When Lysara returned from dance class the following afternoon, she found her mother waiting in the front hall with an expression of unmistakable satisfaction and an enormous bouquet of white roses and lavender cradled in her arms.
"I believe these are yours."
The flowers were so extravagant that Lysara almost laughed. Their perfume filled the entrance hall before she had even accepted them. Nestled amongst the blooms, secured with a length of silver ribbon, was a folded cream card.
She untied it carefully.
My apologies for the drama last night.
Pack an overnight bag.
I'd like to show you my home.
I'll collect you at eight.
— Daevyn
She read the note twice.
An overnight bag.
She looked up to find her mother watching from the doorway to the sitting room with entirely undisguised curiosity.
"Well?" Elowen prompted.
Lysara folded the card with rather more care than was strictly necessary before tucking it back amongst the flowers.
"He wants to show me House Vale."
For a heartbeat, Elowen simply stared.
Then her smile became positively radiant. "Oh." It was remarkable how much expectation one small syllable could contain.
“Just… Don’t get too excited,” Lysara cautioned as she gathered the flowers into her arms. “Things are not decided yet.”
“They aren’t?” Her mother frowned, her eyes going to the door of her father’s office. “I was under the impression that the legalities were under way. I have already started a guest list…”
“Mum,” Lysara groaned, wincing. “We’ve been out once. Met three times.”
“We’re Fae, darling.” Her mother trailed her towards the staircase. “That is how we do things. Do you not… like him?” She was baffled by the possibility. “I thought I saw a… a spark between you.”
Her parents had been watching through the window when Daevyn had kissed her—Lysara grimaced.
“I like him,” she told her mother firmly. “And there definitely is… something.” Was it the bond? Oh, she was so confused. Even now she felt something… Something magical. “But I don’t want to make the wrong choice. I want to be sure.”
“Be sure,” her mother repeated. “Well, perhaps tonight will help.”
“Perhaps,” Lysara murmured. “I should go get ready.”
The perfume of the flowers filled her bedroom as she searched for a crystal vase amongst the ornaments on her dressing table.
She arranged the bouquet carefully before reading the note once more.
Pack an overnight bag. I'd like to show you my home.
Her heart picked up a beat. Did it mean what she thought it meant. Was she to spend the night in Daevyn’s bed? Did she want to?
Hell yes, she did.
Would his family be home? How strange it would be to share their evening meal, and then retire to his room with them all knowing what would follow… She didn’t want to think about it.
What to wear? She crossed to her wardrobe and drew out the small travelling case she normally used for weekends away with her parents. Packing should have taken no more than a few minutes, yet she found herself standing before the open wardrobe with a dress draped over each arm, entirely unable to make a decision.
The pale blue seemed too innocent.
The dark green too formal.
A simple black robe, one she had always liked, suddenly appeared terribly sensible.
She laughed quietly at herself.
The problem, she realised, had very little to do with dresses.
Without invitation, Aurora drifted into her thoughts.
Silver.
She remembered the way the singer had shimmered beneath the lights at the club, every movement catching the eye as naturally as breathing. Even standing perfectly still, she had possessed the sort of effortless glamour that seemed impossible to imitate.
Lysara frowned.
It was absurd to compare herself.
She had no desire to become Aurora.
And yet, somewhere beneath that sensible conclusion lingered the uncomfortable memory of watching Daevyn kiss her behind the embroidered screen at Niava's wedding, of seeing Aurora strike him only the previous evening, of hearing Kaethriel quietly remind her that duty and affection did not always walk hand in hand.
Almost without thinking, she returned all three dressed to their hangers.
Perhaps, just this once, sensible was precisely what she did not want to be. She went to the human side of her closet, and pulled out a dress she had picked up the year before for a New Year’s Eve event. It was figure-hugging black velvet, with intricate black and red beading that caught the light with a lovely shimmer.
She lifted it from the wardrobe and held it against herself before the mirror.
Not silver.
Not dazzling in quite the same way.
But it sparkled.
A small smile touched her lips.
"There," she murmured to her reflection. "You can sparkle too."
She waited until the doorbell rang before leaving her room, allowing one of the servants to answer it. Only after she heard the front door open and the Daevyn's voice drifting through the hallway did she begin her descent.
He looked up.
Satisfaction was immediate.
His conversation with her father simply... stopped. He stood watching her descend the staircase, and by the time she reached the final step, there was something distinctly unfocused about the expression in those remarkable green eyes.
"Good evening," she said, unable to prevent the smile that found her lips.
It took him another heartbeat to answer. "Good evening." His voice was hoarse, and she wasn’t imaging it, she thought, pleased.
He crossed the hall towards her, offering her mother and father the expected courtesies before stopping in front of Lysara. For a moment he simply looked at her, and she found herself absurdly pleased that he seemed to have forgotten whatever greeting he had intended.
"You look..." He gave a small shake of his head and laughed under his breath. "Beautiful."
“Shall we?”
Lysara laid her hand upon his offered arm and allowed him to lead her towards the waiting Aston Martin.
She really ought to have known better.
The front door had scarcely clicked shut behind them before Daevyn changed direction, guiding her backwards until the cool metal of the car met her back. A gentleman might have opened the passenger door first.
An UnSeelie Lord, it seemed, had rather different priorities.
He stood close enough that there was nowhere sensible to retreat, one hand resting lightly against the roof of the car beside her head while his remarkable green eyes travelled over her with a concentration that made her pulse quicken.
"Lysara..."
Her name emerged almost as a sigh.
His free hand settled lightly against her hip, the velvet yielding beneath his fingertips. Slowly, almost thoughtfully, his hand glided upwards, following the line of her waist until it curved around her ribs. The intricate black and crimson beading shimmered beneath the porch light as his thumb traced its pattern, the span of his hand reminding her all at once how much larger he was than she.
"This dress..." His voice had grown rough with restraint. "Is really quite unfair."
His fingers closed gently, drawing her the final inch towards him while his other hand rose to cradle her jaw. It settled beneath her chin with effortless confidence, guiding her face upwards until she found herself looking directly into his eyes.
She could feel the strength held in those elegant hands.
He did not grip hard.
He did not need to.
The knowledge that he could have done so made the gentleness all the more intoxicating. Somewhere beneath the steady composure she fought to maintain, her heart fluttered wildly, and from the faint smile that touched his mouth she suspected he knew it.
"Oh," he murmured, amusement warming the desire in his voice. "This is going to be entertaining."
Lysara managed to arch one eyebrow.
"Is it?" she asked. "Because at the moment it appears to be nothing more exciting than my parents' front porch."
A quiet laugh escaped him.
"An entirely fair observation."
Reluctantly, he stepped back and opened the passenger door for her. As she settled into the leather seat, he leaned across to fasten her seatbelt. His sleeve brushed her arm, his hand lingering just a fraction longer than necessity required.
"Most gentlemen begin the evening with a kiss," she observed as his face hovered only inches from hers.
"Do they?"
His eyes lifted to meet hers, bright with unmistakable mischief.
"I've always been rather fond of tradition."
He bent and brushed his mouth across hers, his kiss lingering only long enough for the graze of his teeth to catch her lower lip. When he withdrew, she found herself following him without thinking, only to realise from the satisfied curve of his mouth that he had anticipated precisely that reaction.
She laughed in delight. "Tease."
Daevyn's response was more breath than word, his head bowing as his mouth found hers again. The kiss deepened almost immediately, all the careful restraint that had governed the evening dissolving beneath the warmth of her lips. His hand slid from the small of her back to her waist, drawing her firmly against him until the velvet of her dress brushed the fine wool of his coat. For one intoxicating moment she forgot entirely where they were, her fingers finding his lapels as though she intended to pull him impossibly closer.
He broke the kiss first.
A quiet, rueful laugh escaped him as he rested his forehead briefly against hers.
"We're still standing in your parents' driveway."
"So we are."
"I had intended to begin this evening with considerably more dignity."
"I'm rather glad you failed."
His smile lingered as he stepped back, though the heat remained in his eyes. "Come," he said softly. "I have something I'd very much like to show you."
The Aston Martin slipped silently away from the Ashwyn estate, leaving the suburbs behind as the roads grew narrower and the trees closed in around them. Conversation came and went with easy familiarity, interrupted as often by comfortable silences as by words. Lysara found herself watching the changing landscape through the window, wondering where precisely he was taking her, until the sealed road gave way to gravel beneath the tyres.
Eventually the forest opened into a broad clearing.
Luxury vehicles stood scattered beneath the towering pines as though abandoned without a second thought. An immaculate Bentley rested beside a weathered Land Rover, a Porsche gleamed beneath moonlight beside another Aston Martin, their polished bodies looking strangely out of place amongst moss-covered stones and wild ferns. It resembled the world's most expensive forgotten car park.
Daevyn switched off the engine.
"This is where we get out."
He retrieved her overnight case from the boot before offering her his hand. She accepted it without hesitation, allowing him to lead her towards what appeared to be nothing more than a perfect circle of pale mushrooms growing amongst the pine needles.
The moment they crossed its boundary, the glamour dissolved.
The forest shimmered gently around them.
Where there had been only empty woodland a heartbeat before, an ancient stone arch now stood, its surface carved with climbing roses, bare winter branches and delicate snowflakes so finely worked that they seemed almost alive. Frost glittered within the carvings although no frost touched the surrounding earth.
Lysara smiled.
She had crossed between the realms countless times over the years, yet the old magic never quite lost its ability to astonish.
Daevyn rested one hand against the stone and spoke quietly in the Old Tongue. The unfamiliar words rolled effortlessly from his lips, carrying the quiet authority of a language that had shaped kingdoms long before humanity had raised its first cities. Silver light awakened within the carvings, flowing through the stone like moonlight beneath ice.
"The Winter Court," he said simply.
Mist filled the archway.
He took her hand again.
The change was immediate.
Winter air rushed around them with a crisp bite that stole her breath. Snow lay thick upon the ground beyond the gateway, the sky above brilliant with unfamiliar stars. Lysara shivered involuntarily as the warmth of the Human Realm vanished behind them.
A carriage with the Vale crest awaited them. As they settled within Daevyn lifted a heavy sable fur from where it waited the carriage and wrapped it around her shoulders. His hands disappeared beneath it as he drew it closed across her chest, lingering perhaps a moment longer than was strictly necessary. The warmth of his palms seeped through the velvet of her dress, and when she looked up she found him watching her with an expression that caused her pulse to quicken once again.
"I think," he murmured, "It will be a very interesting evening."
He leaned down and kissed her again.
The carriage, the waiting coachman, the frozen forest—all of it disappeared for the space of a heartbeat. His mouth possessed hers with quiet certainty, his hands still beneath the fur at her waist, his thumbs stroking over the fabric. She answered him without hesitation, rising instinctively towards him until another quiet laugh escaped against her lips.
"If I continue," he said softly, "we shall never reach House Vale."
"I begin to see the difficulty."
"So do I."
He offered her his hand once more and helped her into the waiting carriage before taking the seat beside her. The horses started forward almost at once, their hooves muffled by fresh snow as the carriage rolled deeper into the Winter Court.
"Am I to meet your family tonight?" Lysara asked as the forest drifted past the carriage windows, great black pines slipping silently between pools of moonlight.
"Not tonight."
There was a note of satisfaction in Daevyn's voice that made her glance up.
"I've shared enough of your time already. I thought, for one evening at least, I might keep you to myself."
The admission warmed her unexpectedly.
She smiled down at the sable wrapped around her shoulders, smoothing the impossibly soft fur between her fingertips. "I would like that."
However, Kaethriel’s words the night before caused her to hesitate. “I hope that your family… approves?” She added tentatively.
"My mother—very much so,” he replied, his eyes on the scenery. “Father, not so much."
"He objects?" Her voice was sharp on the words.
"He has... reservations." His pause told her there was more behind the answer than he intended to say.
"Because I am not noble?"
"Because you were not his choice.” He corrected mildly as if they were discussing the weather and not their marriage. “He had his own plans for me. One I did not care for—"
"The Feywoods."
His eyes returned to hers, faint amusement brightening them. "Someone has been talking."
"A little."
"The arrangement with House Feywood was not a bad one, it just also wasn’t a good one." His tone remained remarkably even. "And I did not care for the girl. Another, was proposed, and an arrangement agreed.” His smile was tight and wry. “With Kaethriel.”
"Ah.” She murmured for lack of any other response.
“Mhm. There was talk of her marriage to Sterling ending, and it would have been a sound political arrangement, before all was revealed. After that…” He shrugged. “Sterling and I became business associates, so I guess a marriage of sort did result from the negotiations,” he added with a chuckled.
“Will your father… cause trouble?” She asked warily. “I presume we will be living at the family estate after our marriage. It may become an uncomfortable living arrangement if he does not come to accept me.”
“He’ll come round.” He leaned forward and placed his hands on her knees, looking up at her earnestly. “You do not need to be anxious, Lysara. I will be a good husband, and will manage my family. My father will come around before the wedding. He is already half way there. It is just pride that holds him in reserve. I told him," Daevyn continued quietly, "that this was my life and my marriage. And I would choose the marriage that best suited me."
She searched his expression, trying to judge whether he regretted that decision. The certainty in his voice left very little room for argument.
"I hope he doesn't blame me," she said after a moment.
"He doesn't."
The answer came without hesitation.
"And my mother is delighted. I suspect she's already planning the wedding."
“We should introduce the mothers,” Lysara laughed, the last of the uncertainty easing from her shoulders. “For mine is doing the same.”
“We will have to do that,” he agreed, but his eyes had returned to the window. “Ah. We have arrived.”
Outside, the snow-covered forest gave way to open ground. In the distance, lights shimmered through the winter darkness like fallen stars, and beyond them, rising above the frost-laced landscape, she caught the first glimpse of House Vale.