Iris suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. She didn’t bother reminding them that Lord Jasvian had been the one to offer insult first with his contemptuous remarks about her heritage and magic.
“Young Lord Ellendale has shown interest,” her grandfather said, “and while his family’s standing isn’t what it once was, an alliance there could prove mutually beneficial.”
“The boy barely manifested last season,” her grandmother countered with a dismissive wave of her gloved hand. “His magic is hardly impressive.”
“As if Iris’s paper folding puts her in a position to be selective,” her grandfather muttered.
Iris felt a flush creep up her neck, but she kept her expression carefully neutral.
“We should encourage connections with at least three promising candidates,” her grandmother declared. “The Blackbriar heir, certainly, if an opportunity presents itself. Perhaps young Wintervale, despite his mother’s insufferable pretensions. And I still maintain the Broadbank second son has potential. He may not inherit the estate, but his moonstone investments are reportedly quite successful.”
“Very well,” her grandfather agreed with a short nod. “But do remember, we cannot appear desperate. The Starspun legacy demands a certain standard be maintained, even in difficult circumstances.”
Her grandmother’s lips curved into a tight-lipped smile. “Of course, my dear. Dignity above all else.” Then she raised her voice, calling out, “Lady Titterleaf.” She lifted a hand in greeting to a woman whose extravagant skirts billowed with countless silk flowers that swayed with magical life. “How delightful to see you.”
“And you as well, Lady Starspun,” the woman replied, her gaze flicking curiously to Iris. “I see you have your granddaughter with you today.”
“Indeed. She is in our care for the season,” her grandmother said smoothly. “Now that her parents have seen her settled here, they have returned home, as was always the arrangement.”
Lady Titterleaf nodded, though her expression suggested she was mentally cataloging this information to dissect later with her circle of friends. Iris had no doubt she would hear this news repeated to her through the whispers of the tea house tomorrow. “How thoughtful of them to see her safely delivered. And how are you finding Bloomhaven, my dear? I understand you’ve secured quite the unique position with Lady Rivenna Rowanwood?”
“I am honored by Lady Rivenna’s interest in my abilities,” Iris replied, the words feeling stiff on her tongue despite her best efforts to sound natural.
“Quite remarkable,” Lady Titterleaf said, her lips forming a smile that didn’t reach the calculating gleam in her eyes. “And to think, everyone had quite given up hope that she would ever select an apprentice at all. I’m sure she has much to teach you. Though I’m certain your grandparents have explained that such an apprenticeship should not distract from your primary purpose this season.”
Iris felt a gentle but warning squeeze on her arm from her grandfather. “Lady Rivenna has been most accommodating,”he interjected smoothly. “She understands perfectly the importance of social engagements during the Bloom Season.”
The conversation continued for another few minutes, touching on the weather, upcoming events, and thinly veiled gossip about a young lord who had apparently fallen into Mirror Lake while trying to impress a group of ladies.
They had just bid Lady Titterleaf farewell when two garden pixies tumbled through the air in a fierce tussle over a sprig of wildflowers. Their aerial battle spiraled downward, ending with both plummeting directly into a muddy patch created by the nearest fountain’s overflow. The impact sent a splash of dirty water arcing toward Iris, who gasped and raised her arms instinctively to shield her face.
“Disgraceful!” her grandmother scolded the pixies, who hung their muddy heads in shame before zipping away. She turned back to Iris with a critical eye. “Thankfully, your face remains unblemished, but your gloves have suffered the consequences of their foolishness.”
Iris turned her hands over and examined the delicate white lace, now marred with several brown splotches. “I can hardly continue to wear these in such a state,” she said, slipping off the soiled gloves with a small grimace. She folded them carefully to contain the mess and tucked them into her reticule. “I’ll have them cleaned later.”
Her grandmother eyed Iris’s bare hands with poorly disguised dismay. “To be seen without gloves … Well, I suppose it can’t be helped. Do try to keep your hands folded demurely, at least.”
Iris sighed inwardly.Oh wonderful, she thought.Yet another mark against my already questionable suitability for Bloomhaven society.She was about to reassure her grandmother that surely this minor breach of etiquette wouldn’tcause the social apocalypse she seemed to fear, when another voice called out.
“Lord and Lady Starspun! Good morning to you both.”
Iris turned to see a tall, broad-shouldered young man approaching, accompanied by an elegantly dressed older woman and a girl who appeared to be a little younger than Iris. It took Iris a moment to place the man—the friendly stranger from the pegasus races that she had quite literally run into.
“Lord Blackbriar,” her grandfather replied, inclining his head as Iris’s grandmother nudged Iris a little too sharply in the ribs with her elbow. Ah, yes, she was reminding Iris that this was one of the suitable young lords she was meant to make a good impression upon if the opportunity presented itself. “Lady Blackbriar, Miss Willow,” her grandfather continued, completing his greeting. “A fine morning for a promenade, is it not?”
“Indeed it is,” the young man replied, his smile warm and genuine. His gaze settled on Iris, and recognition flickered in his eyes. “And this must be Lady Iris. I believe we had a brief encounter at the races, though we were not properly introduced. I’m Hadrian Blackbriar.”
The name stirred something in Iris’s memory, and she realized why his voice had seemed vaguely familiar when she nearly collided with him at the races. This was the same man she’d overheard conversing with Lord Jasvian on the terrace at the Opening Ball. Her guard rose instantly, though if she recalled correctly, he hadn’t joined in Lord Jasvian’s disparaging comments about her magic.
“A pleasure to meet you properly, Lord Blackbriar,” Iris replied with a small curtsy, keeping her expression neutral.
“The pleasure is entirely mine,” he said, his smile widening. “Your name has been upon everyone’s lips since your arrival inBloomhaven, Lady Iris. I’ve been most eagerly anticipating the opportunity to make your acquaintance myself.”
There was something that Iris found immediately likable about his open demeanor. Unlike most of the fae nobility she’d encountered in Bloomhaven, his friendliness seemed entirely without calculation. The introductions continued, with Iris learning that Hadrian’s sister, Willow, was expected to make her debut next season.
“I understand you’re apprenticed to Lady Rivenna,” Lord Hadrian said as the conversation flowed. “How extraordinary. My mother was just remarking how unprecedented such an arrangement is.”
“Lady Rivenna has always been rather …” Lady Blackbriar paused, seemingly searching for an appropriate word, “progressive in her associations.”
