just fall | ✓

14.

On Friday, I was stopped by a maid on my way to my lessons. The handwriting wasn't incredibly familiar to me, but I had an idea of who had sent it by the curve of the letters of my name. I stood in the hall to read it before heading into lessons.

Cassiana,

I'm sorry for being unable to meet with you this week. I'd been planning to meet with you, but my parents were insistent that I entertain the other Selected and avoid showing favoritism, which is reasonable and ridiculous.

But I digress, because I'm sure you aren't interested in excuses...and because if I let myself continue, this letter will be six pages of complete bullshit, which I'm sure you also aren't interested in. To make up for the last week of silence, feel free to stop by my office for c̶o̶f̶f̶e̶e̶ tea after your afternoon lesson. There will be a maid waiting by the door after your lesson. If you're interested, she'll show you the way. I hope you have a good day and that your lessons go well. I look forward to (hopefully) seeing you this afternoon.

It was signed, simply, Alexander. No titles or anything. None of his other notes had been signed with just his first name, always Prince Alexander and addressed to Lady Cassiana. Clearly, he'd given up on that, because even the envelope was surprisingly devoid of a title for me.

I tucked the letter back into the envelope and straightened my shoulders before going into my lesson. Aquia shot me a confused look, but I shook my head and took my seat, knowing that focusing would be difficult with the letter still in my hand.

☼

After my afternoon lesson, I followed a maid to Alexander's office. She knocked twice on the door before opening it. She motioned for me to enter, and pulled the door shut behind me.

It was a nice office, I supposed. Not that I had many interactions in offices that weren't rundown and sketchy-looking, usually with a birdlike man with deep-set eyes sitting with his feet propped up on the desk, his hair and face shiny like he hadn't washed either in a while. But that felt like a different life, nowhere even close to the ball gowns and camera flashes and golden everything that I had grown sort of accustomed to in Angeles. It was hard to imagine going back to that life.

Alexander was seated behind a desk that would have been nicely organized if it weren't for the papers covering every inch of it. Behind him were a set of floor-to-ceiling windows with thick drapes pulled back to showcase the gardens, and off to his left were bookshelves and file cabinets. He finished scribbling something down on a page, typed something on his computer, and then looked up at me. A smile tugged at his lips. "You came."

I took a seat in one of the chairs in front of his desk, not bothering to wait for an invitation. "Well,  yeah. You didn't think I'd say no, did you?"

He shrugged, cleaning up the papers and putting them into neat stacks. His desk looked much less hectic and out of place in the neat, clean room when it was organized. "I wasn't sure. I was hoping you weren't mad at me."

"Of course not," I said. "That'd be stupid. And Mason told me all about your father pushing you towards the girls with connections, so I can't find it in me to be offended that you went on two and a half dates with Celine this week." I said it brightly. Celine was a Two from Angeles, a well-known model. She was closer in age to Alexander than I was, and she was gorgeous, so it didn't really surprise me that he was entertaining her so much. Except that it did, because she was a colossal bitch that I avoided as much as I could.

He let out a sigh, looking only mildly defeated. "I was hoping you wouldn't be too pissed at me for that."

I shrugged and leaned back in the chair. "I don't own you, and you're supposed to do it. Not my place to get offended."