Leo had always believed that romantic relationships were complicated enough when they involved two normal people with ordinary problems and reasonable expectations.
What he had not anticipated was how exponentially more complicated they would become when one person was a princess with royal responsibilities and the other was a reincarnated author trying to avoid becoming the main character in his own story.
The invitation arrived during his morning classes, delivered by a mechanical butterfly with golden wings and an attitude that suggested it took its duties very seriously.
The butterfly perched on Leo's desk during Advanced Magical Theory, tapped imperiously on his textbook with one delicate antenna, and refused to leave until he had accepted the small, elegantly sealed envelope it carried.
Professor Grimwald paused in his lecture about cross-dimensional magical resonance to observe the delivery with obvious interest. "A royal messenger, Mr. Vance? How... intriguing."
Leo felt the eyes of every student in the classroom turn toward him as he opened the envelope with hands that were definitely not trembling, despite what Sir Reginald might claim later. The invitation was written on cream-colored parchment in elegant script that practically radiated aristocratic breeding.
"Mr. Leo Vance," it read, "is cordially invited to take tea with Her Royal Highness Princess Seraphina this afternoon at three o'clock in the Royal Gardens. Please respond at your earliest convenience."
Leo stared at the invitation, his mind racing through all the ways that having tea with a princess could complicate his carefully constructed plan for anonymity.
Tea with royalty was exactly the kind of high-profile social engagement that would make it impossible to blend into the background of anyone's story.
"Well?" Professor Grimwald asked with the kind of academic curiosity that suggested he found Leo's correspondence more interesting than his own lecture. "What does Her Royal Highness want?"
"Tea," Leo said weakly. "She wants to have tea."
"How delightful," Professor Grimwald said with a smile that suggested he found the situation amusing rather than concerning. "I'm sure you'll have a lovely time discussing... whatever it is that young people discuss over tea these days."
Leo spent the rest of the class trying to figure out how to politely decline a royal invitation without causing a diplomatic incident or arousing suspicion about his motives. Unfortunately, every excuse he could think of sounded either implausible or insulting.
"I could claim to be allergic to tea," he whispered to Sir Reginald during a brief break in the lecture.
"Tea allergies are not a recognized medical condition," Sir Reginald whispered back. "And even if they were, I suspect the princess would simply offer you coffee or perhaps some kind of herbal beverage."
"What about a scheduling conflict? I could say I have important academic obligations."
"What academic obligations? You've already demonstrated that you can master advanced magical theory without studying, and your professors think you're some kind of interdisciplinary research prodigy. I doubt anyone would believe that you're too busy with coursework to have tea with royalty."
Leo groaned quietly. "There has to be some way to avoid this without seeming rude or suspicious."
"Perhaps," Sir Reginald suggested, "you could simply attend the tea and try to be as boring as possible. Make yourself seem like such an uninteresting companion that the princess loses interest in pursuing a friendship."
"That's... actually not a terrible idea," Leo said, brightening slightly. "I could talk about... mundane things. Boring things. The kind of things that would make anyone want to end the conversation as quickly as possible."
"Such as?"
Leo considered this for a moment. "Academic theory. Specifically, the most tedious aspects of academic theory. I could spend the entire tea discussing the philosophical implications of magical consciousness or the theoretical frameworks governing interdisciplinary research methodologies."
"That might work," Sir Reginald agreed. "Though given your track record, you'd probably end up accidentally fascinating her with your insights into advanced magical principles."
Leo's optimism deflated. "You're right. I'd probably turn a boring academic discussion into some kind of revolutionary theoretical breakthrough that would make her even more interested in spending time with me."
By the time his classes ended, Leo had resigned himself to attending the royal tea and attempting to navigate the social situation with as much grace as he could muster. He spent the intervening hours preparing conversational topics that were both appropriately respectful and thoroughly uninteresting.
The Royal Gardens were exactly as he had described them in his original story: an elegant expanse of carefully cultivated beauty with winding paths, ornamental fountains, and flower beds that bloomed in precise seasonal arrangements.
Princess Seraphina was waiting for him at a small table that had been set up near a rose garden, looking exactly as lovely and aristocratic as he had written her to be.
She was also, he noticed with growing concern, looking at him with the kind of warm, interested expression that suggested she was genuinely pleased to see him.
"Leo!" she said, rising from her chair with a graceful movement that made it seem like she was floating rather than standing. "I'm so glad you could come. Please, sit down. I've ordered some lovely tea and cakes."
Leo settled into the chair across from her, trying to project an aura of polite disinterest while Sir Reginald took up a concealed position in his breast pocket. The table was set with delicate china, silver utensils, and an array of pastries that looked like they had been crafted by artists rather than bakers.
"This is very... elegant," Leo said, which was true even if it wasn't particularly interesting. "Very... royal. The kind of elegant royalness that one would expect from... royal tea situations."
Princess Seraphina smiled, and Leo got the uncomfortable feeling that she found his awkwardness charming rather than off-putting. "I wanted to thank you properly for what you did in the gardens. Saving my life was... well, it was the most heroic thing anyone has ever done for me."
"It wasn't heroic," Leo protested. "It was panic-driven pond-tackling. There's a significant difference between heroism and accidentally falling into water while wrestling with an assassin."
"You put yourself in danger to protect me," Princess Seraphina said with the kind of gentle firmness that suggested she was not going to be easily convinced otherwise. "That's the very definition of heroism."
Leo tried to think of a response that would minimize his role in the assassination attempt without seeming ungracious or self-deprecating to the point of rudeness. "Anyone would have done the same thing," he said finally. "It was just... basic human decency. The kind of thing that decent people do when they see someone in danger."
"Not everyone would have acted so quickly," Princess Seraphina said, pouring tea into delicate cups with the kind of practiced grace that came from years of royal training. "And not everyone would have been so... modest about their actions afterward."
She handed him a cup of tea, and Leo noticed that her fingers brushed against his for just a moment longer than was strictly necessary for the transfer of beverages. It was the kind of subtle, meaningful contact that belonged in romance novels, and it made him want to hide under the table until the entire situation went away.
"I'm not modest," Leo said desperately. "I'm just... realistic about my own capabilities. I'm not a hero. I'm barely competent at being a student."
Princess Seraphina laughed, and the sound was like silver bells in a gentle breeze. "You're the most accomplished student at the academy. Your professors can't stop talking about your innovative approaches to magical theory and your revolutionary techniques in practical spellcasting."
"My professors talk too much," Leo muttered, taking a sip of tea that was absolutely delicious and probably cost more than most people earned in a month.
"They're proud of you," Princess Seraphina said with obvious warmth. "And they should be. What you've achieved in such a short time is remarkable."
Leo felt the conversation drifting toward exactly the kind of topics he had been hoping to avoid. "It's not remarkable," he said quickly. "It's just... lucky guessing. Very lucky guessing. The kind of guessing that's bound to run out eventually."
"I don't think it's luck," Princess Seraphina said thoughtfully. "I think you're naturally gifted in ways that you don't fully understand yet. There's something about you, Leo. Something... special."
The way she said "special" made Leo's heart do things that hearts were not supposed to do during casual tea conversations. It was the kind of tone that suggested she was thinking about him in ways that went far beyond gratitude for pond-based assassination prevention.
"I'm really not special," Leo said, his voice rising slightly in pitch. "I'm aggressively ordinary. Militantly mundane. The kind of ordinary that makes other ordinary people feel exotic by comparison."