The next day, Aster finds herself summoned to the queen’s personal sitting room right after breakfast.

The room is tastefully decorated, with plush carpets and elaborately stitched tapestries depicting wildlife and flowers and constellations and spirits. The fire in the central hearth blazes merrily away, suffusing the air with a pleasant warmth. Just like the first time they met, Aster sits across from the queen and makes it a point to keep her back as straight as possible. 

“How do you find the castle so far, Aster?” The queen asks cordially, dressed in an elegant dress the colour of wine. 

“It’s been lovely, Your Majesty. Everyone’s so accommodating, and there’s still so much of the palace I haven’t seen yet. I’m looking forward to seeing it all.”

“That’s good to hear.” She smiles at Aster brightly, only for her expression to turn a notch dimmer. “My dear, I’m terribly sorry about Flynn’s behaviour thus far. As his mother, I am absolutely appalled.”

“Please Your Majesty, you have nothing to be sorry for,” Aster says hurriedly. “It’s really not your fault.”

“Then please, take it as an apology on Flynn’s behalf.” She places a hand on her cheek with a sigh. “I don’t understand why he’s acting like this when he’s betrothed to a girl as lovely as you. If only he’d take a second to get to know you better.”

“Well, there’s still a year to go until we’re officially wed; and then the rest of our lives after that.” Aster forces herself to inject some cheer into her words. “Plenty of time to get to know each other.”

“I suppose.” Queen Annaliese smiles faintly. “I hope this isn’t too much of me to ask, but I do hope that you can give Flynn some time. He’s really an incredibly sweet boy by nature. It’s just… he seems to have changed a little, ever since his brother’s passing.” Her Majesty’s expression turns bittersweet at the mention of her late son. “But I know that deep down, he’s still the same gentle person that he’s always been.”

Aster’s mind dredges up the image of Florian’s frosty expression, words so cold they practically stung. 

“Of course, Your Majesty.” She offers the queen her sweetest smile. “I’d like to get to know Prince Florian for the person he truly is deep down, as well.”

The smile that she gets makes her partial lie worth it. “Thank you, Aster,” Her Majesty says, brightening up. “Right, I called you here for another reason as well, my dear. I’d like to schedule tea with you every week.”

“Tea, Your Majesty?”

“Yes, tea!” She beams, clearly delighted by the mere thought of her favourite indulgence. “Well, it wouldn’t be just tea. We’ll hold important conversations together at the same time of course, as well as discussions on various matters. I’d like to make your assimilation into your role as future crown princess as smooth as possible, and I think there’s much I can share with you about my own experiences. What do you say?”

This was the last thing that Aster could have expected. “I’d be extremely honoured, Your Majesty,” she says, still mildly in shock. “Thank you.”

“The pleasure is all mine, my dear,” the queen flutters, a literal ray of sun. Once more, Aster’s brain spits out that memory of Florian: prickly, cold, distant, and tries to draw comparisons with the radiant, angelic being in front of her. 

Could it be true? Could Florian really share more with his mother than just their physical attributes? Did Damien’s claims of him being a decent person actually hold water?

“Really, I’m so happy to have someone accompany me for tea,” Queen Annaliese continues, blissfully unaware of Aster’s inner turmoil. “Solomon and Flynn are always too busy, and Callista’s been disappearing on her own often these days. Tea just tastes so much better with company.”

Aster smiles back at her warmly. “Your Majesty, I’d gladly accompany you for tea anytime.”

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

On her way back from the queen’s quarters, Aster only loses her bearings twice. Considering the sheer size of the palace, she considers even that a feat of its own.

Now following what she’s certain is the right way back to her room, Aster finds herself back at the walkway with the wall of portraits. She stops in the middle of the path, right in the centre where the largest of them are hung.

The royal family stares back at her, King Solomon stone faced and solemn as he sits on a plush settee with Queen Annaliese by his side. The queen looks forwards with a serene smile on her face, her youngest daughter perched on her lap. Flanking the royal couple are the princes, Florian standing at attention by his mother’s side while his brother Rael stands beside the king. 

It must have been painted before the Crimson Fever. It’s the only way to explain Prince Rael’s presence in the portrait. 

There’s something inherently gentle about the late prince’s expression; a sort of thoughtfulness on his face that belies a quiet strength. Aster thinks the artist who painted this must have been highly skilled, to be able to convey such subtleties through mere strokes of paint. The king’s stoic air. Queen Annaliese’s cheery warmth. The princess’s sweet curiosity. 

Aster pauses on Florian’s face, and almost snorts.

He’s barely smiling in the portrait, almost looking like he was forced to pose for the painting. But there’s something about the Florian in the portrait, even with the stubborn set to his mouth and the childish steel in his eyes. Something that reminds her of the boy she’d met six years ago, rather than the one she’d recently stumbled into in the wrong garden at the wrong time. 

The sound of conversation floats over from the end of the walkway as Aster turns idly to see who it is.

To her surprise, it’s Damien. 

Damien, who’s flanked by a pair of maids. In front of them float several baskets of laundry, clearly buoyed with the help of some handy magic. But the two girls accompanying Damien have their attentions elsewhere, perfectly entranced as they hang onto his every word.

Aster can only imagine what he’s prattling on about. A snippet of what he was up to away from the castle? Descriptions of the darling village children he educated with Han? An account of all the orphaned baby animals he’s saved in his lifetime? Hale knows the kinds of nonsense that boy makes up on the daily. 

Her gaze flits towards Damien’s face, and all of a sudden she’s turning away hastily, an incredulous laugh threatening to sputter right out of her.  

Dear Hale, he’s gotten way too good at this. 

Utterly winning. There’s no other way to describe the smile that graces his features, perfectly practiced and dripping with charm; the picture perfect mask Aster’s witnessed him fashion all throughout their childhood, now polished to a shine. 

She keeps her face turned away, attention seemingly caught on something on the floor below as the trio begin to approach. Their conversation lulls to a pause, the maids falling into a stilted silence once they notice Aster on the landing. 

They pass by her swiftly. Damien does not call out to her, nor does he make any indication of even noticing her there. Aster rests her palms on the banister and pretends to watch several servants below scuttle by in a hurry.

Only when the trio has made it to the other end of the walkway does Aster dare to sneak another glance at their backs. She has to smother the the giggle that bubbles up in her throat. 

How funny. It's amazing, what a year in the palace can do. 

She turns away, gaze trailing over the remaining portraits hanging on the wall. The first portrait in the row catches her attention: the very same one she'd noticed during her first morning in the palace. Of the twinkling man with golden hair and kind eyes. 

“Sorry.” 

Aster startles as Damien’s voice brushes against her ear, accompanied by the remnants of a breeze. It's an old trick of his; using the wind to carry his voice. But after a year of growing used to his absence, hearing it now manages to take her by surprise. 

The second message breezes past her ear in seconds. 

“Meet me in front of the east entrance in half an hour? It’s the entrance closest to your quarters.”

Like she could send him a response in return even if she wanted to. Aster scoffs to herself, turning away to make the trip back to her room. It seems like inspecting the rest of the paintings will have to wait for another day.

Damien’s lucky she’s so accommodating.