His expression fell. “I should go—” He gestured over his shoulder.
They stood awkwardly for a few moments, neither saying a thing.
Yvette cleared her throat.
Aristea ignored it.
“Are you staying long?—”
“Shall I escort you inside then?” he said at the same time.
They both laughed, and it seemed to ease some of the awkward tension between them.
Yvette cleared her throat again.
“You’ve been clearing your throat an awful lot, Yvette. Perhaps I should summon a priestess to examine you.”
“That won’t be necessary, your majesty. But your appointment… We cannot keep him waiting…”
Aristea had lingered too long. They said their goodbyes, and she didn’t express her wish that they’d see each other again, though the sentiment was on the tip of her tongue. They parted ways, and she risked one last look at him over her shoulder. He stood in place, watching her, and when he caught her errant look, he waved a hand at her. Her blush burned hotter, and she was grateful for the veil covering her face.
By the time she returned to her room, her skin was buzzing, and she felt her heart racing. She hadn’t even realized Jonathan was back at court. Was it really because of Heinrich’s death? She wished there’d been time to talk alone, but they weren’t teenagers anymore. No more time for secret meetings in the garden. As it was, she hardly had time for a morning stroll. But maybe they’d stumble upon one another in the garden. She’d like that.
Yvette fixed Aristea’s hair and smoothed the wrinkles in her black gown. Then, when she was primmed and prepped, they positioned her on her couch in her receiving room. Once more, the porcelain doll, prepared for empty greetings and statecraft. The duke arrived right on time, which was a point in his favor. Whether she liked it or not, she knew her mother well enough to know this was the preamble to a future engagement, and she might as well get a read on her potential future husband.
Duke Mattison was a handsome man, middle-aged with blond hair gone mostly silver. His neatly trimmed beard, the intentional choice of silk and brocade, and the jewels on his fingers marked him as a man of wealth.
He bowed low upon entry and extended his hand with a flourish.
“Your majesty. It is an honor to make your acquaintance at last.”
“A pleasure,” Aristea said, with a courteous bow. She wished she had Liane’s ability to slip out of fussy meetings. But she was forced to put on a polite smile and offer refreshments instead.
“Thank you for agreeing to see me. Your beauty is famed across the continent, and I couldn’t resist the chance to gaze upon you,” he said.
“I fear you’ll miss out on seeing my visage as I am in mourning for my late husband.”
He nodded. “I’m sorry for your loss. He was a great man.”
Maybe it was because of Jonathan’s earlier comments, but she winced.
Duke Mattison noticed and commented on it. “Am I wrong to think you’re not grieving your husband’s passing?”
“We shared many years together. That he died before we could start a family was tragic,” she said by rote.
“You do not have to pretend with me. In fact, I’d prefer if we were honest with one another. I’ve known many women who celebrated their husbands’ deaths. It gives a widow great freedom to choose her own path, don’t you think?”
It’d been presumptuous of him to comment on her feelings during their first meeting. Ruder still to push the issue. She wanted this meeting to end, but feared pushing for such would cause offense. So instead, she smiled coyly and said, “That is not typical of Neolyrian women, I’m afraid. It is traditional that we grieve a year and a day. Sometimes longer.”
The duke smiled as if she’d revealed something about herself. “Then I suppose it would be too forward to invite you to a party I am hosting at my rented home? You would be the guest of honor, of course.”
“I thank you for your offer, but it is against customs for a woman in mourning to attend gatherings.”
“And for her to entertain would-be suitors,” he said.
Aristea did not reply to that.
“You will be missed. Many influential dukes shall be there. I believe many of them were your late husband’s friends?”
