“Ey! Is that the final product?” Chester popped around the edge of a pink rose bush with a freshly filled watering can splashing over on his hand. “Lemme see!” He crammed onto the bench between Beatrice and me, nearly shoving the older woman onto the grass. The bench creaked from the added weight, but still managed to hold all four of us.
“What do you think, Chester? Do you sense it’s lacking anything?” I watched the boy’s eyes narrow onto the cluster of dried blooms.
The sample bouquet was not a listed requirement for submitting an application, yet I felt as though including one would give me an edge over the other applicants. The arrangement itself had to be no bigger than my hand to fit inside a sealed letter. It also had to be pressed flat and dried in order for the flowers to look attractive, even if the letter sat unopened for days. It took a bit of trial and error, but after a few attempts, I decided to create a miniature arrangement centered around a single stargazer lily. Pink pigments streaked from the center of the lily’s white petals, accenting the pressed mini pastel-pink peonies that circled it. Tufts of dark green rose leaves filled in the voided space between the blooms, with a few white rosebuds tucked amongst them. At the base of the arrangement, a silver satin ribbon tied off the stems, with a delicate purple forget-me-not pinned to the center of the bow. The color had faded during the drying process, but any trained gardener could imagine what the blooms had looked like during their life. I had been pressing the arrangement between heavy books for the last three days, and now the day had finally come to mail in the application.
Chester raised an eyebrow, then snapped his fingers. “Baby’s breath!” he said triumphantly. “You need a touch more of white to tie in the lily. The flowers should be small enough that you won’t have to flatten them beforehand.”
I stared at him in amazement. “That’s brilliant, Chester!” I praised the boy generously as I stood from the creaking bench. I whirled around the garden in search of the flower but came up short after a full lap. “Where is the baby’s breath? I thought we had a patch growing near the zinnias?” I looked at the three gardeners, and they all shared the same solemn look.
“We had to tear them out.” Yvette sighed sadly. “The mistress believed they looked more like weeds than flowers.”
My heart sank.Weeds?My mother loved those dainty white flowers. She used to always pick sprigs of it to braid into my hair when I was small. The blooms may not have been large or flashy, but they held simplistic elegance.How could Sapphira request the destruction of such a beautiful work of nature?My face fell, and the trio looked up at me in sympathy.
“Ya know what…” Beatrice stood from the bench, bracing a hand upon my shoulder as she did so. “Why don’t ya run over to the palace garden and borrow some of theirs? I’m sure they won’t miss such a small sprig. If ya leave now, ya should have plenty of time to get back before the courier arrives for the application.”
My spirits lifted instantly at the thought of returning to the palace gardens, but then a pang of reality swept over me. “I can’t go now. Sapphira is home. She won’t sit idly by as I race down the road on a horse.” I tried to mask the heavy disappointment in my voice with a puny smile. “It’s alright though... The sample still looks lovely as it is.”
The faces around me didn’t reflect my attempt at a positive outlook. Chester in particular, looked a little more unpleased than the rest of the group as he pressed a thoughtful finger to his chin.
“What if… you didn’t take a horse?” he considered aloud. “It’s only a ten-minute ride to the palace, so it couldn’t be more than ‘alf an hour to walk. I reckon you’d still have plenty of time to make it back, and you could sneak out through the back of the garden. Bea, Yve, and I can cover for you if the mistress comes callin’.”
My gaze passed among them as they nodded in agreement with Chester’s plan. I turned my head toward the sky, to gage the time of day. It was just past midday, and the courier would arrive before supper. There was time, but did I want to risk it?
“There are times where it’s good to be brave, dear.” Beatrice said with a wink. “We got ya covered, but ya better hurry.”
My fears vanished with Beatrice’s encouragement. “Alright! I’ll be back soon!” I waved a quick farewell as I cradled the incomplete sample against my chest.
It took a little effort to cut through the back of the garden, but once I had freed my cotton skirt from the last bramble, I took off at full speed. My heart raced with adrenaline as I hurried across the coarse road. My bare feet stung from the loose pebbles that littered the street, but I paid it no mind. This was the most defiant I had ever been. Sapphira would likely ship me off to Sybettal if she ever caught wind of what I had done. But it didn’t matter if she caught me now. The pieces were already in place, and the letter was prepared. All I had to do now was finish the sample, seal it in the envelope, and hand it to the courier. I may even hand it over in front of Sapphira herself! She would probably faint with rage if I did so. I smiled villainously at the thought.
It was about time she got a dose of her own medicine. She has been pulling the strings for so long that she likely never assumed anyone else would attempt to express free will. My legs strained from the exertion of my run, and my feet ached from the rough contact. I slowed my run to a canter, huffing as I did so. Despite my quick start, it was still a long walk to the palace. The roads grew more populated the farther I got into town, and a new question now lingered in my mind…
Could my garden correspondent be among these faces?
I scanned over all the young men I passed, each time I mentally sized up their stature to the man I had only seen slathered in mud. Most of the gentlemen were too short, too tall, or too wide, and the few that did match had the wrong eyes. In fact, no one seemed to match the blue eyes the man had possessed. There were other blue-eyed men in Drancos, of course, but they didn’t have the same intensity. I likely would have suspected that our entire exchange had been nothing more than a lucid dream, but his letters were just as real as my memories of him.
I felt my heart rate elevate at the thought of the letters.Will there be a new one today?I had never had a writing companion before, so I wondered if my excitement was typical of such friendships. We had only been writing each other for two weeks now, and I had anticipated being unable to respond as often once I was released from stable duty. Despite how short a time we’d communicated, I still felt comfortable expressing my true self to him. Considering his clean handwriting and perfect grammar, he was likely a noble, but he often thought whimsically. It was odd to find anyone of high-status who possessed even an ounce of individuality. Perhaps he was unpopular?
His social standing didn’t matter to me. I rather enjoyed his boyish wit, paired with his well-educated discussions. Talking with him reminded me of how conversations with Father would often go. He would always encourage my creativity while simultaneously challenging my intellect.I wonder if the mystery man has fond memories with his father, too.Perhaps I shall ask him in my next letter.
It took me at least a half-hour to finally reach the garden. A few new abrasions graced my soles, but the discomfort melted away as my gaze landed upon a full bush of white baby’s breath. I instantly gravitated toward the thick bush and began inspecting it for the perfect sprig. After holding up my pressed bouquet to a multitude of bunches, I finally selected two elegant stems of flowers to gently pluck. With tender care, I slid the cut stems into the hold of the satin ribbon, attaching it to the bouquet.
My eyes brightened. “It’s perfect,” I breathed quietly. After weeks of arranging, rearranging, and even scrapping a few designs entirely, I finally felt as though my ambitions were represented in a physical form.
With my sample perfected, I turned my attention back to the garden. It had become a bit of a scavenger hunt to locate the mystery man’s letters. We had both grown accustomed to assigning secondary meanings to our notes based on the symbolism of the flower it lay beside. It was like speaking a language that no one else knew, and I rather enjoyed it. My last letter had been placed in the yellow roses to symbolize friendship, so I looked near other flowers that would convey a similar meaning. However, my search came up empty. A feeling of unease washed over me as I exhausted checking the last bloom of friendship.Had he not accepted my invitation to move beyond acquaintances? Maybe I had been too forward…
My heart sank a little at the thought as I continued to search the garden. A new worry began to cloud my mind as I recognized how much time I had spent on my search. I quickened my pace and began to nearly race around the grounds.Had he simply not had a chance to respond yet?I might have been wasting my time looking.
I had nearly given up on locating a letter when a vivid, magenta zinnia caught my attention. A look of confusion spanned my face as my eyes landed on the neatly sealed envelope at the base of the flower.
A zinnia? Didn’t those symbolize… lasting affection?
I cocked my head to one side as I curled my fingers around the note.What else did a zinnia mean? Goodness? Remembrance? Aha! It also meant friendship! But typically, it was a blue zinnia that invoked such a meaning… I can’t quite recall what magenta implies.
With my puzzled expression deepening, I quickly tore open the note in search of any further clues.
Daisy,
I would be most honored to have a friend like you by my side. Speaking of… Do you think it’s about time we made a second attempt at our first introduction? I must admit, ever since we first met, I have been curious whether or not your hair color was truly a mud-brown, or if you’ve been hiding blue locks all along. Would you be willing to end the mystery for me, and meet me at the prince’s ball? I was fortunate enough to acquire an extra invitation, in case you weren’t intending on receiving one. I understand that I am asking a great deal from you, so please don’t feel inclined to amuse me if you’re not comfortable. However… I hope you do come, and if you do, you can find me by looking for the man with the magenta zinnia pinned to his jacket. I doubt any other gentlemen will choose such an accessory, so I shouldn’t be too difficult to locate. If you come, I’ll tell you the true meaning behind the flower. That is, of course, if you don’t already know it… I greatly look forward to your response.