough,¡± the spirit mutters. ¡°You had to look just like her too.¡± Blood? Inheriting? It slips out of Aster unthinkingly. ¡°What are you talking about?¡± She slaps her hands over her mouth instantly, as the spirit¡¯s void-like eyes widen by a fraction. ¡°You can see me,¡± it says. Aster curses inwardly. She just had to open her big mouth and draw its full attention. Now what? The spirit rises to its feet, the edge of its tunic fluttering. A red military coat complete with epaulettes is draped over its shoulders, layered on top of a flowing white tunic cut jagged at the knees. The front of its coat is decorated in an array of glittering finery: heavyset rings and shining cufflinks glitter beside jewelled earrings and statement necklaces, all pinned against the coat¡¯s fabric like medals of honour. But it¡¯s the circlet of thorns adorning its neck that clues Aster in on the spirit¡¯s identity. Resting amongst the thorns against the spirit¡¯s throat, is a single, Lucre rose. Prized by the royal family and worth its scent in gold; and the very same flowers she recalls adorning the maze¡¯s entrance. ¡°You¡­¡± Aster says haltingly. ¡°You¡¯re the spirit who guard¡¯s the royal maze. Aren¡¯t you?¡± The spirit gives her a considering look. ¡°Perhaps that head of yours isn¡¯t purely ornamental.¡± ¡°Uh¡­ thank you?¡± Every muscle in Aster¡¯s body is drawn taut. She¡¯s always been wary of spirits. It came from a childhood of running and hiding; not only from the needle-sharp words that people would throw her way, but also from the nasty tricks the spirits on the estate would pull on her. Despite her mother¡¯s weekly ritual of offering them treats in exchange for dialling down on their mischief, Aster still found herself dodging acorns and untangling weeds from her hair more often than she¡¯d like. The pranking had ceased once Damien began living on the estate, and that¡¯s only after he¡¯d overcome his initial hostility towards Aster and her family, and finally stopped treating them like they were threats. ¡°Tell me, little girl,¡± the spirit says, mouth splitting into that razor sharp smile once more. ¡°How does it feel, knowing that your betrothed is in love with another?¡± You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. The words are a stab through Aster¡¯s still sore heart. An image of Florian¡¯s face floats through her mind. Loving. Affectionate. Nothing at all like the way he looks at her. She fights back the lump that rises in her throat. ¡°Is that why you¡¯re here?¡± She says. ¡°To rub salt in the wound? I figured you¡¯d have more important things to do, no?¡± The spirit sneers at her gleefully. ¡°Nothing holds precedence at the moment, other than putting a nuisance in its place.¡± Aster feels a chill run up her spine. Compared to the entity standing before her, the spirits she¡¯d dealt with in the past were practically small fries. Forget tossing dirt at her or scattering leaves across her bedroom floor; this spirit looks like it¡¯ll like nothing more than to wrap its circlet of thorns around Aster¡¯s skinny neck. ¡°You look like the stubborn type, so let me put it into words for you.¡± The spirit begins to parade in a slow circle around her, steps lazy and mocking. ¡°Your betrothed can¡¯t stand the sight of you, the staff whisper about you behind your back, and let¡¯s not even get started on that filthy blood of yours.¡± The spirit pulls a face, like it¡¯s gotten a whiff of something particularly vile. ¡°And what about it?¡± Aster tries for bravado, but her voice comes out small and shaky. ¡°And what about it?¡± The spirit echoes mockingly, before letting out a cackle of a laugh. ¡°I can¡¯t tell if you¡¯re truly a fool, or just much too adept at playing the part. Regardless, let me make it easier for you to understand.¡± Aster backs away as the spirit comes in closer. It grins, delighting in her unease. ¡°You,¡± it says gleefully. ¡°Are not wanted here.¡± Aster doesn¡¯t know how it¡¯s possible for her face to burn while her blood turns to ice. Even as the spirit takes another step towards her, she can¡¯t bring herself to back away. ¡°So here¡¯s a suggestion,¡± the spirit continues. ¡°Why don¡¯t you make like the eyesore that you are, and leave this palace?¡± For a second, all she can see is the wicked gleam of its mouth, her thoughts unravelling like a spool of thread. Subconsciously, her fingers manage to find each other, tangling together on instinct. Lace. Unlace. Lace. Unlace. A nervous habit. One familiar enough to make her remember her words. ¡°You think I don¡¯t know that?¡± She says, voice wavering more than she¡¯d like. ¡°That I¡¯m not wanted here?¡± She looks down at her shaking hands. ¡°I know that more than anyone else.¡± But¡­ that isn¡¯t completely true either. Because there are people in the castle who seem to like having her around. People like Fina, who day by day, is beginning to bring more of her guard down whenever she''s around Aster. And Han, who always welcomes her cheerily whenever she pops by the tower for a visit. And¡­ Damien. Damien, who knows more than anyone else why she¡¯s still here in the palace, even despite her absent fianc¨¦ and the gossiping staff. Aster takes a breath, steadying herself. ¡°Even so, what does it matter?¡± She says. ¡°Florian¡¯s affair doesn¡¯t make a difference. I¡¯m still his betrothed. I¡¯m still in the palace. And I will remain in the palace.¡± She holds the spirit¡¯s gaze unflinchingly. ¡°So long as our union still stands, I will fulfil my promise to marry him.¡± The spirit smirks, unimpressed. ¡°Even if he doesn¡¯t love you?¡± ¡°Does it matter?¡± Aster¡¯s words are at odds with her still aching heart. But the spirit doesn¡¯t need to know that. ¡°I don¡¯t see Florian annulling our engagement. So long as it holds, I will honour it.¡± ¡°How chivalrous,¡± the spirit says dryly. ¡°And what of the rest of the palace? The people who whisper about you being cursed?¡± Aster barely restrains a flinch. No, she can¡¯t back down now. ¡°I¡¯ll change their minds.¡± She presses on, words getting surer and surer. ¡°Every single person who ever doubted me. I¡¯ll change their minds, and convince them that I am more than worthy to remain.¡± A hesitant pause. ¡°Even you.¡± The spirit¡¯s eyes narrow into slits. ¡°Even¡­ me?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°You?¡± It murmurs. ¡°Winning me over?¡± It lets slip a bark of a laugh. ¡°How novel.¡± Its gaze turns sharply on her, not a trace of humour in its voice. ¡°Try your best, Vastein girl. And I will watch as every person you attempt to woo, throws your best efforts right back into your face.¡± Aster does not look away. ¡°Good,¡± she says. ¡°Keep on watching me. And you¡¯ll see just how I¡¯ll prove you wrong.¡± For the longest moment, the spirit merely looks at her, unsettlingly silent for the first time. ¡°You,¡± it says finally, lip curling. ¡°Are a nuisance.¡± Its eyes flash menacingly. ¡°I knew I should¡¯ve dealt with your mother when I still had the chance.¡± Aster¡¯s stomach swoops. ¡°Wait, you knew my-?¡± But the spirit is gone. Not with a bang or a poof or a cloud of smoke. Simply there one second and gone the next, not a whisper of it left in the place it once stood. All that remains is the reek of Lucre roses, still clinging to Aster¡¯s skin. Chapter 21: Out of the Frying Pan... Aster trudges down the path, her mind racing in an endless loop. Florian¡¯s affair. The maze¡¯s spirit. Florian¡¯s affair. The maze¡¯s spirit. Florian¡¯s affair- She stumbles right into a hedge, nose stinging as the leaves prick at her face. She swears that wall hadn¡¯t been so close earlier. Was that petty old spirit playing tricks on her? If only she hadn¡¯t gone into this stupid maze for it¡¯s stupid, fake magical shortcut. If only she hadn¡¯t gotten preoccupied at the magic tower and ended up running late for tea. If only she hadn¡¯t bothered to stop and listen to Florian as he- Aster has to stop in her tracks, dizzy from her own thoughts. She buries her face into her hands, desperate for some sort of respite. What was she supposed to do now? Go see the queen like nothing happened? Make up an excuse for why she was late? Act like she hadn¡¯t just seen Florian proclaim his love for a girl she didn¡¯t even know? Aster¡¯s throat is a coil of knots. She wishes she could scream. Should she scream? Will anyone outside hear her? Does she want anyone outside to hear her? She scoffs bitterly into her palms. The prince¡¯s cursed fianc¨¦ found lost and screaming in the maze? The palace rumor mill would have a field day. No, she¡¯d have to find a way out of this maze herself. Besides¡­ The memory of Florian¡¯s face flashes through her mind once more. Giddy with love. Broken with heartache. Her lungs shudder, struggling to draw breath. What if Florian is still in vicinity? How will she ever be able to face him? ¡°Tell me, little girl,¡± the spirit¡¯s words echo menacingly in her head. ¡°How does it feel, knowing that your betrothed is in love with another?¡± The hot sting of tears pricks against the back of her eyes. Aster shakes her head furiously. No, no, no. She can¡¯t cry. Not now. Not when she¡¯s still stuck in this wretched maze. Not when there¡¯s still the possibility of that nasty old spirit watching her even now. She suppresses a shudder at the memory of it. Of the wicked glint of its thorny smile. Of the pungent stench of roses still heavy on her tongue, more cloying than any perfume Han could ever concoct. If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Aster clutches at her arms protectively. What was she thinking, getting all cocky with it at the very end, acting like she had a clue? Where¡¯s your bravado now, Aster Vastein? Where¡¯s that misplaced confidence? It¡¯s a miracle that the spirit hadn¡¯t put her in her place right then and there. She rises to her feet shakily. She can¡¯t remain here, stuck within this maze. She has to get out. Even if the thought of facing the queen and answering for her absence made her insides writhe. Well, Aster thinks to herself somberly. At least Queen Annaliese might be merciful even if I start crying. Can¡¯t say the same for that pest of a spirit. Slowly, she inhales, palms smoothing over her cheeks. She exhales gradually. Lifts her hands away. And smacks them against her face sharply. She winces, cheeks stinging. But it does the trick. She feels more grounded than before, resolve gaining clarity. Reinvigorated, Aster continues down the path, more diligent than ever as she scans her surroundings for an opening. For anything really. A breach in the maze¡¯s walls that she can claw her way out of, a hole that she can use to stick her hand out and call for help. She rounds the next corner, arms swinging, feet practically marching. ¡°There has to be a way out,¡± she thinks desperately as she swivels her head around, scrutinising every awful green hedge she passes by. ¡°Just a single, tiny-¡° She stops. ¡°-opening.¡± Maybe she¡¯s imagining it. There. At the far end of the path she¡¯s standing on. A gap. A skinny, sliver of a gap, just wide enough for anyone who¡¯s desperate enough to shimmy through and risk a branch to the face. It¡¯s a good thing Aster¡¯s dealt with worse. She takes off down the path, running like her very life depends on it. The hole is still miraculously, wondrously there by the time she makes it to the end. Aster throws herself through the gap recklessly, branches catching on her arms and dress before she finally manages to wrest herself from the hedge¡¯s clutches, tumbling out onto the other side. She shakes the hair out of her face. Looks up. There is no green wall to welcome her. Only the patch of grass she¡¯s huddled on and the trodden dirt path before her, whisking its way along the maze¡¯s edge before it disappears past a turn. She made it. She¡¯s out of the maze. Aster¡¯s on her feet in seconds. She can¡¯t celebrate now. Not until she¡¯s put as much space as possible between her and the wretched green death trap behind her. She makes for the dirt road, stumbling in her panic. How far does she need to be to escape from that spirit¡¯s evil little clutches? It can¡¯t possibly reach her anymore now that she¡¯s out, right? Right? She shoots a furtive glance backwards. Every taut muscle in her body hangs slack once she does, the tension leaving her like rising steam. The hole she¡¯d escaped from is no longer there; not a single tear or break in the wall that Aster had thrashed through to escape. All that¡¯s left is a single, perfect hedge. Yes! She has to resist from dancing where she stands. She made it! Out of the maze, with barely a scratch at that! She catches sight of the backs of her hands. Okay, maybe a few scratches. But unscathed nonetheless! She glares at the maze¡¯s hedge, before sticking her tongue out at it petulantly. Sucker! See if I ever step inside your stupid, overgrown- CRACK! A sharp pain explodes across the back of Aster¡¯s skull, accompanied by the sound of something splintering. Her knees buckle, vision swimming. The last thing she hears before she hits the ground is a loud and startled, ¡°FUCK!¡± And then the world turns to black. Chapter 22: A Day in the Life of Damien Nox Maybe Han was right about investing in wool underwear. Damien shivers as another gust of wind breezes right through him, making every hair on his body stand on end. ¡°Hey Gerry,¡± he calls. ¡°You coming with that plank or not? I¡¯m freezing my ass out here.¡± ¡°Can it drama queen, you¡¯re acting like you can¡¯t magic up snowflakes just by wiggling your fingers.¡± Damien rolls his eyes. ¡°Yeah, yeah, oh the irony. I get flak about it from Han every time it gets cold, I don¡¯t need you getting on my ass about it too.¡± He cups his hands together so he can breathe warmth into them. ¡°You coming anytime soon with that plank?¡± A clatter resounds. ¡°Gimme a second, will ya? The guys who dropped off the supplies didn¡¯t sort shit, and I don¡¯t know which size we¡¯re supposed to use.¡± ¡°Does the size even matter?¡± ¡°Of course it does, you clod. Just sit your ass down and wait like a good little boy. You know all about being good, don¡¯t you, castle poster boy?¡± ¡°Stub your toe and die.¡± They could go at this all day, because Damien never knows when to quit and Gerry¡¯s the sick kind of bastard who gets a kick out of pissing people off. But that would mean Gerry taking longer than necessary just to bring over a bunch of wooden boards, and Damien will be damned if it takes them any longer to get this done. He¡¯s got a hundred and ten other things to do, and the last thing he needs is to spend an extra second of his precious time on Gerry. He picks sullenly at the grain of the rotting wooden planks they¡¯d already taken down, already going through the rest of his schedule for today. Right after he¡¯s done here, he promised to help the maids with dusting the hallway and reaching the alcoves that were too high for them. After that, it¡¯s off to the knights barracks where some idiot got drunk the night before and thought it would be hilarious to toss all the leather guards from the armoury up onto the damn roof (apparently the culprit¡¯s been ¡®dealt¡¯ with already by Sir Lance. Damien¡¯s condolences to the poor bastard.) Stolen story; please report. After that, he¡¯s got a date with the bats in the south annex, because he¡¯s already received several complaints from the staff about the mess they leave behind. What a pain in the ass. Fruit bats are always so damn chatty, it¡¯ll probably take Damien half the day just to convince them to leave. That said; before he can get on with the rest of his thrilling day, he¡¯s stuck fixing a disused shed in the eastern gardens. Gerry¡¯s been tasked with fixing it because he probably has nothing better to do (and because the head steward kinda has it out for him. Hale only knows why). Damien¡¯s stuck fixing it with him because Gerry¡¯s enough of an asshole to exploit the fact that Damien literally cannot say no to any request given to him. It¡¯s one part job scope, two parts image, three parts last ditch attempt at making nice; because no matter how many pleasantries you exchange with the populace, being a witch means you still get a dirty look or two every time you walk down the palace halls. He wishes it didn¡¯t have to be this way, but that¡¯s a little difficult to do when your mentor and self-proclaimed current face of magic is too much of an oddball to give a shit about public perception. (The child abduction accusations aren¡¯t helping either.) He flicks a finger idly, shooting out a gust of wind that sends splinters of wood skittering across the floor. He wonders how Aster¡¯s doing with her meeting with the queen. He smiles a little at the memory of her rushing from the magic tower earlier, nearly upending her seat in her haste. Idiot. He hopes she made it there on time. Aster always seems happy when she recounts her meetings with the queen to him. It seems like they¡¯re getting along, which is good. It¡¯s great, really. Having a mother-in-law who actually likes you is the least anyone can hope for from a marriage. Doesn¡¯t make up for the fact that the person she¡¯s set to marry is acting like a ginormous tool at the moment, but hey, at least it¡¯s something. Maybe Damien can knock some sense into Flynn¡¯s thick skull before the ceremony happens. He leans back on his heels, hands cupped around his mouth. ¡°I can feel the hypothermia kicking in already, Gerry Berry.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t call me that.¡± ¡°Gerry Darling.¡± ¡°Shit stain.¡± ¡°Light of my life.¡± ¡°Shut your mouth.¡± ¡°Fire of my loins.¡± ¡°Can you-!¡° A sharp crack resounds, followed by a loud- ¡°FUCK!¡± Damien jumps to his feet. That outburst of profanity sounded a little too sudden, even for the likes of Gerry. ¡°Hey, Gerry? You alright? Don¡¯t tell me you dropped a plank on your foot or something.¡± As he rounds the shed, the first thing he sees is Gerry, face pale, fingers ashen around the plank he¡¯s still clutching. The board in his hands looks like it¡¯s taken a bashing, wood splintered but somehow still in one piece. And then Damien sees the girl. She¡¯s crumpled on the ground like a puppet with its strings cut, eyes shut, snow-white hair splayed around her like fraying threads of halo. His blood turns to ice. Aster. Chapter 23: The Girl, the Witch, and the Audacity of this- His thoughts devolve into static. Aster? Aster? Isn¡¯t she supposed to be having tea with the queen? What is she doing here? Why is she- How- ¡°Gerry,¡± Damien says, and it¡¯s alarming even to him how eerily calm his voice sounds. How it doesn¡¯t betray the frantic jackrabbiting of his heart, nor the way his mind is beginning to spiral. ¡°What. The fuck. Did you do.¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t do anything.¡± Gerry¡¯s voice is strained, drawn taut to the point of brittle. He tosses his plank to the side, wiping his hands down his face as it clatters against the other boards. ¡°Nox. I know what it looks like, but I didn¡¯t. Do. Anything.¡± ¡°There¡¯s a girl out cold on the ground by your feet. How the fuck are you gonna explain that?¡± ¡°Bloody Hale Nox, she came out of nowhere! I was minding my own sweet business, about to haul ass and plank so we can finally get started, when all of a sudden this girl pops up out of the blue and runs right into the damn piece of wood! How¡¯s it my fault when she¡¯s the one who couldn¡¯t be bothered to use her eyes?¡± Damien pinches his brow between his fingers. No, Damien. He is your friend. Your friend! Friends do not string each other up from the castle¡¯s turrets because they knocked out the most important person in their life. You must stay calm. Resist. Do not think about throttling Gerry, or knocking the holy spirits out of him. You can¡¯t be convicted for manslaughter now. How are you supposed to fulfil your promise to Selene if you end up behind bars? How are you gonna look after Aster and see that she gets safely married to her prick of a betrothed? Damien takes in a steadying breath. He crouches down, close enough so he can see the pale sheen on Aster¡¯s face, close enough to wrap his fingers around her wrist. She¡¯s cold. Not a flicker of a response, even when he lifts her hand. But beneath his fingertips, Damien can feel the flutter of her pulse. Fainter than he¡¯d like, but still there. Should he call for help? Take her to the royal physician? Send word to the queen? No, no, he can¡¯t. Gerry will be killed. Then... what¡¯s he supposed to do? Damien¡¯s pulse thunders in his ears, every bit of medical first aid drilled into his head scattered to dust in the face of Aster¡¯s limp figure. The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. She¡¯s still. So still. Too still. Almost as if, she¡¯s d- ¡°She¡¯s not dead Nox, just concussed.¡± Gerry crouches down beside him. He seems to be more composed now, but the blood still hasn¡¯t returned to his face. ¡°Get your shit together, idiot,¡± he sighs. ¡°She¡¯s gonna wake up.¡± The static in Damien¡¯s head lifts the slightest bit. ¡°I know that.¡± He exhales shakily, releasing a breath he hadn¡¯t realised he was holding. He glances sullenly at Gerry, before flicking his fingers his way. An icy tendril of wind snaps against his forehead, leaving Gerry wincing. ¡°Look at you, acting like you¡¯re not the person responsible for all of this.¡± Gerry frowns, rubbing at his temple. ¡°That hurt, you prick. And I told you already, it¡¯s not my fault.¡± The look on his face turns contemplative as he regards Aster on the ground. ¡°More importantly, you think we can get Miss Future Princess here to the magic tower? Maybe have Han take a look? Calling for other help is out of the question at the moment, since despite the truth, all evidence points incriminatingly to me.¡± Holy Hale, he¡¯s so full of shit. Damien shakes his head. ¡°Han¡¯s not in right now; he left to do some errands in town right around the time you showed up to drag me into fixing the shed.¡± Gerry¡¯s frown deepens. ¡°Great. Now what?¡± ¡°We can still take her to the tower. I know a thing or two about medicine myself, you know.¡± ¡°Yeah? Guess you ain¡¯t just for show, huh Nox?¡± Damien gives him a dirty look. ¡°You¡¯re such a-¡° He sighs aggrievedly. ¡°Oh forget it. Shut up and give me a hand, Gerry.¡± Together, they manage to carefully manoeuvre Aster into Damien¡¯s arms. Once she¡¯s secure, Damien rises to his feet, Aster¡¯s head cradled carefully against his chest. ¡°You got anything to cover her hair?¡± Asks Gerry. Damien shakes his head. Gerry tsks. ¡°Same here. Guess I¡¯ll just keep lookout then.¡± He sets off down the path, scanning the surroundings to their getaway. Damien¡¯s gotta hand it to him. It¡¯s honestly impressive how coolheaded Gerry¡¯s being about all this, even if he is the one responsible for this mess. Watching him manages to ease Damien¡¯s nerves somewhat. Just barely. He glances down at Aster in his arms. Is it normal for people who are unconscious to be so cold? So pale? His eyes rest upon her closed lids, on the faint shadow her lashes cast upon her cheeks, on the barely there rise and fall of her chest. ¡°You¡¯re going to be okay,¡± he murmurs, not sure if it¡¯s more for his sake or hers. ¡°I¡¯ll make sure of it.¡± ¡°All clear.¡± He looks up to see Gerry beckoning him forwards. ¡°Move it, Nox.¡± They hurry down the path, darting through the gardens and as many shortcuts they can take without being seen. Damien magics up cushions of air beneath his feet, gliding more than walking as he follows behind Gerry in an effort to avoid jostling Aster as they make haste. After several minutes of running, he stops abruptly as Gerry throws out a hand towards him, both of them sheltered behind a row of manicured bushes. Past the bend where the last of their cover remains, is the path that they¡¯re aiming for: a stretch of open pavement that leaves them completely exposed, before branching off onto the magic tower¡¯s infamous mosaiced road. ¡°Someone¡¯s coming,¡± Gerry hisses. Damien holds his breath as they sink themselves into the cover of the bushes. Seconds later, a man ambles past them, humming cheerfully to himself as he disappears in the opposite direction. One of the gardeners, if Damien¡¯s memory serves him right. Gerry peeks out cautiously once the man is gone from sight. ¡°Seems to be clear. On my mark, we make a run for it.¡° Damien nods. He rises on his heels, readying himself for their final sprint. ¡°Now-!¡± ¡°Gerard?¡± Both of them freeze instantly at the voice that comes from behind them. Chapter 24: Busted ¡°Nox,¡± murmurs Gerry carefully. ¡°Whatever you do, do not turn around.¡± ¡°What difference does it make if I turn or not, we¡¯re fucked anyway,¡± Damien hisses back. ¡°Listen to me you-!¡± Damien turns. And immediately wishes he hadn¡¯t. The girl who stands behind them is dressed in the maid¡¯s uniform; her blue grey attire immaculate, her hair perfectly neat, her expression appropriately detached. But it¡¯s her eyes that send a chill running up Damien¡¯s spine. Grey fire. That¡¯s the only way to describe them. He almost flinches when those very eyes snap towards his. ¡°Sir Damien,¡± the girl says frostily, voice like shattered glass. ¡°Please tell me why in blessed Hale are you and Gerard crouched in the bushes with my lady unconscious in your arms?¡± And that¡¯s when it hits him. Oh Hale. This girl isn¡¯t just any maid. She¡¯s Seraphina. The stories Damien¡¯s heard from Aster about her are enough to shoot any notion of them wheedling their way out of this mess right in the foot. And that¡¯s without the added bonus of Gerry¡¯s little ¡®situation,¡¯ with her. No wonder the bastard¡¯s so edgy. ¡°Sir Damien. I asked you a question.¡± Damien snaps back to attention. ¡°Right! Right. So, the reason why we¡¯re like this is...¡± Shit. He didn¡¯t have time for this. Not when Aster¡¯s still unconscious in his arms. Seraphina arches an eyebrow primly at him. ¡°¡­ is, something I will reveal to you¡­ only if you follow us to the magic tower!¡± Seraphina¡¯s brow furrows. ¡°Excuse me? Are you truly making demands right now? In that position? And Gerard Bates, stop acting like a crook and face me when I am speaking.¡± Gerry turns to face her stiffly as Damien shrugs, like he isn¡¯t acutely aware of the way Gerry and him are crouched in the bushes like a pair of criminals. ¡°Look, Miss Seraphina, I understand how this must seem-¡° ¡°I don¡¯t think you do.¡± This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. ¡°- I understand how this must seem,¡± Damien presses on. ¡°But I promise you, we¡¯ll explain everything to you once we get Lady Aster to the magic tower to treat her for her¡­ condition. Right, Gerry?¡± ¡°Wait, what exactly are we explaining to her-¡° Gerry hisses. ¡°Right, Gerry?¡± Damien gives him a look. Gerry makes a sound akin to a strangled cat. ¡°¡­Right,¡± he says eventually, like he has to drag the word from behind clenched teeth. Seraphina looks at them the way one would regard a roach on the ground. ¡°I think the two of you are misunderstanding something,¡± she says, voice crackling through the air like a whip. ¡°Are you completely unaware that Her Majesty, Queen Annaliese is looking for Lady Aster right this instant?¡± No surprise there; Damien expected as much. ¡°Why¡¯s the queen looking for her?¡± Asks Gerry. ¡°My lady had a pre-scheduled meeting with Her Majesty today. However, she failed to show up during the appointed time, which is unusual for her. To say that Her Majesty is concerned would be an understatement.¡± The look Seraphina throws their way is sharp as flint. ¡°So rather than worrying about explaining yourselves to me, I¡¯ll have the two of you save your excuses for Her Majesty herself, while I bring my lady to the royal physician for treatment.¡± Damien shoots Gerry a sideways look. ¡°Sounds like it¡¯s the slammer for you, Gerrykins.¡± Gerry glares back at him witheringly. ¡°If I¡¯m going, you¡¯re coming with me, asshole. Don¡¯t act like you¡¯re not implicit now too.¡± He has a point there. It¡¯s a little difficult for Damien to plead innocence when he¡¯s the one carrying Aster¡¯s unconscious body. But what was he supposed to do? Trust Gerry with Aster? Fat chance. Damien sighs. ¡°You¡¯re lucky I¡¯m such a good friend.¡± ¡°You¡¯re so full of shit.¡± ¡°Thanks, I learned from the best.¡± ¡°Are the two of you quite done whispering to each other?¡± Seraphina cuts in icily. ¡°Quite.¡± Damien grins. He thinks he sees a vein pop on Seraphina¡¯s forehead. ¡°So, about your suggestion for us to see the queen and have Aster brought to the royal physician¡­ yeah, I don¡¯t think that¡¯s possible at the moment.¡± For the longest time, Seraphina simply stares at him, expression unreadable. Then her face hardens. ¡°This is ridiculous,¡± she mutters darkly. She turns away, as she throws her head back. ¡°GUAR-!¡° Her brow furrows as her voice cuts out. She clutches at her throat, opening her mouth once more. But no sound comes. Damien looks innocently back as she glowers at him. ¡°Sorry Miss Seraphina,¡± he says. ¡°Can¡¯t have you calling the guards now. But like I said earlier; I swear on my reputation as Han¡¯s apprentice, we¡¯ll tell you everything that happened, as long as you follow us without making a fuss.¡± If he were a lesser man, he would¡¯ve dropped dead at the look Seraphina pins him with. She turns her back on him with a huff, setting off down the path at a frightening pace. Uh oh. Can¡¯t have her running off to get help either. Her face fills with alarm as a breeze sweeps her off her feet, Damien¡¯s magic lifting her up and into the air. ¡°Damn Nox, careful with her,¡± mutters Gerry. Damien thinks he almost seems concerned. ¡°I¡¯m always careful.¡± Damien scoffs. ¡°Besides, I wouldn¡¯t have to resort to this if you hadn¡¯t knocked out her lady.¡± ¡°For the last time-¡° ¡°Yeah, yeah, I¡¯m not responsible.¡± Damien rolls his eyes. ¡°Cram it, you self-preserving dick. I¡¯ll have you cough out your alibi to Aster herself once she¡¯s awake.¡± For now, too many things weren¡¯t adding up for him to subject Gerry to the slammer. For one, what was Aster doing in the gardens when she was supposed to be having tea with the queen? And secondly, how did Gerry end up knocking her out without noticing her presence before it was too late? Damien gets to his feet. ¡°We¡¯ve wasted enough time here. Come on Gerry- we¡¯re making a run for it.¡± Chapter 25: Kind Stranger A faint musical chiming floats in and out of Aster¡¯s consciousness, like a thousand tiny bells ringing in the wind. Slowly, she blinks her eyes open. A hundred windchimes hang from the ceiling above her, dripping glass and teardrops and ornamental beads. Carved wooden tokens dangle amongst spiralling seashells and crystalline fixtures, while paper tags flutter from their glass jars. A string of bottlecaps clatter against a fixture of metal constellations, as feathers of jet black and tawny and snow-white flap in the remnants of a past breeze. Aster knows this ceiling. It¡¯s Damien¡¯s room. Why is she in Damien¡¯s room? A sharp spike of pain lances through her skull, making her wince. ¡°Ow,¡± she mutters, as the back of her head throbs with a pulsing ache. What in Hale happened to her? ¡°Oh good. You¡¯re awake.¡± Aster¡¯s eyes snap to the side, where a boy is seated beside the bed. He regards her almost warily, irises so pale they¡¯re more akin to chips of ice. ¡°Thank Hale,¡± he mutters to himself, scrubbing a hand through his cropped blonde hair. ¡°Nox would¡¯ve ripped me a new one if you didn¡¯t wake up.¡± ¡°Nox?¡± Aster rises to sit up. ¡°You mean Damien Nox? Do you know him?¡± The boy scoffs. ¡°Who in this palace doesn¡¯t know him?¡± Aster frowns. Before she can speak again, the boy beats her to it. ¡°I¡¯ve never had to deal with, er, ladies of nobility before, so I don¡¯t really know what to call you,¡± he admits. ¡°Are you fine with me calling you miss?¡± Miss. That takes her back; it¡¯s what the stablehands at the estate used to call her while she was growing up. Aster nods. ¡°Yeah, miss is fine.¡± The boy nods to himself. ¡°Alright then. Miss, I think you¡¯re going to need this.¡± He reaches down to grab something in a bucket by his foot, before holding it out to her. Something wrapped in cloth. When Aster takes it from him, she finds that it¡¯s cold to the touch. ¡°We weren¡¯t quite sure of how to ice your injury while you were lying down.¡± The boy gestures towards the back of his head vaguely. ¡°But it should help somewhat.¡± Gingerly, Aster presses the pack onto the back of her skull. She hisses at the initial contact, before the ice works its magic and begins to numb the pain. ¡°Thanks,¡± she says with relief. ¡°Uh-¡± ¡°Gerard,¡± the boy says. ¡°The name¡¯s Gerard.¡± ¡°Well, then thanks for the ice, Gerard.¡± ¡°You¡¯re welcome.¡± Something about this whole situation feels¡­ strange. Not just her splitting skull, or the fact that she can¡¯t remember how she ended up here. Something feels off about Damien¡¯s room. But what? Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. It looks the same as always. The same star shower of windchimes hanging from the ceiling, the same ominously smudged notebook lying on his desk, the same collection of dried flower wreaths stacked meticulously on the shelf. The same sight Aster¡¯s grown used to seeing, every time she pops by the magic tower to visit. And then it hits her. Oh, she thinks to herself. That¡¯s what¡¯s off. All the noise. The click clack of wooden tiles knocking against each other. The silvery chime of metal as the breeze winds its way through the strings. Every time Aster¡¯s visited, Damien¡¯s room had always been quiet, every windchime and ornament hung in utter stillness. Practice, Damien calls it. Creepy, dubs Han. The ability to manipulate the air around every hanging string and hollow shell subconsciously, the second Damien steps into his room. But now, without their owner there to manipulate their breath, the windchimes play freely, filling the room with their song. ¡°Do you remember what happened, miss?¡± Aster tears her gaze away from the windchimes. ¡°Sorry, come again?¡± ¡°Do you remember what happened?¡± The boy repeats. ¡°Before you passed out?¡± ¡°I passed out?¡± ¡°We found you in the east gardens near the magic tower. Can you remember how you ended up there?¡± ¡°Well-¡° Aster racks her brain for an explanation. ¡°I¡­ got lost.¡± ¡°Lost?¡± Well technically she did get lost. Within the maze that is. ¡°Oh you know, the palace is just so huge.¡± She shrugs helplessly as Gerard narrows his eyes at her. ¡°As for how I ended up passing out¡­¡± She tries to piece together what happened after she escaped from the maze, only to come up with a blank. ¡°I¡­ can¡¯t remember.¡± Gerard frowns. ¡°Hm.¡± Aster swings her legs over the side of the bed to face him. ¡°So¡­ you and Damien brought me here after you found me passed out in the gardens?¡± ¡°That¡¯s right, miss.¡± ¡°So where¡¯s Damien now?¡± ¡°He¡¯s-¡° The door flies open with a bang. ¡°Gerry, how is she?¡± The second Damien¡¯s eyes land on her, he¡¯s at her side in an instant, shoving Gerard aside so he can kneel by the bed. ¡°How are you feeling? Are you okay? Are you in pain?¡± Aster watches him fret over her, managing to feel both comforted and overwhelmed at the same time. ¡°Feels like I just got knocked out,¡± she says, only half-joking. ¡°Huh. Funny you should say that.¡± He casts Gerard a sideways glance. Gerard shakes his head dismally. ¡°That sounds awful, miss.¡± Damien¡¯s eyes narrow. ¡°You ass. She doesn¡¯t know, does she?¡± ¡°Is that her treatment, Nox?¡± Gerard juts his chin towards the bowl that Damien¡¯s clutching. In it is a goopy mixture of herbs, the scent wafting from it making Aster¡¯s nose wrinkle. ¡°Smells like crap.¡± ¡°Is that comfrey?¡± Aster pulls a face. ¡°I hate comfrey.¡± ¡°The injured don¡¯t get to be choosy,¡± Damien says, lifting a spoonful of the mixture towards her. Aster recoils dramatically. ¡°Are you putting that on my head? My hair¡¯s going to stain!¡± ¡°Wear a hat or something.¡± ¡°It¡¯s winter!¡± ¡°Well, time to introduce woollen hats into high society fashion, princess. You can be the next trendsetter.¡± Aster scoots determinedly into the corner of the bed furthest from Damien. He watches her go bemusedly. ¡°Nox, since you¡¯re up here, does that mean you managed to convince Fina?¡± Gerard chips in. ¡°What do you think?¡± Gerard looks somewhat impressed. ¡°She became a lot more amicable once you were out of sight,¡± Damien continues. ¡°Go screw yourself.¡± Gerard scoffs. He rights his stool back up, before settling onto it once more. ¡°Where is she now?¡± ¡°On her way to send word to the queen. After, she¡¯s coming right back to hear Aster¡¯s verdict straight from her own mouth.¡± Aster isn¡¯t following any of their conversation, feeling more and more lost. ¡°Wait, Fina as in Seraphina? What does she have to do with any of this? And what do you mean by my verdict?¡± Damien grasps the back of his neck, expression twisting into something exasperated. ¡°Hale, where do I even begin¡­¡± He sighs. ¡°Well for starters, do you mind telling me how you ended up getting knocked out by Gerry?¡± Aster blinks back at him owlishly. ¡°¡­What?¡± ¡°Gerry. He¡¯s the one who knocked you out.¡± Aster turns to look at Gerard, who remains impassive despite the accusation. In fact, he almost looks bored. She looks back at Damien. Then at Gerard. Then she points a finger at him. ¡°You what?¡± Chapter 26: Accomplice to the Crime Gerard sighs. ¡°First of all, it wasn¡¯t intentional. Second of all, you¡¯re the one who came running at me. If anything, you ended up knocking yourself out.¡± ¡°Not an ounce of shame in you, huh?¡± Damien¡¯s expression is tired; like he¡¯s heard this explanation one too many times. ¡°Shame is only for the guilty; which I am not.¡± Gerard shoots him a pointed look. Damien rolls his eyes skywards. He kicks Gerard¡¯s stool, nudging it in Aster¡¯s direction. ¡°Guilty or not asshat, you¡¯re still the one who held the plank that knocked her out. The least you can do is cough out an apology.¡± Gerard shoots him a withering look, before his eyes drift over towards Aster. His expression schools itself into something more neutral, albeit still unwilling. ¡°I apologise for knocking you out,¡± he says stiffly. ¡°Even if it was mostly your own fault,¡± he ends up muttering. ¡°Gerry.¡± ¡°What, it¡¯s true.¡± Despite herself, Aster can¡¯t really find it in herself to dislike the guy. Maybe it¡¯s because she doesn¡¯t really know anything about Gerard, other than the fact that he¡¯s a real good liar and petty to boot. Which aren¡¯t very good traits, she¡¯ll admit. Still, there¡¯s just something about the guy. Maybe it¡¯s the way that everything that comes out of his mouth seems to incense Damien to no end. It¡¯s amusing to watch, given how Damien doesn¡¯t even bother to hide his frustration despite him long mastering the art of the poker face. It makes him look like a child. Aster likes it; it reminds her of the old days. ¡°Whatever the case,¡± Damien says, addressing Aster once more. ¡°Even if Gerry¡¯s being an ass about it, he does have a point. Sort of.¡± It looks like it pains him to admit as much. He soldiers on. ¡°Aster, can you tell me what were you doing in the gardens? Weren¡¯t you supposed to be sitting for tea with the queen?¡± ¡°I¡­¡± Aster doesn¡¯t know where she should look. She settles for some point on the mattress between her and Damien. ¡°Well. You know how I was late, right?¡± ¡°Yeah?¡± ¡°Well, I was late, and then I panicked, and then I remembered what Fina told me, about the maze helping people if they had places to be.¡± Aster¡¯s hand drops from her head, her hands bunching themselves into her skirts, ice and all. ¡°So¡­ I went in.¡± ¡°Into the maze?¡± Aster nods. ¡°Then what happened?¡± ¡°And then¡­¡± Florian. Rose. The maze¡¯s spirit. Florian smiling, in a way she¡¯d never seen him. So, so, bright. The way that smile had disappeared, giving way to balled fists and sleeve dampened tears. The reek of roses. The glint of thorn sharp teeth. That high, mocking voice. ¡°Aster? What happened then?¡± Damien¡¯s voice is soft yet firm, edged with concern. Aster can¡¯t bring herself to look at him. A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. ¡°Aster?¡± She does anyway. Damien¡¯s face fills with alarm. ¡°Aster?!¡± It takes her a moment to realise that she¡¯s crying. The tears trickle down her face slowly, warm on her cheeks. Aster swipes at them hurriedly. ¡°No, its-¡° she sniffles pathetically. ¡°It¡¯s nothing. Really, nothing happened.¡± ¡°That doesn¡¯t look like nothing.¡± Damien¡¯s frowning, but there¡¯s no admonishment in his gaze; only worry. It makes something within Aster fissure, her tears growing heavier in response. Damien¡¯s hands are gentle on her face, careful as they wipe away her tears. ¡°Definitely not nothing,¡± he murmurs. Aster sniffs. Points again in Gerry¡¯s direction. ¡°I thought we were supposed to act like we didn¡¯t know each other in front of other people.¡± ¡°What, so I¡¯m supposed to act like I don¡¯t care that you¡¯re leaking tears in front of me right out of the blue?¡± Aster shrugs petulantly. She feels like a child. Damien pinches her cheek lightly. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Gerry won¡¯t tell. I have too much dirt on him.¡± Gerard rolls his eyes. ¡°Goes both ways, asshole.¡± ¡°Shut it, convict. I ought to hand you over to Her Majesty right now.¡± ¡°Like you would eve-¡° ¡°My lady!¡± Now it¡¯s Damien¡¯s turn to get shoved aside as Seraphina barrels into the room, dropping to her knees to kneel by the bed. ¡°Oh, thank Hale you¡¯re alright!¡± Her eyebrows draw together as she survey¡¯s Aster¡¯s face. ¡°My lady, have you been¡­ crying?¡± Aster draws her sleeve across her face. ¡°Oh, it¡¯s really nothing, please don¡¯t worry, Fina.¡± Inexplicably, Seraphina turns to shoot Gerard a murderous glance. ¡°Gerard Bates, what did you do?¡± ¡°What did I do?¡± Gerard looks appropriately offended. ¡°Why are you assuming that I¡¯m the reason she¡¯s crying?¡± ¡°How could I not when you¡¯re the one who assaulted my lady!¡± Gerard shoots Damien a dirty look. Damien shrugs innocently back. ¡°She deserved to know the whole truth. Anything less wouldn¡¯t have convinced her.¡± ¡°Yeah, but did ya tell her it was an accident?¡± ¡°An¡­ accident?¡± Disbelief drips from Seraphina¡¯s voice ¡°An accident?¡± She repeats, incredulous. ¡°You knocked my lady unconscious and dare to wave it off as an accident?¡± Aster¡¯s never seen her so furious. The sight is as touching as it is terrifying. Somehow, Gerard manages to remain unfazed. ¡°Look, Fina-¡° ¡°I told you not to call me that.¡± Gerard frowns. ¡°Oh, so she gets to but I don¡¯t?¡± Briefly, Aster wonders if this is what it¡¯s like to watch someone dig their own grave. When Seraphina speaks next, it sounds like it¡¯s taking all her effort not to sock Gerard right across the face. ¡°You are the most shameless, insufferable man I have ever known,¡± she seethes. Gerard smiles wanly. ¡°And you, remain the loveliest woman I have ever met.¡± Despite the dry tone of his voice, there¡¯s something about it that keeps him from sounding overtly cynical. More teasing, rather than snarky. It¡¯s bizarre enough for Aster to raise an eyebrow Damien¡¯s way. Damien gives a slight shake of his head, mouthing a small, later, at her. Meanwhile, Seraphina is silent. The look she gives Gerard is long and inscrutable. Finally, she turns back towards Aster, features stone set. ¡°My lady,¡± she says carefully. ¡°Please forgive me for this, but if I remain in the same room as the man for even a second longer, I fear that I may do something I will come to regret.¡± ¡°Oh. Uh.¡± Aster looks between Seraphina and Gerard, unsure of what to do. Damien, always two steps ahead and more adept at reading the room, rises to his feet. ¡°Come on, Gerry. Aster owes Miss Seraphina an explanation. The least we can do is give them some space.¡± Gerard looks at him flatly, unimpressed. Still, he gets to his feet. ¡°Fine,¡± he says succinctly, without so much as a retort. He leaves the room, Damien following behind a few paces. Damien glances back as he closes the door behind them, just in time to catch the grateful look that Aster throws his way. He winks back at her in return. The door clicks shut. With Gerard gone, Seraphina seems to untense, a semblance of her usual composed demeanour returning. It makes Aster wonder. About the history the two of them shared, and why exactly Gerard was able to throw the likes of Seraphina out of sorts, with just his mere presence. The windchimes over their head continue to tinkle merrily away, their melody filling up the silence. A sudden whiff of something putrid makes Aster wrinkle her nose. Oh, it''s still here. Damien''s comfrey concoction sits innocuously in its bowl, perched on the edge of the bed. Darn it. She should¡¯ve made Damien take it with him. Aster sets the bowl of comfrey on the floor, with all the care of an expert handling a volatile explosive. Then, she nudges it away with the tip of her foot, pushing it as far away as possible from her. Deeming it far away enough, she turns back towards Seraphina, ignoring the mildly amused way her maid is looking at her. Aster pats the empty space on the bed beside her invitingly. ¡°According to Damien," she says. "It seems like I owe you an explanation for something? Whatever that means.¡± Chapter 27: An Explanation Seraphina takes a seat beside her, hands folded primly in her lap. Compared to how animated she was moments earlier, she¡¯s more subdued now, gaze fixed on her hands. ¡°My lady,¡± she begins hesitantly. ¡°I- Please forgive me for my behaviour earlier. It was¡­ unsightly of me.¡± Aster shakes her head good-naturedly. ¡°I didn¡¯t think you were unsightly at all, Fina.¡± ¡°But¡­¡° Aster mulls over her next words, wondering if she has the right to voice them aloud. ¡°You don¡¯t seem to like him much,¡± she says finally, testing the waters. ¡°Gerard.¡± ¡°Well¡­ not exactly.¡± Seraphina sighs. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ difficult to explain, my lady.¡± Aster would be lying if she said that she wasn¡¯t curious. But does she even have the right to ask further, much less pry? Even if she and Seraphina have managed to get closer throughout Aster¡¯s stay in the palace thus far, is it to the point where they¡¯re now able to trade personal stories? Is Seraphina comfortable enough to speak about her own matters, rather than those of the palace and its people to Aster? And for Seraphina to be honest, wouldn¡¯t that require Aster to divulge more of herself as well? Aster¡¯s head is beginning to hurt, and not just because of her concussion. How on earth did one go about deepening friendships? Building rapport? The only person she¡¯s done any of that with had been Damien, and it took them years to get to where they are now. Maybe expecting familiarity from Seraphina so soon was asking for too much. Aster decides to backtrack. ¡°I¡¯m sorry if I¡¯ve overstepped,¡± she says. ¡°You don¡¯t have to tell me, if it makes you uncomfortable.¡± ¡°No, my lady, of course not. You haven¡¯t overstepped, I just¡­¡± Seraphina falters for a moment. ¡°It¡¯s just, I would hate it- if you knowing why would affect the way you perceived me.¡± It¡¯s the last thing Aster expects. She¡¯s worried about that? About what Aster thinks of her? Unsure, but still deciding to chance it, Aster rests a hand carefully over Seraphina¡¯s folded ones. ¡°For what it¡¯s worth,¡± says Aster. ¡°I don¡¯t think I could ever think ill of you, Fina. Not after all you¡¯ve done to help me. And if I¡¯m being honest,¡± she says, a small smile spreading over her face. ¡°I liked seeing you out of sorts for once. It felt like I saw a different side to you. Like I knew you slightly better than I did before.¡± Seraphina looks surprised, but not put off. It makes Aster feel brave enough to rest her remaining hand over the other, hoping that menial extra weight will be able to relay all that she cannot. ¡°I¡¯d like to know you better, Fina,¡± she continues. ¡°Not as the lady that you¡¯re serving, but as a friend. If that¡¯s okay with you, of course,¡± she tacks on hurriedly. Seraphina¡¯s gaze drifts from their piled up hands to Aster¡¯s face. ¡°I¡­ of course, my lady,¡± she says, almost dazedly. ¡°It would be an honour.¡± Aster beams, joy surging within her like a bubbling tide. ¡°Thank you.¡± She leans back, hands clasping together in her lap as her giddiness continues to course its way through her body. ¡°So¡­ it seems like I owe you an explanation about something. About what exactly, I¡¯m not too sure, since Damien wasn¡¯t able to explain the situation as a whole to me. But- yes, what can I tell you?¡± ¡°Oh, well, you see my lady¡­¡± Seraphina begins to launch into an explanation of the events that unfolded before Aster had woken up. About how she¡¯d been looking all over for Aster after hearing word from a page, detailing that she¡¯d never shown up for tea with the queen. How she¡¯d found Aster unconscious in Damien¡¯s arms, Gerard and him looking highly suspicious as they snuck around in the gardens like a pair of bandits. How Damien had used his magic on her when she tried to call for the guards, before immediately rushing them all to the magic tower. How she eventually calmed down enough to listen to Damien¡¯s explanation on how things ended up this way, and how they truly didn¡¯t mean any harm to Aster. How he¡¯d then cooked up a reason for Aster¡¯s absence at tea with the queen, before sending Seraphina off to deliver the message to Her Majesty herself. This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. ¡°What excuse did he come up with?¡± Aster asks curiously. ¡°He said to tell Her Majesty that he found you unconscious in the gardens, and to remind her of your weak constitution.¡± Ah, yes. Why hadn¡¯t she thought of that first? Aster¡¯s weak constitution. The little white lie she made her father spread around when she was younger, just so she could get out of attending social gatherings. The very same excuse that made it that much easier for him to keep her confined within the estate after her mother had passed, chalking up her absence in public to grief and illness. ¡°You¡¯re not actually sickly, are you, my lady?¡± Aster shakes her head ruefully. ¡°Never have been. Matter of fact, Damien says that I¡¯m too healthy sometimes.¡± A huff of a laugh escapes her. ¡°I think I might have to agree with him.¡± ¡°But being too healthy isn¡¯t a bad thing, no?¡± Aster raises her eyebrows at Seraphina, who humours her with a small smile. ¡°That¡¯s another thing I¡¯d like to ask you, my lady,¡± says Seraphina. ¡°What exactly is your relationship with Sir Damien?¡± ¡°Well¡­¡± Aster leans back on her hands. ¡°To put it simply, we¡¯re childhood friends. The story of how that came to be is rather long-winded, but the gist of it is: One day, when both of us were much younger, Damien showed up at the Vastein Estate, injured and with no place to go. My family decided to take him in, and the rest is history.¡± ¡°Did you know that he was a witch all along?¡± Aster nods. ¡°Some of the people in the estate knew too, but we kept it under wraps for the most part. Y¡¯know, for obvious reasons.¡± ¡°Certainly.¡± Seraphina looks deep in thought. ¡°No wonder so much of his background remained a mystery,¡± she mutters. ¡°I thought he was just playing it for sake of mystique, but it makes sense for him to keep it a secret for your sake as well as House Vastein¡¯s¡­¡± Her gaze flits back towards Aster¡¯s. ¡°So he wasn¡¯t lying to me after all, my lady? When he said that the two of you are friends?¡± Aster smiles. ¡°He¡¯s not just my friend. He¡¯s my best friend.¡± Seraphina seems to take a moment to digest this information. ¡°I see.¡± Aster thinks she sees her shoulders lower just the tiniest bit. ¡°I see,¡± says Seraphina again. ¡°No wonder he seemed so¡­ agitated.¡± ¡°Damien? When?¡± ¡°When I first found him and Gerard. He was the one who was carrying you while you had fainted, my lady. Even then, he seemed different from usual.¡± ¡°Different? How so?¡± ¡°Well, he just seemed much more¡­ overbearing? Rude? It felt like he was a different person compared to all the stories I¡¯ve heard about him thus far.¡± Seraphina frowns. ¡°I certainly didn¡¯t expect him to use his magic on me like that,¡± she mutters darkly. Ah. He must¡¯ve been pretty desperate then. Damien never uses his magic on people, if he can help it. ¡°You said he seemed different?¡± Asks Aster. ¡°What do you think he¡¯s usually like then, Fina?¡± Seraphina crosses her arms, gaze skittering away. ¡°Well, he often comes off as rather¡­¡± ¡°Rather?¡± ¡°¡­ frivolous.¡± Aster stifles a snort, urging Seraphina to continue. ¡°I don¡¯t have anything against him, but it¡¯s just-¡± When Seraphina sighs, it sounds long-suffering. ¡°When all the maids ever do is gush over him, it does get boresome after a while.¡± ¡°So you¡¯re not a fan?¡± Aster¡¯s more amused than anything else. ¡°I simply do not understand the fervour over the man, is all.¡± Aster¡¯s laughter bubbles out of her properly this time. ¡°He¡¯s not too bad,¡± she assures with a grin. ¡°There¡¯s a reason why he¡¯s so¡­ schmoozy sometimes with people, but please don¡¯t fault Damien for it. He¡¯s just doing his best to get along with others.¡± As much as Aster likes to poke fun at him whenever she catches him in the act of ¡®charming¡¯ someone, she understands why he does it. It isn¡¯t easy, being a witch. To have someone shape their entire judgement of you, only from a single facet of your being. Aster gets it. She really does. So in all honesty, she¡¯s a little envious of the ease in which Damien floats through social graces now, effortlessly pulling out smiles and honeyed pleasantries that have people falling like dominos. It¡¯s corny, but it works, and she wishes she could fake it as easily as he can. ¡°You speak of him rather fondly.¡± ¡°Do I?¡± Aster feels self-conscious all of a sudden. ¡°Well¡­ it¡¯s just, we¡¯ve been together through so much, y¡¯know? Honestly, I don¡¯t know what I¡¯d do without him.¡± Even if it¡¯s true, it¡¯s a little cheesy even to Aster¡¯s ears, and she has to resist the urge to cringe at herself. Thankfully, Seraphina doesn¡¯t seem to be put off by Aster¡¯s mushy sentimentality. But she does seem to be contemplating something. ¡°Well, I suppose I have no choice but to believe Sir Damien when he said that he¡¯d never do anything to hurt you,¡± says Seraphina begrudgingly. ¡°But that still doesn¡¯t explain how Gerard ended up knocking you unconscious. An accident, he says? His tongue is more forked than a serpent¡¯s.¡± Chapter 28: The One at Fault ¡°But¡­ I think he¡¯s telling the truth,¡± says Aster, even as Seraphina¡¯s brows draw together in disbelief. ¡°Although I guess he could¡¯ve been nicer about the way he worded things.¡± ¡°Evidently.¡± ¡°Plus,¡± says Aster. ¡°He¡¯s Damien¡¯s friend. I don¡¯t think Damien would be friends with someone who truly intended to harm me.¡± In the case that Gerard actually had it out for her, Aster has no doubt that Damien would be the one to deliver him straight to the castle¡¯s dungeons himself. The fact that he helped Gerard smuggle her all the way to the magic tower - even kidnapping Seraphina in the process - just to cover things up, meant that it truly had been an accident. If Aster hadn¡¯t been in such a frenzy earlier while trying to escape from the maze, maybe she could¡¯ve noticed Gerard and avoided the plank in time. If she was just a little more aware of her surroundings and not so caught up in her own head, maybe they could¡¯ve avoided this predicament altogether. In a way, Gerard was right. Aster really had knocked herself out, out of her own recklessness. ¡°My lady,¡± says Seraphina. ¡°You don¡¯t truly believe him, when he says that you¡¯re the one at fault?¡± ¡°Well¡­¡± Aster wraps her arms around her knees, huddling into them. ¡°If I hadn¡¯t entered the maze to begin with, I would¡¯ve never gotten lost, and then-¡° ¡°The maze?¡± Seraphina cuts her off mid-sentence, stunned out of propriety for once. ¡°My lady, you entered the maze?¡± ¡°¡­Yes?¡± ¡°May I ask why?¡± Aster wrings her hands together. ¡°Well, you see¡­¡± She begins to launch into an account of how she ended up running late for her meeting with the queen, her voice dwindling smaller and smaller as she continues. ¡°¡­ and then I remembered what you said about the maze helping people who were in a hurry, so I- uh, went in.¡± A beat of silence echoes between them. ¡°¡­I see,¡± Seraphina says eventually, voice terrifyingly even. Aster hears her exhale a small sigh. ¡°Then¡­ I am to blame as well.¡± ¡°No- Fina, of course not!¡± Aster turns on her indignantly. ¡°But if I hadn¡¯t told you about the maze, my lady, then you wouldn¡¯t have tried to use it as a shortcut and ended up getting lost.¡± ¡°But no one else has ever gotten lost in the maze. Unruly guests, yes, but none of the servants thus far, right? I was just¡­ unlucky this time.¡± Unlucky enough to get on the bad side of the nastiest spirit she¡¯s encountered yet, Aster thinks to herself darkly. Seraphina still doesn¡¯t look convinced. ¡°But-¡° ¡°Fina, if you¡¯re to blame,¡± rushes Aster. ¡°Then-Then we¡¯re all to blame!¡± She blurts, not quite knowing what¡¯s coming out of her mouth anymore. ¡°You, me, Gerard, and that nasty sp-¡° Aster stops short before she can out herself. Seraphina still doesn¡¯t know that she can see spirits, and Aster doesn¡¯t know if she¡¯s willing to divulge that bit of information just yet. Seraphina gives her a puzzled look. ¡°-and that nasty spider in the maze that scared me stupid!¡± Aster amends. ¡°If it hadn¡¯t spooked me so, I wouldn¡¯t have been in such a panic to get out of the maze to begin with! And we wouldn¡¯t be in this mess! So-¡± Aster leans in towards Seraphina. ¡°What¡¯s done is done, Fina. Rather than fixating over who is to blame, let¡¯s just think about what is to come. Like explaining this to Her Majesty.¡± Aster points damningly at the sore on the back of her head. Seraphina frowns, looking like she still has much to say on the matter of who exactly is at fault. But instead, all that comes out of her mouth is a begrudging, ¡°I suppose.¡± Aster eagerly steers their conversation away from the maze. ¡°It feels like it¡¯s large enough for everyone to see,¡± she says mournfully, prodding at the bump gingerly. ¡°Is it too obvious, Fina?¡± Stolen novel; please report. ¡°I can¡¯t even see it, my lady. But does it still hurt?¡± ¡°It still aches a bit, but not as bad as when I first woke up.¡± Aster places the now slightly melted icepack over her injury once more. The cloth wrapping the ice is thoroughly damp now, soaked enough to have left behind a wet spot on her skirts. Seraphina purses her lips thoughtfully. ¡°We have to treat it, my lady. Was the bowl you pushed away earlier a poultice of comfrey?¡± ¡°What bowl?¡± Asks Aster innocently. ¡°My lady.¡± Seraphina gives her a look. ¡°But it stinks! And it¡¯s gonna stain my hair.¡± Aster clutches at her hair protectively. She¡¯s encountered many stains in her life - thanks to a childhood of running amok on the Vastein grounds with Damien and numerous sparring sessions with her tutor ¨C so she knows better than anyone else that nothing stains quite as bad as comfrey. Nothing. Aster doesn¡¯t think herself vain, nor does she like her hair all that much, but having an awkward puke-coloured stain show on the back of her head for weeks is too much, even for her. There¡¯s a light knock at the door. Moments later, Damien¡¯s tan face peeks in. ¡°Ladies,¡± he says. ¡°I hate to interrupt, but it¡¯s almost dinnertime and I wouldn¡¯t want to keep you here for too long. Has everything been cleared up? No more misunderstandings? All explanations given? My innocence proven?¡± ¡°All good,¡± says Aster, while Seraphina gives a quick nod. ¡°Lovely.¡± He spots the bowl of comfrey on the floor, before levelling Aster with a bemused look.¡°Stubborn,¡± he sniffs. ¡°It¡¯s stinky,¡± says Aster extra maturely. ¡°And it stains.¡± ¡°We can wash out the scent and cover it with fragrance,¡± suggests Seraphina. ¡°And we can get you a hat for the stain, my lady.¡± ¡°Right?¡± Agrees Damien encouragingly, while Aster goes, ¡°Not you too, Fina!¡± ¡°You need to get your injury treated, my lady.¡± Aster flops back onto the bed with a groan. ¡°This is bullying.¡± ¡°That¡¯s a funny term for caring for one¡¯s health and safety,¡± quips Damien. Aster¡¯s jabs a finger in his direction. ¡°Quiet you.¡± She can practically imagine the amused huff that follows. ¡°Oh.¡± She lifts her head up to look at Damien once more. ¡°Where¡¯s Gerard?¡± ¡°He left.¡± Damien shuts the door behind him, crossing the room. ¡°Said he had business to take care of.¡± Out of the corner of her eye, Aster tries to catch Seraphina¡¯s expression. But her maid¡¯s face is impassive, if unimpressed. Damien plucks the bowl off the ground. ¡°Miss Seraphina,¡± he says cordially. ¡°Would you do me a favour and lend me a hand?¡± ¡°Certainly.¡± Aster watches in confusion as Seraphina takes both her hands in hers. ¡°I apologise in advance, my lady,¡± she says then, not a trace of apology in her voice. Aster¡¯s dread wells up like an awful, sticky tide as Damien begins to approach her menacingly, bowl held forth like he¡¯s brandishing a weapon. ¡°No, no, no, no.¡± Aster scoots back to no avail, held in place by Seraphina¡¯s vice-like grip. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, princess.¡± Damien grins, teeth like knives. ¡°It¡¯ll all be over soon.¡± ????? Aster tugs her cap further down her head. ¡°Are you sure it¡¯s not showing?¡± She asks again. ¡°Yes, my lady.¡± Aster spares Seraphina a brief pout through the mirror. Beside her is a smaller mirror Damien, face much too amused as he stands a safe distance away, hands around the now empty bowl of poultice. ¡°Your hat looks very nice on you,¡± he says. ¡°Shaddup,¡± says Aster. She gives the cap another firm tug over her head. It¡¯s a soft woolly thing, woven with threads of varying shades of blue and topped with the largest, fuzziest pom pom Aster¡¯s seen in her life. She can¡¯t imagine Damien wearing it at all. But he¡¯d probably look nice in it. Much better than Aster does now, at least. She takes another look at herself in the mirror, before huffing a sigh. ¡°We¡¯d better be on our way then,¡± she says, turning away to make for the door. Damien grasps her sleeve before she can leave. ¡°Hold on,¡± he says. He turns towards Seraphina. ¡°Miss Seraphina, would you please excuse us for a moment? I need to share a word with Aster.¡± Seraphina doesn¡¯t respond immediately, the look that she gives him measured. Knowing her, even with all of Aster¡¯s earlier assurances, she probably still doesn¡¯t trust him, much less warmed up to him. ¡°Fine,¡± she says after a moment, eyes darting between Damien and Aster. ¡°But make it quick.¡± She exits the room, not before giving Damien another warning look. Damien¡¯s face is bemused as the door clicks shut behind her. ¡°She doesn¡¯t like me much, does she?¡± He says. Aster shrugs back at him plainly, hey, I tried. Damien lets go of her sleeve, arms crossing in front of him. ¡°So¡­ do you want to talk about it?¡± ¡°Talk about what?¡± ¡°Aster.¡± Aster shrugs again, hand clasping over her forearm protectively. ¡°So you don¡¯t want to talk about it.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not that I don¡¯t want to it¡¯s just-¡° Every time she thinks about what happened in the maze, it¡¯s like all the blood in her body rushes straight to her brain. It¡¯s like her head is overheating while her body is freezing. ¡°-I don¡¯t know how.¡± When she dares to meet Damien¡¯s gaze again, she¡¯s met with familiar blue. Like sea glass and saltwater and afternoons in the highest maple tree, laughing like they didn¡¯t have a care in the world. And suddenly she feels like she¡¯s going to cry again. By some miracle - or maybe just sheer willpower and the fact that Seraphina is still outside waiting for her - Aster doesn¡¯t shed tears again. But her voice still tremors as she says, ¡°Florian¡¯s cheating on me.¡±