Damien shrugs back at her easily. “It’s fine. If anyone asks, I’ll say that I’m taking you on a tour around the magic tower, courtesy of Han.”

“Are we actually going to the magic tower though?”

“Yep.” Damien’s expression turns amused, taking in the way Aster instantly brightens up. “I figured it was the first thing you’d want me to show you.”

“You know me too well, Sir Apprentice.”

She grins, pointing towards her left ear. “By the way, I like the earrings.”

She’d noticed them last night; the small silver ring and shining violet stud glittering in Damien’s left ear lobe.

“Thanks,” says Damien. “Makes the blood and tears worth it.”

“You cried?”

“Just a tear. Or maybe two. Yeah, yeah laugh it up,” Damien says dryly as Aster does exactly that. “You’re lucky you had your ears pierced when you were a baby. Shit hurts to Hale.”

“I’m surprised you even got piercings. Never thought you were interested.”

“You’re right; I wasn’t. But then Han wouldn’t stop bugging me about it. So eventually I gave in, only to end up with two left piercings and an ear infection that lasted three months.” Damien winces at the memory. “But anyway, I see that I’m not the only one who’s changed up their look.” He taps his collarbone. “You’re not wearing it anymore. Your mom’s necklace.”

Aster’s hand flies up to her throat subconsciously. “Ah. Yeah, the chain broke in the carriage while I was on my way to the palace. I haven’t had a chance to find a way to fix it.”

“That sucks.” Damien frowns. “Feels weird to see you without it.”

“Feels weird to be without it,” Aster agrees.

“If you haven’t found anyone to fix it yet, you can always pass it to me.”

Aster raises a surprised eyebrow at him. “You know how to fix lockets?”

“’Course I don’t. But Han sends me on errands to town pretty often. It’d be easy enough to find someone who can fix your necklace for you.”

“Then I’ll gladly take you up on your offer.” Aster beams at him. “Thanks, Damien.”

“Anytime, Lady Vastein.”

Before Aster can protest the use of her title again, they pass by the gardens, where a middle-aged man is tending to the rosebushes. Beside him is a younger boy with rosy cheeks.

“Mornin’ Chev, Puff,” Damien greets cheerily.

“Hiya Damien! Morning!” The boy calls, while his mentor nods Damien’s way.

As they make their way to the magic tower, a similar pattern occurs with every person they meet. Damien never fails to greet every single one of them, whether it’s the scholarly looking man with a stack of files clutched to his chest or the young girl hefting a basket wrapped in checkered cloth, Damien never fails to greet every person they pass by.

A wave, a wink, a chirpy hello!

The response he gets in turn is just as warm.

“Back to your old tactics I see,” Aster teases once no one else in sight.

“If it works, it works.” Damien shrugs gamely back at her. “Someone’s gotta do the people pleasing; me namely, because Han is the exact opposite of damage control. But it’s fine. I’ve had plenty of practice back at the estate.”

“Ah yes, your sure-fire method of helping the maids with the laundry. A timeless classic.”

“It hasn’t failed me yet,” Damien agrees, grinning at her crookedly. Aster rolls her eyes.

As he leads her past another turn, Aster finds herself slowing her steps. The path beneath their feet is white paved stone, just like most of the other paths on the palace grounds. But unlike the rest, this path is inlaid with sections of glass-tiled mosaics. A sliver of shining sun. Waves of turquoise and emerald sea. Geometrical patterns made of gleaming obsidian and glittering violet squares.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” Damien says, picking up on her wonder. “Almost makes the near heart attack Han gave the financial advisor worth it.”

“Was it pricey?”

“It was, but Han footed the bill for the mosaic work himself.” Damien stops to point at one of the art fixtures: a swirling torrent of triangles in every imaginable shade of blue. “Have you noticed how the edges of all the mosaics are cracked? Almost as if they’re there to fill in breaks in the path?”

Aster nods.

“Well that’s because they are. Han literally busted the path himself once it was first finished, just so he could fill out the cracks like this. Claims that it makes everything look more organic.”

“I… see.” Aster casts a long look at the mosaic-laden path. She isn’t sure about organic, but she has to admit that the effect is rather charming.

“Pretty sure ol’ Heathrick was about to burst a vein when he saw Han going to town with his pickaxe.” Damien whistles, sounding as amused as he looks.

“Something tells me that breaking castle property for aesthetic purposes isn’t the most groundbreaking thing your mentor’s done.”

“You’re absolutely right,” Damien agrees without pause. “Tells you a lot about the kind of education I’ve been receiving.”

As they continue down the path, a faintly sweet scent begins to waft towards them. Her feet stutter to a halt on their own as the entrance to the tower appears into view.

For one breathless moment, Aster looks up, taking a second to marvel at the entirety of the building.

The magic tower is a magnificent spiralling thing, made of shining white stone capped with glittering blue tiles. From here she can just barely make out the faint imprint of runes and symbols embedded in the tower’s walls, their patterns seeming to continuously shift before she can take a proper look. Ivy creeps over the walls, accentuating rather than obscuring, the perfect backdrop to the medley of flowers on full display. Morning glories hang their trumpet shaped blooms to relish in the winter sun while wisteria creeps from arched windows, dripping their lavender petals down the overhang. Along the walls near the entrance is an intricate lattice of brilliant red roses, the perfume of their lush flowers beckoning visitors closer.

“Magic?” Aster guesses. It’s the only explanation for how these flowers could bloom so beautifully in the middle of winter.

“Magic,” Damien confirms. “But it’s also just Han showing off. Plant magic is something of his forte.”

“I see.” She hasn’t even taken a step inside yet, but it’s as if the mere air surrounding them is already saturated with it. 

Magic.

She can’t help but feel giddy. As if picking up on this, Damien turns to her with a grin. “Come along, princess. The tour’s just begun.”