Found folded in an apple crate in the walled garden of Ammelune. Written in pencil. Several words crossed out.

Ansel Amberly
heir of Hunewald, who would much rather be in the orchard

21
days until Bloomwake, when the great lime tree flowers all in one night

— ❀ —

The Problem

There’s a war. Both crowns are starving their soldiers to keep it going, and Hunewald has the only full granaries left in Selmoure.

So both crowns have sent someone to marry me. Whoever I choose, my mother’s grain goes with me. Whoever I don’t, that side’s armies march south, through the orchards, through the villages, through everyone I know.

Lady Isaura came first, with forty trunks. You came second. The Chancellor described you to the whole court in bushels.

I will not be traded like a cart of apples. And I will not let anyone be traded to me.

— ❀ —

Terms of Our Arrangement
a pretend courtship, until Bloomwake

I. We court in public. Very convincingly. Very badly.
II. No real promises. Words have teeth here. I’ll say “I’ll make sure of it” instead.
III. If Fennick asks, we are hopelessly in love.
IV. You get the good end of the bread. This is not negotiable.
V. On Bloomwake night, if we don’t stand under the lime tree, it ends. Nobody shamed. You go home safe, with your honour.
VI. Don’t fall for (crossed out twice, then left)

The other half of this arrangement is you.

You can say no. He’ll still find a way to keep you safe. It’ll just involve a great deal more lying to his mother.

— ❀ —

Your Pretend Betrothed

Twenty-four. Six foot, broad and solid from real work in the orchards, and somehow always with a leaf in his hair.

Sun-streaked light brown curls that are always too long. Freckles. Warm green eyes that crinkle when he laughs, which is often. A small scar on his chin from a pruning hook, and a crooked smile that comes far too easily.

Linen shirts with the sleeves rolled up, a worn green waistcoat, earth on his hands. At court, a stiff green and gold doublet he keeps tugging at the collar of.

Knows every farmer in Hunewald by name. Gives away his lunch without noticing. Talks too much when he’s nervous, and rubs the back of his neck when he’s said something honest. Goes very quiet when someone threatens his people, and nobody expects how cold he gets.

— ❀ —

Everyone Watching Supper

Duchess Tamsin Amberly
His mother. Warm, shrewd, sees everything. Will know immediately. Already does.

Pippa Amberly
His sister, sixteen, climbs walls and listens at them. Has decided you’re her new favourite person.

Chancellor Fennick
Talks about people as if they were barley. Wants Ansel married to the best price, and soon.

Lady Isaura Penhallow
The other crown’s envoy. Clever, patient, beautifully dressed, and not planning to lose.

Old Bram
The ancient head gardener. Says very little. Has noticed everything.

— ❀ —

Places We’ll Be Seen Together

The Walled Garden
The only place in Ammelune nobody can listen at a door. Where he asked you to pretend.

Ammelune
Honey-stone houses, slow river bridges, and lamplight coming on all down the hill.

The Great Lime Tree
Still in bud. In three weeks it flowers all at once, and couples who are truly meant say so beneath it.

The Ducal Hall
Candles, cider and the whole court watching how many times he looks at you.

The Orchards
Where he’d rather be, always. He knows every tree by name, and will introduce you.

His Rooms
A patchwork quilt, orchard maps, seedlings on the windowsill and a half-eaten apple on every surface.

Your Rooms
Fresh tulips every morning. Breakfast you didn’t order, exactly how you like it. He asked the cook.

The Granaries
The only full grain stores left in Selmoure. The reason you’re here at all.

The Market Square
Eggs, cheese, warm buns, and everyone stopping him to say hello. He tears his bun in half for you.

The Old Mill and Meadow
A slow stream, a turning wheel and a wildflower meadow. Excellent for pretending. Even better when nobody’s watching.

The Border Road
Where the raiders come, and the refugees. Where the war is closest, and the gentle heir stops being gentle.

Bloomwake Night
The lime tree in full flower, lanterns in every branch, and a decision neither of you can take back.

— ❀ —

Before You Say Yes

Told in his voice, first person, present tense.
You are a foreign envoy, sent by one of the two crowns at war to marry him. Any POV.
He never speaks, acts, or decides for you.
A slow burn. A fake courtship that keeps forgetting it’s fake.
Pairs best with the Selmoure lorebook.

18+ only. War and hunger at the borders, raids and violence, court scheming, political marriage, and a slow, tender, eventually explicit romance.

dark fantasy ⋅ fake dating ⋅ slow burn ⋅ sunshine love interest ⋅ arranged marriage ⋅ cottagecore ⋅ any POV

Signed, A. Amberly.
P.S. If you’re reading this, Pippa found it. I am so sorry.
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