The second banquet was a more relaxed affair than the first. Introductions had already been made and appropriate thanks given so all formal obligations had been met. After the duke’s arrival the room readily split into groups.

The vast majority of the knights reveled in the food and wine that seemed to flow without end. The nobles, high ranking knights, and a few influential merchants and artisans spread out in smaller groups of four or five. Some were idly gossiping, but most were working to make connections and gather information.

Amaryllis gave a longing glance to the knights who were taking part in a drinking competition. The servants struggled to keep up with the rowdy men and the near endless number of empty glasses that needed refilling. The knight laughed and cheered and teased each other, rapidly becoming drunk. Some were swaying, some slurring, but all were smiling. There was no doubt that they were enjoying themselves.

She struggled to pay attention to the conversations her father was having. Tonight, she was merely a shadow hovering one step behind him. Only visible when one looked and easy to ignore. Her active participation wasn’t required. However, she couldn’t look bored or distracted either.

These early conversations were mere formalities so it was hard for her to feign interest. Her father used them to remind those in attendance that he was the host and that he only had time for them when he chose to. Those who later got invited to speak with him privately over a glass of his favorite liquor would feel smug, and likely be boastful about it in the coming nights. If someone annoyed him, their rival was almost always guaranteed one of those positions to gloat.

Those private conversations were not for her ears. Or Veronica’s. Perhaps Romello would be invited towards the end of the social season after they left for the capital, but she doubted it would be any sooner. Her brother was clever, but he was also still a tad innocent. Too trusting.

Besides, he would be better off establishing connections among his peers. Not every young man he met would be an heir, but second and third sons could still become powerful allies depending on how they chose to live their lives.

Romy was already on good terms with the vassal’s sons, but that was a given. He was set to be their lord, and they had a tendency to flatter him. She wasn’t entirely sure he was aware of how much insincerity was in those words and that worried her. Meeting those of differing ranks and influence would be good for him. She hoped he made friends, but she also hoped he honed his skills for reading people.

Their father had mastered that skill long ago. She always marveled over the subtle shifts in his greetings in response to cues she missed. Amaryllis knew that some of it was influenced by information that came from his aides, but keeping all of that information straight was also a skill.

She could remember the faces of the important attendees. That wasn’t too difficult. Though their names started to become jumbled after the tenth new introduction of the night. No matter how hard she tried she got them mixed up. If she remembered at all. The only benefit of being a silent shadow over her father’s shoulder was that she was saved from the embarrassment of revealing how many of those names she’d forgotten.

After two tiresome loops around the room, she was dismissed. Amaryllis did her best to remain a demure and meek daughter to hide the elation she felt at finally escaping. She had thought she was used to being an observer, but this week of festivities was much harder to endure than usual. The revelry was difficult to be around when she had someone who she wished to enjoy it with, or at least get to watch enjoy it.

Amaryllis glanced at Sir Vincent briefly before she parted, but he did not turn to watch her leave. She did her best to wrangle her doubts into submission and didn’t look back as she left the banquet hall. That would only draw attention. And, if he didn’t show up later, that glance backwards would only add to her humiliation.

Sneaking out again was easier than she thought it would be. Amaryllis had never been one to break rules. The twins did enough of that and she didn’t want to give her father more reasons to be disappointed in her. Usually, the thought of disobeying made her gave her gooseflesh and a cold sweat, but meeting Sir Vincent didn’t elicit that response.

Perhaps it was because she had been using her magic to move around the castle unnoticed for a few months now. Not to go anywhere she wasn’t supposed to, but to avoid the watchful eyes of the servants that always left her mildly unsettled. There’d been no real risk once she’d mastered the cloak. And since she was walked around as usual even if her magic failed she wasn’t doing anything inherently suspicious to those who reported back to her father.

But that practice had given her more confidence than she’d realized. After confirming the halls were empty, she left her room with head held high and no hesitation in her steps. Her full trust in the cloak that hid her in the dark.

Amaryllis cracked the side door and peaked outside. The back garden was bathed in pale silvery light from the full moon. At the edge of the garden, she could see a figure leaning against the tree she had chosen the night before.

She doubted he’d be waiting so openly if someone was nearby, and considered walking straight to him. However, her confidence faltered and prudence won out. She double checked the nearby paths, but saw no one.

She dropped her shadow cloak before leaving the annex. No need to make Sir Vincent suspicious. She stepped out into the garden and closed the door softly behind her.

The quiet made her feel nervous, and her lack of a shadow cloak added a layer of vulnerability too. She took a few slow steps towards Sir Vincent before giving into the urge to hurry over. Whether it was nerves at getting caught or excitement at seeing him, it didn’t matter. Her steps were hastened either way.

“You got here first,” Amaryllis smiled and tried to appear calm, as if she hadn’t scurried over to him like an excited puppy.

“I didn’t want to keep you waiting,” he held out his hand and she took it.

Instead of leading her like an escort he let their arms fall, naturally pulling her forward to walk beside him. Amaryllis didn’t know what to say. No one had ever hurried to meet her before, or held her hand like this. Both filled her with delight and a smile tugged at her lips. She gave his hand a squeeze, idly running her thumb over his knuckle and forefinger.

She could feel his warmth in his hand and in his arm that lightly brushed against hers as they walked to their clearing. The prolonged contact was new, but not unwelcome. She found it pleasant and wondered what it would be like to have his arm wrapped around her shoulders or waist instead.

They finished the walk to the log in silence. Sir Vincent didn’t relax his grip on her hand and she found herself holding on as well. Neither wanted to let go. Instead, they sat side by side, just far enough apart for their clasped hands to rest on the log between them.

“What will you tell me about today?” Amaryllis smiled up at him, and he returned it with one of his own.

“I was thinking of telling you about my favorite set of ruins I visited,” he raised an eyebrow as if to ask if that was something she was interested in.

“Why are they your favorite?” Amaryllis couldn’t help but immediately lean closer, unable to contain her curiosity.

Ruins were the last remnants of the empire. The places that had been abandoned to nature and time after corruption had ravaged them. Most were beyond recovering. With new cities and towns spread elsewhere across the continent only treasure hunters went to them now.

“They’re beautiful,” Sir Vincent explained. “Most ruins are eerie with how quiet they are. Like the ghosts of the dead are still haunting the place even though they’ve been purified long ago. Or the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end and you know some monsters are watching, hidden in their layer. But this place is different.”

“The buildings were made from these thick white stones and were mostly in one piece. About eight of ‘em still standing. The grounds within the walls were full of fruit tress and where there wasn’t trees there were flowers blooming. It was easy to imagine what it had looked like before everything had grown out of control.”

He paused and a fond smile pulled at his lips.

“Bees and butterflies and tiny birds were everywhere. There was a constant hum in the air. That was the first place I’ve been where nature had turned it into something so . . . vibrant.”

“What kind of flowers and trees were there?” Amaryllis asked, thinking of the many rare varieties that adorned her father’s garden.

“There were peaches, apples, pears, cherries, and figs. I’m not sure about the flowers,” he rubbed his chin. “Not something I’ve ever learned. A lot were wildflowers. Some roses, irises, tulips I think.”

He trailed off and Amaryllis fought back a giggle. To see this intimidating knight fumble over flower names was rather absurd. He must have never strolled through a garden with his lovers before to be this clueless. She thought about teasing him, but he snapped his finger before she could come up with anything clever.

“Wisteria,” he grinned. “That’s what it was. The dryads had covered the place in the stuff. They loved how the purple looked against the white stones and it hid away the ruins they wanted to keep out of sight.”

“What?” Amaryllis stammered, mouth wide in surprise. “I thought dryads were monsters. Why are you talking as if-”

“I did too, but they’re not. They’re elementals.”

Amaryllis’s eyes went round with shock. Elementals were said to be spirits with close ties to nature. They could wield powerful magic within the element, or elements, they were born from. There were a few stories of them forming pacts with humans to lend them power when the circumstances were right. Unlike other living beings, they were almost never corrupted. Some legends even said it was impossible.

“Elementals? So, dryads are elementals,” Amaryllis murmured. “I thought they were all gone, or just myths.”

“I did too. They’re rare, but they’re still around. Hidden as best they can be,” Sir Vincent tapped his finger on the log. “Luckily Idris knew that and stopped me from doing anything rash.”

“Idris?”