“Thank you,” Iris said, genuinely touched by the rare compliment. The gown, a soft lavender that deepened to purple where the light caught its folds, featured a delicate sheer overlay adorned with small glittering flowers. It was a touch simpler than high fae society strictly dictated, with fewer layers and embellishments than was fashionable, but Iris found it both comfortable and more aligned with her personal taste.
Her grandmother pursed her lips, then took a breath, but no words appeared to come to mind. Feeling the need to fill the silence, Iris said, “I’ve noticed that the social calendar in Bloomhaven follows a predictable pattern each season. Certain events are hosted by the same families year after year. The Whispermist Garden Party, the Rowanwood Masquerade that I hear is coming soon, the Charmed Leaf Music Recital that Lady Rivenna has mentioned.”
“Yes,” her grandmother said with a nod. “This is true.”
“Are there any events that our family traditionally hosts?”
Something flickered across the elder Lady Starspun’s face. “There was one,” she said quietly. “The Mirror Lake Dance.”
“What was that like?” Iris asked, genuinely curious.
Her grandmother’s gaze returned to the window, her gaze distant as if looking beyond the gardens of Starspun House to some memory from years past. “It was magnificent,” she said softly. “For one night each season, we would enchant Mirror Lake to achieve a perfect, glassy surface that reflected the stars above with such clarity that it seemed the sky existed both above and below.”
Iris found herself leaning forward, captivated by the wistful note in her grandmother’s voice—a quality she’d never heard before.
“Couples would dance upon the lake’s surface beneath the stars,” her grandmother continued. “Through the glass-like surface of the water, one could glimpse the luminous fish that dwell in the lake’s depths, trails of enchanted light flowing behind them. I would enchant the lake myself—coming from a family that traditionally manifests water-related abilities—while those from the Starspun line would create lanterns spun from threads of pure starlight, enchanting them to drift above the scene.”
“It sounds breathtaking,” Iris said, imagining the scene. “Why do we no longer host it?”
Her grandmother’s shoulders stiffened almost imperceptibly. “We simply could no longer afford it.”
“Perhaps one day,” Iris said quietly, “our fortunes will change.”
“Perhaps,” her grandmother answered with a small smile. She cleared her throat. “In any case—” she turned back to Iris with something clasped in her hand “—I came to find you because I thought perhaps you might like to wear these this evening.” She opened her palm to reveal a set of delicate hairpins, each tipped with tiny crystals that contained twinkling silver light. “They were passed down from your grandfather’s mother. Starlight captured in crystal during the height of winter. Even now, generations later, they retain their glow.”
Iris’s breath caught. “They’re beautiful.”
“They would complement your gown,” her grandmother said, moving toward the vanity. “If you would permit me?”
“I would be honored,” Iris replied, surprising herself with the genuine emotion behind the words.
Her grandmother gestured for her to turn back toward the mirror, and Iris felt the gentle pressure as the older woman began to insert the pins into her hair arrangement. In the mirror’s reflection, the tiny crystals caught the evening light.
“I know,” her grandmother began, her voice softer than Iris had ever heard it, “that we have not been close over the years.” Her fingers moved with careful precision, each pin placed with deliberate care. “I recognize that I have made little effort to reach out to you.” Iris remained perfectly still, hardly daring to breathe for fear of breaking this unexpected moment of vulnerability. “But I am pleased that you are here now,” her grandmother continued. “And I hope that perhaps we might get to know one another better during this Bloom Season.”
The words were offered stiffly, with the awkward formality of someone unaccustomed to expressing such sentiments, but Iris felt their sincerity nonetheless. She looked at her grandmother’s reflection in the mirror. The proud set of her shoulders, the careful composure of her features, the slight uncertainty in her eyes. “I would like that,” she said quietly.
Her grandmother placed the final pin, then rested her hands lightly on Iris’s shoulders. For a brief moment, their eyes met in the mirror, and Iris felt that she saw her grandmother more clearly now than she had before—not merely a calculating matchmaker, but a woman who had watched her family’sfortunes decline, who had lived with the gradual erosion of their standing in society, who now pinned her hopes on the granddaughter she barely knew. Though Iris had been put off by her grandmother’s scheming, she recognized that it came from a genuine desire to secure her family’s future. A legacy that stretched back generations, now resting precariously in Iris’s hands.
“There,” her grandmother said, stepping back. “They suit you.”
In the mirror, the starlight pins seemed to have brightened. Iris turned in her seat to face her grandmother directly. “Thank you,” she said as she stood, the words encompassing more than just the gift.
Her grandmother nodded once, her composure fully restored. “We should join your grandfather downstairs. The carriage will be waiting.”
Jasvian stood at the edge of the Thornharts’ garden, a glass of hummingfizz untouched in his hand as the evening festivities swirled around him. Faelights bobbed overhead, casting a dreamy glow across the expansive grounds where Bloomhaven’s elite mingled in their evening finery. At the center of it all loomed the infamous Thornhart maze, its hedges too high to see over, their deep green foliage occasionally rippling with magic.
From within the maze came peals of laughter and startled shrieks as the living labyrinth rearranged itself according to inscrutable whims, separating companions and creating chance encounters between those who might otherwise never speak, pathways widening or narrowing with no warning. Jasviansuppressed a shudder. The entire concept had never appealed to him in the slightest.
What had possessed him to attend this event? He rarely participated in the Thornharts’ annual maze soiree. The quarterly accounts ledger had arrived from the coastal property on the Fifth Isle and would have been far preferable company. But Hadrian had mentioned his intention to seek out Lady Iris this evening, and Jasvian had felt … concern. Yes, that was the appropriate classification for the unsettled feeling that had propelled him into his formal attire. Concern for his friend’s reputation should he continue to show such obvious interest in someone as unsuitable as Lady Iris Starspun. Nothing more. Certainly nothing to do with the way Lady Iris’s eyes lit up when she challenged him, or how the delicate scent of orange blossom lingered in the study long after she was gone.
Jasvian took a small sip of his drink, grimacing at the overly sweet flavor. The courtyard buzzed with anticipation as more guests arrived, many heading straight for the maze entrance where a footman was explaining the rules to newcomers. Jasvian planned to maintain a dignified presence at the periphery, have a brief word with Hadrian, and make a tactful exit before anyone could suggest he join the maze-wandering frivolity.
His attention shifted to the main house as a new group of guests emerged onto the terrace. His breath caught inexplicably. Lady Iris Starspun descended the steps into the garden, the glittering details of her lavender gown catching the faelight. Her dark hair was arranged elegantly with tiny flowers and what might have been starlight twinkling among the refined twists. For a moment, Jasvian found himself unable to look away.
He blinked and forced his gaze elsewhere, irritated by his own reaction. She was dressed well, that was all. Anyone would notice such things.
“Jasvian, darling,” his grandmother’s voice cut through his thoughts. “Come join us.”
