He looks different now; but that much is a given. It’s been six years after all. Six years, and yet that boyish charm still stubbornly clings to him, evident in the curve of his cheek, the upward slant of his eyes. His auburn hair is dishevelled, like he’s just finished running his hands through it.

“Aster Vastein,” Prince Florian Klars says, words escaping him in a hushed whisper. The moonlight limns his eyes a silvery brown, the colour of frost touched pine.

Aster stares back at him dazedly. It takes her a second to remember how to string her words into sentences. “Oh, uh, yep. That’s… me.”

This wasn’t how their reunion was supposed to go. Not with him walking in on Aster in her nightgown and slippers while she dances around the garden and flirts with the bushes.

Oh Hale, had he seen all that?

“You’re not supposed to be here,” Florian says.

“Ah, yeah, I thought as much. I’m really sorry that you had to find me out here in the gardens-“

“You’re not supposed to be in this castle,” Florian cuts in. And only then does Aster notice the chill in his voice. The hostility that outlines his features.

“What are you talking about?” Aster clutches her cloak tighter around herself. “Of course I’m supposed to be here. Your family invited me to stay in the palace until our wedding.”

“What do you mean my—” He stops short, clearly coming to the answer himself. He presses a hand to his temples, like he’s suppressing an oncoming headache. “Of course. Mother. It has to be,” he mutters. “Always doing as she likes.” He drops his hand with a bone-weary sigh. “Look, I don’t know what you expect from me, but just… don’t.”

“Don’t what?” Aster wishes she’d grabbed something warmer. The chill that claws its way over her skin feels like it might just cut through.

“Don’t expect anything from me.” Florian’s words hang in the air like icicles. “Not warmth, not affection, and certainly not… love. Because I for one, don’t expect any of that from you.”

“But you invited me here.” Aster’s voice is quiet. She’s afraid that if she’s any louder, he might hear the way it quavers. “You asked me to come.”

Florian’s expression remains unmoved. It hurts more, somehow. To see him apathetic, rather than angry or disdainful.

Like he can’t even be bothered to care.

“Lady Vastein, I didn’t even know you were coming. And frankly, I never wanted you to.”

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

Aster wakes up the next morning feeling perfectly fine.

If you can call heartbroken perfectly fine, then yes, terrifically peachy.

She wishes she had caught a fever. That way, she could avoid coming down for breakfast and meeting the royal family, avoid seeing Florian and his stupid boyish face and his stupid boyish hair and the way that he just didn’t care.

Aster wants to take a hammer to her memories and smash them to smithereens. What had she seen in him six years ago, to make her replay the night they’d met countless times in her head? What kind of spell had been cast on her to make her actually want to see him again even after getting snubbed all those years ago?

“I shouldn’t have had my hopes up,” she mumbles miserably into her hands, rolling onto her side so she can curl in on herself. Stupid, stupid, stupid. She should’ve listened to Damien. She should’ve known better.

Aster doesn’t know how long she stays like that, wallowing in her own self-pity. But eventually, there’s a knock on her door, followed by the gentle sound of it opening and closing.

“Good morning, my lady,” she hears Seraphina say. “It’s time to get ready.”

Maybe she should just pretend to be sick.

Her hands feel like stones as she forces herself to pry them away from her face. She rises to a sitting position. “’Morning, Fina,” she greets.

“You seem tired, my lady.”

“Just a little.” Aster offers her a wry smile. “Seems like it’ll take me a while to get used to falling asleep in this bed.”

“I see, that’s too bad. I hope your quality of sleep improves soon.”

“Thanks, Fina. I hope so too.”

After a quick wash in the bathroom, Aster sits at the dresser as Seraphina combs out her hair. The face reflected in the mirror is pale, the shadows under her eyes only amplifying how pasty she looks.

“You’ll be joining the royal family for breakfast, yes?” Seraphina says, hands gentle as she works out the tangles in Aster’s hair.

“Yep. For breakfast and every other meal on every single day.”

Oh, what fun. What fun, fun, fun, fun, funnnnnnnnn.

Aster forces on a smile, the side of her mouth quirking up at Seraphina’s reflection. “Make me pretty, Fina?”

“You’re already very pretty without my help, my lady.”

“You’re just saying that.” Aster flaps a hand at her, pleased despite herself. After all, Seraphina didn’t seem like the kind to pay lip service just for the sake of it.

“I have no reason to lie, my lady.” Seraphina offers her a slight smile, attention focused on bringing her hair into order. “Oh. How strange.” Aster watches through the mirror as her maid pulls a stray leaf from her hair. “How did this end up here?”

Face carefully clueless, Aster shrugs back. “It’s a mystery.”