The matron, having heard his request, only barely managed to hide her disapproval. She did so with a deep, deferential bow, so that he could not see her scowling at him.
"What you ask for, Your Highness, is most improper," she said.
"I don't see how," he said mildly. "I merely wish to speak to the lady Ursa. In private."
The expression on her stern face belayed how little she believed him.
"I do apologize for inconveniencing you, my lord. However, I have been tasked with the protection of these girls."
"She will be perfectly safe," he said.
The conversation was beginning to try his patience. Above everything else, the walls of the guest room at Ursa's boarding house were paper-thin. Exactly what kind of impropriety could happen here without the entire place knowing about it, he dared not even ask.
He held the woman's gaze until she came to her senses and bowed again.
"I shall have her summoned right away."
"Thank you," he said, graciously.
A servant appeared once she left, carrying a tray and a tea set. They might have been ill-prepared to host royalty in this establishment but the service was competent enough. He knelt at the low table and waited – like a commoner. Or a deer dog, perhaps, awaiting its master's favour.
It was humiliating. And yet.
Shortly thereafter, the door slid open. In came Ursa, with the matron at her heels, and went at once to her knees in a smooth, graceful motion.
"Prince Ozai," she said.
She looked different in her rigid school uniform, with her hair tied back. Idly, his mind brought up a different image – a memory of her dancing, in a flowing red skirt, long hair undone. And flames all around her, useless in combat but lovely to look at.
He was pleased to notice that her face was as pretty as he remembered. It hadn't just been the charm of the Ember Island, then – or the rice wine – which had coloured his recollections.
A shy smile curved her full lips, amber-coloured eyes disappearing beneath the fanned black eyelashes as she remembered her manners and dropped her gaze.
Strange. She had looked at him quite boldly, and on several memorable occasions. She must have been remembering them now, as faint blush coloured her cheeks.
"Lady Ursa," he said formally.
Then he dismissed the matron. Ursa sat motionless, her posture perfect, slender pale hands folded demurely in her lap.
At long last, they were alone. She was still minding her manners, gaze lowered, so he took a moment to admire her, re-learning the delicate curves of her face and body. Longing, perhaps, to close the distance between them. But this would have to wait until a more opportune moment.
"It is a pleasure to see you again," he said.
"You as well, my lord," she said. "Albeit an unexpected one."
Her eyes flickered up to judge his reaction at the gently teasing tone, then dropped again.
"You are aware that my brother, Prince Iroh, is soon to return to the Capitol," he said.
To celebrate yet another victory. To be greeted with all the pomp and circumstance they should not, strictly speaking, splurge on in times of war. But Fire Lord Azulon spared no expense when it came to his firstborn.
"I am," Ursa said.
"There will be a great feast in celebration," Ozai said. "I would be honoured if you accompanied me."
That surprised her enough to have her raise her eyes and, for the first time since Ember Island, meet his gaze. This was a lapse in etiquette that he was willing to let slide, however, so long as she looked at him that way – wide-eyed with excitement, blush colouring her cheeks.
"To the Royal Palace? That's—I mean" she paused, searching for the appropriate answer. A small smile played at her lips. "I would love to."
"Excellent," Ozai said.
There were no more words to offer, not unless he meant to share them with the entire building. But he was content, and that contentment showed on his face.
He took his leave, passing the bowing servants and the disapproving matron, out into the street and the awaiting palanquin that was to carry him home.
At least now he had something to look forward to.