“And if I cannot?”
“You can, and you shall.” She squeezed his shoulder. “Perhaps they will reside at the Blackbriar country estate after they are wed, which will make things easier for you. They need not return here during the Bloom Season.”
“Perhaps I shall be the one to never return.”
“Oh, do stop being dramatic.” His grandmother’s tone sharpened again. “You are not the first person to lose someone to their own stubborn foolishness, nor shall you be the last.”
“I cannot lose her.” The words emerged as barely more than a whisper.
“You already have.” She sighed. “Jasvian, dear, the time for realizing your feelings was weeks ago, before Lady Iris accepted Lord Hadrian’s suit. Now, you must move on.”
Jasvian closed his eyes, remembering the way Iris had whispered his name, how close he had come to tasting her lips. “I am such a fool.”
“Yes,” his grandmother agreed. “But a lovable one, despite your best efforts to be utterly insufferable. And perhaps now that you’ve finally learned to unlock that fortress you call a heart, there may be room for another to one day step in.”
Jasvian shook his head, a bone-deep certainty settling over him. “For me, there will only ever be her.”
He stared out the window at the night beyond, where the dark clouds had finally begun to drift away, revealing a sky newly washed clean, dusted with brilliant stars. How fitting, he thought bitterly, that the storm should pass just as his world collapsed around him.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Iris staredat the timebloom on her bedside table, watching as its petals shifted from silver to the softest blue, informing her that it was well past midnight—the third consecutive night she had found herself still awake at this hour.
She turned onto her other side with a frustrated sigh. Sleep evaded her like a mischievous sprite, dancing just beyond her grasp whenever she came close to capturing it. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Jasvian’s face, felt the warmth of his breath against her lips, heard again the whispered confessions that had nearly shattered her resolve.
Everything you feel, I feel a hundredfold. You haunt my dreams, my every waking moment.
He had left Bloomhaven the very next morning. No farewell. No message. Simply gone, returned to the northern mines with barely a word to anyone, according to Rosavyn. Iris had no notion of when—or if—he might return.
A week had passed since that rain-soaked almost-kiss in the garden. Seven days of smiling politely as wedding plans unfolded around her, her duties at The Charmed Leaf now significantly reduced. Seven days of accepting congratulations from society matrons who had previously snubbed her.Seven days of her grandmother’s triumphant satisfaction, her grandfather’s relieved pride. Seven days of Hadrian’s attentive devotion.
Seven days of absolute misery.
Iris pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes, willing away the tears that threatened, then lowered them with a groan. The ornate pearl-and-diamond ring on her finger caught the timebloom’s glow, scattering faint pinpricks of light from the diamonds as she turned her hand this way and that. The beautiful ring felt heavier each day, a physical manifestation of the guilt that weighed upon her heart.
Iris …
She turned with a huff and stared at the ceiling, trying to banish the memory of Jasvian's voice—the way he had whispered her name that night in the garden, each syllable caressed with an intimate reverence.
No. She was engaged to Hadrian.Hadrian.Proper, kind, consistent Hadrian who looked at her with such genuine admiration. Who was not deterred by the discovery of her family’s financial distress. Who believed she would make him happy.
Iris sat up in bed, pushing away the tangled sheets. The thought of Hadrian only intensified her guilt. How could she pledge her life to one man while her heart yearned so desperately for another? When Hadrian spoke of their future together, she smiled and nodded while her mind wandered to dark hair and stormy eyes, to the scent of rain and the whispered confession:Every minute away from you is agony.
She climbed out of bed and moved to the window, gazing out at the moonlit garden below. Somewhere beyond Bloomhaven, Jasvian was likely working even at this late hour, poring over mine repair reports or reviewing estate accounts, finding comfort in the orderly procession of numbers that neverdisappointed, never complicated matters with inconvenient feelings.
With a heavy sigh, Iris turned from the window. Beside her bed, the timebloom shifted, its petals darkening toward deep blue. The third hour past midnight approached, and still sleep eluded her. She crossed to her writing desk, retrieving her notebook and a quill before returning to the window seat. The silvery moonlight spilled across her lap as she drew her knees up and rested the notebook against them.
If anyone might offer clarity, it would be the acerbic, opinionated notebook that had become her unlikely confidant. She turned to a fresh page—resolutely ignoring the urge to pause over any pages where Jasvian’s elegant script appeared—and began to write.
I cannot sleep. My thoughts race like startled deer through a forest, never settling, never finding peace.
The notebook’s script appeared immediately beneath her words:A rather flowery metaphor, but accurate, I suppose. Though I’d have gone with ‘panicked hummingbirds’ myself. More frantic energy.
Despite everything, Iris found herself smiling.Ever the critic.
Merely offering editorial suggestions. One does strive for precision in language.
She hesitated, her quill hovering above the page before she wrote:I find myself wondering what would happen if I broke my engagement to Lord Hadrian.
