The Loewe estate, Lady Sophia and Aden’s ancestral home, dwarfed the meager Dondes estate in both size and beauty.

It also seemed more cheerful than the gothic architecture of the palace, an unusual splash of color in an otherwise barren sea of ice and snow. Crisp, vibrant winter blossoms spilled out from behind the wrought iron of the gate, a red-clad soldier minding the front amid a sea of guests.

It was an enchanting winter afternoon, bright and clear. Perfect for a party. Rey had been starched within an inch of his life, adorned in the most beautifully embroidered cloak he’d laid his eyes on in either life. The tailor had opted for a crushed velvet that matched his unusual eyes, etched with a glossy silver thread in the pattern of thorned roses. His trousers, fitted perfectly, were the same shade and unusually soft.

Rey wore them like armor, alone as he was in his carriage. He wished, not for the first time since they’d departed, that he’d thought to ask after Calvin to join him.

Then again, Calvin probably had better things to do — as did the King — and Rey would rather saw off his hand than ask for Aden to join him for a joint carriage ride to his sister’s naming day.

So alone he sat.

The carriage driver, a modest man with a proud face, took them around the line with ease. The guard hardly paused before they’d been waved past.

Thankfully, the staff of the estate seemed well-informed about Rey’s arrival, meeting him with outstretched hands and guiding him to Sophia’s chambers with little idle chit-chat. He'd hardly taken a breath since he’d arrived, running on instinct alone until he was folded into Sophia’s plush couch, watching a lady’s maid weave her golden hair in increasingly complicated plaits.

“It’s wonderful you could come,” Sophia said, with a pleasant expression on her poreless face. Her gown, an impressively deep blue, brought out the the depths of her irises. “You are just about the most enviable member of high society this season.” She shook loose of the maid’s insistent hands to flash Rey a real smile. “And lovely. It’s unfortunate you’re trapped in that dusty palace.”

Rey offered her a gentle smile back. He'd been so excited to see Sophia, but the others at her ceremony -- not so much. “I’m free to leave. I just don’t know many people.”

“You are? I’d heard rumors, but I thought they were exaggerated.” Sophia blinked her wide, hooded eyes. “That’s quite unusual for a concubine. Though I should have know Leo would rule differently, considering you’re here to escort me with his blessing.”

Rey froze. “Escort? I don’t know how…”

Sophia waved a hand. “You will walk in, look handsome and smell delectable. It’s all rather straightforward.”

Rey waited patiently for the staff to finish Sophia’s hair and touch up her small face with liquids and powders of all varieties. He knew it was nearly time when the servants picked up the pace with an almost frantic abandon, checking and double checking every pin, barrette and lace.

A few of the male servants gestured for Rey to stand and adjusted his ensemble and hair, dabbing puffs of white powder on his neck and collarbones. It was still a special sort of magic, to stand and not immediately want double over.

Rey held out his arm for Sophia, a mimicry of the manners he’d once watched in movies and read in books. They felt more natural than he thought, almost like muscle memory. She took his offer with a gloved hand, lose gold chains hanging from her dainty wrists.

“After you, my Lady,” Rey said, swallowing hard.