Marcus stared at the ground.
He felt foolish.
He thought he was the puppet master.
He thought he was the wise older brother guiding the naive hero.
But the hero had been watching him the whole time.
"How long?" Marcus asked. "How long have you noticed?"
Theo sat down on the grass next to him.
"Since the Royal Ball," Theo said.
"That was months ago."
"I saw Lady Vivienne," Theo said. "She asked you to dance. She did not ask me."
"I stepped on her toes," Marcus mumbled.
"She didn't care," Theo said. "She was smiling. A real smile. Not the scary assassin smile."
Theo picked at a blade of grass.
"Then I saw the letters," Theo continued.
"What letters?" Marcus panicked.
"The ones from the Duchess," Theo said. "They arrive every morning. They smell like lavender."
"Those are business!"
"Brother," Theo said gently. "Business letters do not smell like flowers. They smell like ink and sadness."
Marcus blushed.
"And the Professor," Theo went on. "She brings you coffee."
