The months following their first birthday brought new developments, new competitions, and much to Margotte's endless frustration, new ammunition for Adrian's teasing.
At fourteen months, they were both walking. Margotte had approached it systematically, as always, practicing her balance against furniture until she could take three steady steps, then five, then ten. Adrian haAd simply stood up one day and lurched forward with chaotic confidence, falling constantly but laughing each time.
Somehow, they'd both mastered it at exactly the same time.
"You cheated," Margotte accused, watching him toddle across the Ashford drawing room without holding anything.
"How?" Adrian spread his tiny arms for balance. "Just walked. Like you."
"You watched me practice. Copied."
"Did not. Just... knew how." He wobbled, caught himself. "Magic maybe."
"Not magic. Copying."
Their vocabulary had expanded considerably, though they still kept the full extent hidden from adults. Between themselves, they could hold almost complete conversations now, even if the grammar was still developing.
"Speaking of copying," Adrian said with that particular tone that made Margotte immediately suspicious. "Got letter."
"So? Many people get letters."
"From Evander."
Margotte tripped over her own feet.
Adrian's laughter was absolutely insufferable. "See? Say his name and you fall! That's love!"
"That's—that's coincidence!" Margotte pushed herself back up, face burning. "And you said letter. Evander is four. He can't write letters."
"His mama wrote it. He told her what to say." Adrian pulled a crumpled piece of paper from where he'd hidden it in his outfit. How he'd stolen it from the mail delivery, Margotte had no idea. "Want to hear?"
"No."
"'Dear Adrian and Margotte,'" Adrian read anyway, his baby voice taking on an exaggerated formal tone. "'Thank you for the nice party. I liked talking to you. Margotte is very smart and pretty—'"
"It does NOT say that!"
Adrian held the letter up. His reading was still developing, but Margotte could make out enough words to see he was, infuriatingly, telling the truth.
"'Margotte is very smart and pretty,'" he continued with growing glee. "'Her orange eyes are interesting. I would like to visit again soon. Lysander says hello but mostly he talks about the cake. Your friend, Evander.'"
Margotte stood frozen, processing this.
"He thinks you're pretty," Adrian singsonged. "And smart. But mostly pretty. That's boyfriend talk."
"It's... it's just being nice! Polite!"
"He didn't say I'm pretty."
"Because you're NOT."
"Exactly! So he only thinks YOU'RE pretty. Which means—"
Margotte lunged for the letter. Adrian danced backward, holding it above his head despite being roughly the same height. They tumbled into a wrestling match that ended with both of them on the floor and the letter torn in half.
"Now look what you did," Adrian said.
"What I did? You started it!"
"You attacked me!"
"You were being annoying!"
"I'm always annoying. You should be used to it by now."
Margotte opened her mouth to argue, then stopped. That was... actually a fair point.
"Still your fault," she muttered.
"Sure. Whatever. Your boyfriend still thinks you're pretty though."
"NOT MY BOYFRIEND!"
The nursemaid rushed in, alarmed by the shouting, and separated them quickly. By the time their mothers arrived, both babies had been cleaned up and were sitting on opposite sides of the nursery, pointedly ignoring each other.
The torn letter had mysteriously disappeared.
Margotte would later find it under her pillow, carefully pieced back together with what looked like jam as adhesive.
She hid it in her secret spot behind the loose stone in her nursery wall.
Not because it meant anything.
Just because it was hers.
***
At eighteen months, Lady Helena brought the twins for another visit.
Margotte had been dreading this since the letter incident. Adrian had been unbearable ever since, making kissing noises whenever Evander's name was mentioned, drawing crude stick figures of her and Evander holding hands, and generally being the most annoying person across two lifetimes.
"Excited to see your boyfriend?" he whispered as their mothers prepared the drawing room.
"Not boyfriend. Friend. Maybe. Possibly."
"So you admit he's a friend?"
"I admit nothing."
"You're blushing."
"Babies don't blush!"
"You're doing it anyway."
When the Valemont carriage arrived, Margotte positioned herself behind a potted plant, hoping for invisibility.
It didn't work.
"THERE'S THE FIRE-EYES GIRL!" Lysander announced his presence by essentially exploding through the doorway. "MARGOTTE! EVANDER TALKED ABOUT YOU SO MUCH! HE SAID—mmmph!"
Evander's hand had clamped over his brother's mouth with surprising speed.
"Sorry," Evander said quietly to the room at large. "He gets excited."
Lysander licked his hand. Evander removed it with a grimace.
"I WAS SAYING," Lysander continued at full volume, "that Evander kept asking Mama when we could visit again and he drew a picture of—OW!"
Evander had kicked him. Gently, but firmly.
The quiet twin's eyes found Margotte behind her plant. Something complicated crossed his face. Embarrassment, maybe, or resignation.
He walked over slowly, Lysander trailing behind still chattering about something involving horses and dragons.
"Hello," Evander said.
"Hello," Margotte replied, trying to sound casual despite Adrian's snickering from across the room.
"I... Lysander is loud. Sorry."
"It's okay. Used to loud." She gestured toward Adrian. "He's loud too. Different way."
Evander glanced at Adrian, then back to Margotte. "Your letter got destroyed?"
"What? No! I mean..." Margotte scrambled for words. "Maybe a little. Small accident."
"I can tell Mama to send another."
"NO! I mean... not necessary. I remember what it said."
"Oh." Evander's small smile appeared. "Good."
They stood in awkward silence for a moment.
"You're still interesting," Evander said finally. "More interesting than most people."
"You're still quiet. Good quiet, not boring quiet."
"Thank you."
"Welcome."
More silence. But it was comfortable silence, the kind Margotte rarely experienced outside her own head.
Then Lysander inserted himself between them, apparently unable to tolerate quiet for more than thirty seconds.
"EVANDER SAYS YOU'RE GOING TO BE A KNIGHT WHEN YOU GROW UP!" he announced to Margotte. "THAT'S SO COOL! CAN GIRLS BE KNIGHTS? MAMA SAYS YES BUT UNCLE SAYS NO BUT MAMA SAYS UNCLE IS STUPID—I'm not supposed to say stupid—BUT ANYWAY ARE YOU GOING TO FIGHT DRAGONS? I WANT TO FIGHT DRAGONS! OR MAYBE BE A DRAGON! CAN YOU BECOME A DRAGON? DO YOU THINK—"
"Lysander," Evander interrupted. "Breathe."
"Right! Breathing!" Lysander sucked in air dramatically. "But seriously about the dragons—"
"Want to see the garden?" Evander asked Margotte, clearly trying to escape his brother's energy.
"Yes. Please."
They made their escape while Lysander was distracted by the arrival of tea cakes, leaving Adrian to deal with the loud twin's questions about whether boys could have fire eyes too and wasn't it unfair that only Margotte got the cool eyes?
In the garden, Evander led Margotte to a quiet corner near the roses.
"Better here," he said. "Quieter."
"Much better." Margotte settled onto the grass with relief. "Your brother is very..."
"Loud? Chaotic? Exhausting?"
"I was going to say energetic."
"That too." Evander sat beside her, leaving a careful space between them. "But you were thinking the other words."
"Maybe."
They sat together, watching butterflies drift between flowers. It was peaceful in a way that Margotte's life rarely was. No competition, no teasing, no constant measurement of who was better at what.
Just... existing.
"Adrian teases you about me," Evander observed.
Margotte nearly choked. "What? How do you—"
"You turned red when Lysander mentioned my name. And Adrian was laughing. Not hard to understand." Evander plucked a blade of grass. "Does it bother you? The teasing?"
"Yes! I mean... it's stupid. We're babies. Little. Too little for... for that kind of thing."
"I think so too." Evander shredded the grass thoughtfully. "But you are interesting. And nice. And smart. Is it wrong to say that?"
"No, but Adrian makes it weird."
"Adrian makes everything weird."
"TRUE!"
Evander's smile grew slightly. "I like talking to you. You listen. You think before speaking. Most people don't."
"I like talking to you too," Margotte admitted. "It's... restful."
"Restful is good."
"Very good."
They sat in companionable silence until Lysander's distant shouting indicated he'd finished the tea cakes and was now looking for them.
"Should go back," Evander said reluctantly.
"Probably."
Neither moved.
"Margotte?"
"Yes?"
"Can we be friends? Real friends? Not... not whatever Adrian says. Just friends."
Margotte considered this. Friends. She'd never really had friends in her previous life. Colleagues, yes. Rivals, definitely. But friends? People she spent time with just because she enjoyed their company?
"Yes," she said. "Real friends."
"Good." Evander stood, offered his hand to help her up. "Friends don't let other friends get teased too much. I'll tell Adrian to stop."
"He won't listen."
"Probably not. But I'll try anyway."
They returned to find Adrian being subjected to a detailed explanation from Lysander about the strategic advantages of being a dragon versus fighting dragons, complete with dramatic gestures that had knocked over a vase.
"You survived?" Margotte asked Adrian.
"Barely," he gasped. "So much talking. Never stops. How do you live with him?" This last was directed to Evander.
"Practice," Evander replied serenely. "Lots of practice."
"And he likes Margotte," Lysander announced cheerfully, having somehow overheard despite not being part of the conversation. "Says she's the best girl ever! Except maybe Mama! But definitely top two!"
Both Margotte and Evander turned various shades of red.
Adrian's grin was victorious. "SEE? I was RIGHT!"
"I like her as a friend," Evander said firmly. "Friends can think friends are good."
"Best ever is more than friend!" Lysander argued.
"Is not!"
"Is too!"
While the twins argued semantics, Adrian leaned close to Margotte.
"Your boyfriend is defending you," he whispered.
"Not. Boyfriend." Margotte said through gritted teeth.
"Whatever you say... future Lady Margotte of House Evander."
"That's not how names work!"
"Sure it is. I'll make it work. I'm creative."
"You're ANNOYING!"
"Same thing."
Margotte looked to Evander for support. He just shrugged, a gesture that clearly communicated: What can you do?
And despite the teasing, despite the embarrassment, despite everything, Margotte felt something warm in her chest.
She had a friend. A real friend. Someone who didn't compete with her or push her or make everything a challenge.
It was... nice.
Even if Adrian would never, ever let her hear the end of it.
"Still not my boyfriend," she muttered as they were called in for lunch.
"Sure," Adrian said. "Keep telling yourself that."
"I WILL!"
"Good. I'll keep reminding you otherwise."
"I hate you."
"No you don't."
The terrible thing was, he was right. She didn't hate him. Couldn't hate him, really. He was infuriating and competitive and made everything difficult.
But he was also the only person who really understood her. Who pushed her to be better. Who'd held on when she was falling.
And maybe, just maybe, that was worth the teasing.
Even if she'd never admit it.
"Still hate you," she said anyway.
"Liar."
"Prove it."
"Don't need to. Already know."
They argued all through lunch, to their parents' fond exasperation.
Evander, sitting between them, somehow managed to keep both of them from actually escalating to violence.
It was, Margotte thought, a useful skill for a friend to have.
Just a friend.
Definitely just a friend.
No matter what anyone else said.
Even if the wooden horse was still her favorite toy.
That was just because it was well-made.
Obviously.