✶✶✶
“LADY Yvonne, thank you so much for joining us today. How was the journey?” Sophie asked.
“Hello, Sophie. It was just fine, thank you. And might I say, you look utterly magnificent.”
“Wonderful. And thank you.”
Yvonne held her fan lightly over her mouth; she glanced at Kurt.
Ah, Sophie thought, knowing where this was going.
And knowing Yvonne couldn’t have chosen a worse target.
“Aha!” Yvonne cried, snapping her fan aside. That exclamation hadn’t been part of the act when she’d done it to Sophie—it must’ve been a new addition to the repertoire.
Though, of course, Kurt was utterly unfazed.
A beat of silence. A second, then a third.
“Ms. Sophie. Is your future spouse here related to gargoyles by any chance?” Yvonne finally asked.
“One hundred percent human, as far as I know. Just a little tight in the facial muscle department, is all,” Sophie replied.
With a sigh of disappointment, Yvonne flicked her fan back into place. Beside her was a large teddy bear of a man—presumably her husband. He gave Sophie a warm, gentle smile that made her smile back without thinking.
“Hello there, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Sophie Olzon.”
“Pontus Baird. The pleasure’s all mine.” He extended a pillowy, soft-looking hand.
She took it and shook it. Oh dear, it was even softer than she’d expected.
“Now, at some point in a handshake, dear, we let go—or is the soft hand of a young lady simply too much to resist?” Yvonne cut in.
“Ah! My apologies, sweetheart. I was rather taken,” Baird stammered.
Another prickle of frost.
“If I may, Ms. Sophie,” Baird said, recovering himself, “I realize this is hardly the moment, what with it being a celebration and all, but I wonder if I might steal a moment with Lord Northman. A grown-up conversation, if you will. Would that be permissible?”
Ah. Sophie offered a gracious smile. Likely something about potatoes that could survive a chill, she thought.
“Of course,” she said. “I understand Lord Northman is a rather elusive guest. Rarely leaves his domain, does he? Please, do speak with him as much as you wish.”
That refined dandy of a man did look a touch lonely, lifting a forkful to his mouth without Arasyll at his side.
And if something fruitful could come from this time of celebration, then Sophie could hardly think of anything better.
✦ ✦ ✦
✶✶✶
SOPHIE and Kurt approached the infirmary table.
“Hello,” Kurt said simply.
“Hello?!” The infirmary director sprang to his feet. “I am your direct superior, and all I get is a hello?! This is an outrage! A scandal! Am I not the very reason you’re betrothed to that beauty on your arm?! You ought to be showering me with gratitude, Kurt Ozhorn!”
“I’m thankful, director.”
“Are you?! You could’ve fooled me!”
The director huffed and puffed. Sophie gave a quick wave, motioning for Kurt to lean in. She rose up on her toes and whispered something into his ear.
“Mm-hm… Mm-hm… That tickles, I like that,” Kurt muttered.
“Yes, but I’m trying to tell you something. Are you even listening?” Sophie said, exasperated.
More whispering. Kurt’s face slackened, all the sharpness melting away. Around the table, the infirmary staff stared, mouths slightly agape, as a universal blush crept over their faces.
“…Is that really Kurt Ozhorn?” someone breathed.
“This is…extraordinary,” another whispered.
“You can say that again,” came a third.
The man who’d once seemed carved from stone had softened into butter under his wife’s hand.
Though, to be fair, when they looked upon the very girl, up on her tiptoes, earnestly trying to impart some wisdom into his ear…
“I suppose it makes sense.”
“One very obvious reason why.”
“Kurt Ozhorn. Human, after all.”
Should they really have been so surprised?
In the end, not a single whispered word from Sophie made its way to Kurt’s head, distracted as he was by the intimate, spine-tingling feeling of her voice at point-blank range, and Sophie had to introduce them properly herself.