I must interject, the notebook’s script cut across her unfinished sentence.The gentleman in question was discovered on the precipice of kissing his dearest friend’s betrothed. What precisely was he meant to do? Remain in Bloomhaven and make awkward conversation over tea?
Iris stared at the words, a flush rising to her cheeks. When framed that way, Jasvian’s abrupt departure made rather more sense.
Even so,she continued stubbornly,to break my engagement would devastate Lord Hadrian, who has shown me nothingbut kindness and respect. It would ruin my family financially. And it would confirm every whispered suspicion about my unsuitability for society. So what am I to do?
I believe the more pertinent question is: Can you truly pledge your life to one man while your heart belongs to another?
Iris set down the quill and pressed her trembling hands to her face. That was indeed the question that had been keeping her awake night after night. She had tried so desperately to convince herself that she could grow to love Hadrian—that admiration and respect might eventually bloom into something deeper. But each passing day made the self-deception harder to maintain.
Every time Hadrian smiled at her, she found herself comparing it to the rare, transformative smile that occasionally graced Jasvian’s usually stern features. When Hadrian took her hand, she remembered the electric awareness that had coursed through her at Jasvian’s slightest touch. And whenever she and Hadrian engaged in pleasant, agreeable conversation, she couldn’t help but long for the mentally stimulating exchanges she shared with Jasvian—those sharp, witty volleys of words that challenged her intellect and sparked her imagination.
She lifted the quill once more.Even if I were to end my engagement, there’s no guarantee that Jasvian would
That Lord Rowanwood would what?the notebook prompted when she paused for too long without completing the sentence.Return your affections? Overcome his excessive devotion to duty? Cease running away at critical junctures?
Yes. All of that.
Perhaps not. But that isn’t truly the point, is it?
Iris frowned.What do you mean?
The question of whether to marry Lord Blackbriar should not hinge upon whether Lord Rowanwood might offer for you instead. It should rest solely on whether you can, with clearconscience and true heart, pledge yourself to a man you do not love.
The words seemed to hover on the page, demanding her attention, refusing to be ignored or dismissed. She read them again, then a third time, feeling their truth settle deep within her chest like a physical weight.
It wouldn’t be fair to him,she finally wrote, her hand moving slowly across the page.Hadrian deserves someone who loves him completely. Someone whose heart doesn’t belong elsewhere.
Indeed. And what of you? What do you deserve?
Iris blinked, taken aback by the question.I … I don’t know.
Then perhaps that is something worth considering.
Iris lowered her quill and stared out at the night sky. The moon had shifted position, casting new shadows across the garden below. A streak of light flashed across the velvet sky—a shooting star. Her breath caught as she watched it disappear beyond the horizon. She thought suddenly of the first magical star charts created by her distant ancestor, of the legacy that stretched back through generations of Starspuns.
Then her mind turned to the tea house, to everything Lady Rivenna had offered her. It was true that Hadrian had not asked her to give up her apprenticeship, but she knew that residing at the Blackbriar country estate would inevitably slow her progress, reducing her presence at The Charmed Leaf to occasional visits. Hadrian believed she could manage it from a distance, perhaps eventually employing others to handle the day-to-day operations when Lady Rivenna eventually passed the establishment to her care.
But the thought filled Iris with a profound sadness. She didn’t want to be detached from something she imagined would become so central to her life. The tea house wouldn’t truly be hers in the way she longed for it to be—present, immediate, alivebeneath her hands and guided by her developing magic. It would be a possession rather than a calling, and the realization struck her with unexpected force.
In that moment, Iris knew what she had to do. Tomorrow, she would speak with Hadrian. She would return his ring and free him to find someone whose heart was truly his to claim. And then, regardless of whether Jasvian ever returned her feelings, she would reclaim her own future—one guided by truth rather than expectation or fear.
Iris closed the notebook gently and returned to her bed. The timebloom’s petals had shifted to a deep indigo, marking the hour far too late for proper rest before dawn. Yet as she settled against her pillows, she felt a strange peace descend upon her for the first time in days.
Tomorrow would bring difficult conversations and painful consequences. Her decision would disappoint her family, might devastate Hadrian, and would certainly set Bloomhaven society abuzz with fresh scandal.
But for the first time since accepting Hadrian’s proposal, Iris felt truly certain of her course. She would not build her life upon a foundation of obligation and pretense. Whatever came next—whatever future unfolded from this decision—at least it would be one she had chosen with clear eyes and an honest heart.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Morning sunlight dappledthe Starspun garden, casting golden patterns through the leaves of ancient oaks and carefully tended magical flowering vines. Beneath a pergola draped with climbing roses that emitted a different scent each day, Iris sat across from Hadrian on a delicate wrought iron bench. Her maid, Brenna, maintained a respectable distance at the garden’s edge, pretending great interest in a patch of shimmering dragonsbreath flowers while still fulfilling her duties as chaperone.
“I must say, your note was a delightful surprise,” Hadrian said, his smile warm and sincere. “I had only expected to see you later today when you joined Mother for tea to discuss the wedding arrangements.”
At the word ‘wedding,’ Iris felt her stomach clench painfully. She had dispatched a messenger pixie to Hadrian’s residence the moment her grandparents had departed for their morning promenade, believing Iris to be safely ensconced at The Charmed Leaf. The deception weighed heavily upon her, adding yet another layer to her already substantial guilt. They would have to be told the truth soon enough, but Hadrian deserved to hear it first.
“I’m glad you could come,” she managed, her voice emerging steadier than she’d feared it might.
“I would have come at midnight had you asked,” he replied, his earnest devotion making her chest ache with remorse.
