A Proper Courtship

Her father arrived four days later with her mother, two attendants, and the expression he usually reserved for unexpected expenses.

Sera met them without Alex at her side. She wanted them to hear her first as their daughter, before they began regarding her as half an international disagreement.

Her mother embraced her.

"You look well."

"I am."

Her father glanced around the drawing room.

"Then I don't understand why this has become complicated."

Sera folded her hands to stop herself twisting her ringless fingers.

"It became complicated when everyone decided I was getting married before asking me."

"You knew your responsibilities."

"I do. I also know I love Alex. I'd like you to hear both things."

Her mother sat down slowly.

Her father looked surprised enough to stop rehearsing his next objection.

Sera took the opportunity.

She told them about the six weeks, the choice Alex had promised her, and the wedding schedule. She explained that she wasn't threatening to abandon anybody. She was asking them to let her take part in her own life.

When her father began to answer, she held up a hand.

"Please. I've listened for twenty-two years. Let me finish this once."

He closed his mouth.

It was not an easy conversation. He worried about promises already communicated and people who would read an insult into a change. Sera worried too. That didn't make the wedding any less hers.

Alex joined them with Queen Eleanor after tea.

She sat beside Sera, close enough for their knees to touch, and supported everything she had said.

The queen acknowledged that the arrangements had moved ahead on the assumption that affection made consent automatic. Her apology was short and plain.

Sera's mother looked at the discarded schedule, then at her daughter.

"Did you like any of the dresses?"

"I haven't chosen a dress."

Her mother nodded, absorbing the distinction.

"Then perhaps, when you do, you might let me come."

Sera's throat tightened.

"I'd like that."

By evening the original betrothal and its fixed wedding date had been withdrawn by mutual agreement. The two royal households would explain that their children wished to undertake a voluntary courtship. Work on the border road and shared market would proceed separately.

Her father remained stiff over supper. But when Sera asked to travel home the next morning, he asked how long she wanted to stay.

The question was so unfamiliar that she needed a moment to answer.

"Ten days, perhaps."

"Very well."

It was a beginning.

At the carriage the next morning, Alex helped Rose arrange the poetry collection where it wouldn't be crushed.

Sera found herself absurdly reluctant to get in.

"It's less than a day's journey," she said.

"I know."

"Ten days isn't very long."

"No."

Alex's hand was warm around hers.

"You could be slightly less agreeable."

Alex leaned close.

"I shall miss you terribly."

Sera swallowed.

"Better."

Alex kissed her cheek because her parents stood only a little way away. Sera turned and kissed her mouth because she was tired of pretending that changed anything.

Her mother suddenly found something to examine in the carriage.

Alex laughed softly against Sera's lips.

The journey home felt longer than the journey out.

In her old bedroom, Sera unpacked the paint box, set the blue packet aside, and sat at the familiar window. The garden was unchanged. She was not.

She missed the study's window seat. She missed the sound of Alex turning a page.

The first letter arrived the following afternoon.

It began formally.

"Princess Seraphina, I should be honored if you would accept an invitation to walk with me at Ashford on Thursday."

Below, the handwriting grew less controlled.

"I have crossed out six descriptions of how quiet the castle is. None of them explained it properly. Your cup is still on the table. I can't seem to ask anyone to put it away."

Sera read the paragraph three times.

She replied with a ceremonious acceptance of Thursday's walk, then added that she had spent breakfast wanting to tell Alex something unimportant about the marmalade.

"I miss you," she wrote. "Even when absolutely nothing is happening."

On Thursday Alex arrived with lemon cakes and a bunch of blue cornflowers wrapped in paper.

They were shown into a drawing room with her parents. For fifteen minutes they behaved with such excellent manners that Sera almost couldn't stand it.

Then her mother suggested the garden.

They reached the bend beyond the windows before Sera turned into Alex's arms.

"Hello," she said against her shoulder.

Alex held her so tightly that she laughed.

"Hello, sweetheart."

The endearment warmed Sera in places the sunshine hadn't reached.

"You haven't called me that before."

"Is it all right?"

"You'll have to do it again so I can decide."

Alex kissed her.

Sera forgot to make a decision.

They spent the afternoon walking, eating the cakes, and talking about those unimportant things that had become impossible to keep to themselves. Sera showed Alex the kitchen steps. Alex sat where she remembered sitting four years earlier.

This time Sera sat beside her and held her hand.

"I wish I'd asked your name," she said.

"You were busy arguing with a housekeeper."

"Was I terribly impressive?"

"She did eventually let Lucy keep her job."

Sera leaned against her.

"I meant to you."

Alex turned and kissed her temple.

"Yes."

At her bedroom door that evening, Alex said good night, then remained holding her hand.

"When are you coming back?" Sera asked.

"Saturday, if that's welcome."

"Morning or afternoon?"

"Morning."

"Very early?"

Alex's mouth curved.

"As early as they'll let me."

Sera rose to kiss her. Afterward, somehow, they were still standing in exactly the same place.

"You ought to go," she whispered.

"You haven't let go of my hand."

Sera looked down.

"So I haven't."

She kissed Alex once more.

Rose came around the corner carrying fresh linen, stopped, and studied them with professional patience.

"If you wait much longer, Your Highness, you can simply stay until Saturday."

Sera hid her face against Alex's shoulder while Alex laughed.

She kept the cornflowers by her bed until every petal had fallen.