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eaten, this man smelled of musky sandalwood
     and the scent of sweet grass warmed by the sun.
    Satisfied, he gently dropped the water flower back down into the fountain, where it
     turned in a lazy circle before floating back. It was as if there was something magnetic
     about the man that drew the exceptional blossom toward him. Suddenly, I realized that
     I, too, had come dangerously close to touching him.
    Leaning back at an awkward angle, so he wouldn’t sense me, I wondered how long he
     would be standing in my very personal space. When he didn’t immediately move, I studied
     him in much the same way as I did the garden. The fact that he was handsome was obvious,
     but I’d been around handsome men before and had always remained largely unaffected.
     A handsome man could be just as cruel as an ugly one. I’d had far too many uncomfortable
     experiences with men to simply trust one based on his appearance.
    That he was an emperor’s son meant he was powerful, but he didn’t wear his power in
     an obvious way like my father did. That fact made me like him more. His clothing was
     well made but didn’t boast the typical trappings that declared to everyone that a
     rich man wore them. His body was that of a warrior, not a king, which likely meant
     his father was still alive and, what was more, it meant that he was brave—a man who
     stood alongside his soldiers rather than behind them.
    His features were not typical of the men I’d come across before. The shape of his
     face and mouth seemed different somehow, and his golden eyes, with little streaks
     of rust the color of newly made henna ink, were so uncommon as to be remarkable. He
     was as exotic and rare as the flower I’d just come across—a bewitching, transfixing
     contradiction of a man.
    He was a soldier and yet he seemed to have an appreciation for things of beauty. An
     heir to a large empire and yet here he was alone, without a bodyguard or an entourage.
     No one was about to scrape at his feet or offer obeisance. Here was an entitled, attractive
     prince who seemingly cared nothing for parties, diplomacy, or eligible females. And
     where most men would strike the help for being careless, he was not only kind but
     assisted the servant—a gesture few men I knew would make, especially for one they
     considered beneath their station.
    As I watched him twitch his fingers above the koi pond, I smiled and had to stop myself
     from laughing at the hungry little fish lifting their heads above water and making
     supplicating shapes with their mouths. They were hungry and sought the sustenance
     they thought he might provide.
    “I’m sorry. I didn’t bring you any bread,” he said. “If I knew you were here, I would
     have.”
    My amusement was replaced by something else, something warm, a feeling I couldn’t
     quite describe. Heat colored my cheeks, and I silently pressed my hands against them.
     Amazed, I realized I was blushing from just being in his presence. My pulse quickened
     as I stared at his face as hungrily as the colorful fish. In fact, I couldn’t seem
     to look away from him until I noticed his brow furrow in confusion, and he glanced
     in my direction.
    “What is it?” he asked. “What ethereal creature have you discovered?”
    I looked down at the bobbing school only to cup my mouth in horror when I realized
     that the fish had given up on the handsome young man and were now turned in my direction.
     They saw through whatever spell it was that made me invisible to others. As their
     wide mouths opened and closed and they swam closer, he took a step in my direction.
     Just at that moment, a man called out.
    “There you are. Thank you for agreeing to see me.”
    The young prince stopped; his whole body stiffened as he turned to acknowledge the
     newcomer. Stepping into the clearing around the fountain, the man strode confidently
     forward, the mask he wore a version of his earlier self. Younger than the wizened
     diplomat my father