The words deflated something delicate within her. “Oh,” she said, unable to mask the disappointment seeping into her frown.
“They wish to honor you, Nin. For your service, your bravery… everything you’ve done for the crown. They’ve decided to grant you an honorary title—a ladyship in your own right.”
Nin blinked. “A… ladyship?” One hand found purchase over one of the upholstered chairs, tightening around the edge of the backing. “So… they wish to gift me with a gilded cage of my own?”
A flicker of hope burned behind his spectacles as he took a step closer. The span of the rug still divided the space between them. “It doesn’t have to be a cage.”
Her breath caught as she locked onto his unwavering regardfilled with an emotion she dared not name.
“I know it’s not what you were hoping for,” he went on quietly, “but it’s not a ladyship in the traditional sense that you’ll be required to parade yourself at court or have any duties thrust upon you.”
She rubbed a thumb along the edge of the box, bracing herself from the anticipation climbing up her throat.
“It’s an honorary title,” he explained, “not of station, but of service. You are still free to live your life as you see fit.”
His eyes met hers, searching.
“It means,” he said, his voice wavering, “That you are protected. The court may not question your status, and you may choose whom you spend your time with freely.”
Nin’s mouth parted, the realization dawning on her like the first rays of brilliant light gracing the world with its splendor.
A crack appeared in his composure, small but unmistakable. “There would be no scrutiny, or judgment,” he said, his voice dipping tenderly as he closed the tentative space between them. “No whispers of impropriety. Only… choice.”
She stared at him, unable to speak. Her mind was scattered like wild birds in the wind until his words wrapped around her, offering a warm embrace.
“Choice?” she repeated, searching his face. The usual distance, commandeered by duty and protocol, was absent. Instead, she found only tenderness in his softening expression.
“And you?” she whispered. “Have you made yours?”
He took another impossible step closer—so near his heat washed over her. He reached for her free hand, a slight tremor in his own.
His thumb brushed over the back of her fingers with quiet reverence. “I have,” he said.
Nin swallowed thickly. A thrill prickled her skin at his touch. “And?” she asked, needing to hear the confirmation from the source. To have no misunderstandings between them.
A faint, almost-smile touched his lips. He reached into his pocket. Sunlight streamed through the curtains, illuminating the delicate gold chain and its small, shimmering teardrop pearl.
Nin’s heartfluttered.
“It’s an heirloom,” he said.
Her breath caught in her throat at the sincere, unspoken promise in his eyes. Smoothly, he stepped around her, sweeping the stray tendrils of hair from the back of her neck. Goosebumps prickled over her skin as he clasped the necklace.
“I would be honored to properly court you,” he said as he took her hands into his.
The hearth crackled low, embers sparking between them.
"If you would have me," he whispered.
Her surroundings dissolved into a blur as his intense gaze and the pressure of his hand became the only thing that mattered. A gentle heat warmed her chest.
This was it—the moment she had both longed for and believed impossible. It was more perfect than she could have ever imagined. There was no pressure to conform, no scrutiny, or a request to disguise her true self. This was an offering in its purest form. It was something she could return with her whole heart.
Nin set the box on an end table beside her. Her fingers brushed his wrist, trailing up the length of his sleeve until they settled over his chest. His heartbeat sped beneath her palm—strong, but patient.
“Yes,” she said softly. Her voice was steadier than her stuttering pulse. “Nothing would make me happier.”
Then she rose on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his.
