Reluctantly, he made his way to where his grandmother stood with Lady Thornhart, an imposing woman whose hair was coiffed to resemble the hedge maze itself, complete with tiny faelights woven through the elaborate structure.
“Lord Jasvian,” Lady Thornhart greeted him with a nod. “How delightful to see you this evening. I don’t believe you’ve attended our maze soiree in recent years.”
“I find myself with slightly more leisure time this season,” he replied.
“He means he’s been ordered to socialize more,” his grandmother translated with a pointed look. “The family estate will survive without his constant attention for a few hours.”
Lady Thornhart laughed. “Indeed! And perhaps you’ll venture into the maze tonight? I assure you, it’s perfectly safe.”
“I appreciate the invitation, but I’ll leave the maze navigation to those who find such activities entertaining.”
His grandmother’s expression softened, a rare gentleness replacing her usual sharp assessment. “You know my grandson has always preferred more intimate gatherings,” she said, patting Lady Thornhart’s arm. “You should see him in a small circle by the fire at Rowanwood House—positively loquacious by comparison.”
Well, he certainly wouldn’t have used the word ‘loquacious,’ but it was true that he found smaller gatherings far more comfortable.
Lady Thornhart’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “My dear Rivenna, one doesn’t get more ‘intimate’ than a narrow passageway where one is forced into conversation with someone one would never normally speak to! That’s precisely how I met my husband, you know.”
“Be that as it may,” Rivenna replied, “I rather doubt that’s the kind of intimate gathering Jasvian is looking for.”
Jasvian inclined his head in silent gratitude. He was thankful his grandmother hadn’t revealed the real reason he avoided the maze—his ridiculous, irrational fear of enclosed spaces that he’d never managed to overcome.
He opened his mouth, but before he could respond to either his grandmother or Lady Thornhart, his attention was caught by movement across the garden. Hadrian had approached Lady Iris and her grandparents. Even from this distance, Jasvian could see the warm smile that transformed his friend’s face as he addressed her. Worse still, Iris herself appeared to light up in response, her laugh carrying faintly across the garden as Hadrian leaned in to share some observation.
“Lady Iris seems to be settling well into Bloomhaven society,” Lady Thornhart observed, following his gaze. “Quite remarkable, given her unusual background.”
Jasvian’s grandmother made a noncommittal sound. “The girl has certain qualities that compensate for any irregularities in her lineage.”
No doubt Lady Thornhart had something to say to that, but Jasvian had ceased listening. Across the garden, Hadrian was now guiding Iris toward a fountain where cascades of liquid chocolate had replaced the usual water, flowing from tier to tier before collecting in a shimmering pool at the base. The enchantment cast a warm, honeyed glow across their faces as they approached, illuminating Iris’s delighted expression. Hadrian’s hand hovered respectfully near the small of her back without quite touching her. The ease between them was obvious, and Jasvian found himself gripping his glass with unnecessary force.
He excused himself from the conversation as politely as possible and drifted toward the edge of the gathering, hiseyes still tracking Hadrian and Iris. They appeared to be deep in conversation, their heads inclined toward each other. Iris laughed again at something Hadrian said, the sound bright and unaffected.
“Hardly appropriate,” muttered a voice nearby. Jasvian glanced over to see two young women watching the same scene with obvious disapproval. The two Brightcrest daughters, he realized. Ellowa and Mariselle. Their matching expressions of disdain were evident even in the soft evening light.
He turned away, uninterested in their petty gossip, and was relieved when Hadrian finally excused himself from Iris’s company, presumably to fetch refreshments. She remained where she was, her gaze drifting toward the maze entrance. After a moment of apparent contemplation, she moved toward it.
Without conscious decision, Jasvian found himself following, maintaining a discreet distance. She paused at the entrance, exchanged a few words with the footman, then stepped into the maze alone.
Jasvian approached slowly, still with no intention of entering. The hedges near the entrance were thin, and through their leaves, he could make out Iris’s lavender gown as she took her first hesitant turn.
“Lost already?” a voice called out, sharp with false sweetness.
Jasvian stiffened. Through a gap in the hedge, he saw Ellowa Brightcrest stepping into Iris’s path. Her younger sister Mariselle appeared behind Iris from another pathway, effectively blocking Iris’s retreat.
“Not at all,” Iris replied, her gaze moving from Mariselle back to Ellowa. “Though I hadn’t expected company quite so soon.”
“We saw you enter alone,” Ellowa said, toying with a strand of her golden hair. “How brave of you to venture in without an escort. One might almost mistake such behavior for impropriety.”
“I was simply curious about the maze,” Iris said. “And I hardly think I shall be alone for long, given the great number of people who have already entered this maze and are still wandering about its paths.”
Ellowa crossed her arms. “Curious indeed. But then, you’re quite the curiosity yourself, aren’t you? The half-blood girl who somehow secured an apprenticeship with Lady Rivenna.”
“A position that many full-blooded fae from respected families have sought for generations,” Mariselle added.
“Including yourselves, I presume?” Iris’s tone remained light. Jasvian had to admit he was impressed by the way she retained her composure despite the Brightcrest sisters’ continued provocations.
Mariselle’s laugh was brittle. “The Brightcrests have more dignified aspirations than shopkeeping.”
“Is that what you think the tea house is?” Iris asked. “A shop?”
