It seemed the palace gardeners had smoothed over the destruction the stranger and I had caused. The spot was back to being entirely smooth, and on closer inspection, I could even see a few new seeds implanted in the soil. A tiny twinge of excitement alighted inside of me as I began to theorize what type of seeds they had chosen. It was rather silly to get so giddy over gardening, but I felt no shame in it. After all, I had to look forward tosomething. Sapphira had robbed me of every other joy thus far, so why not stop and enjoy the roses?
My thoughts led me to the stunning, fuchsia roses that budded on the side of the garden. I had a similar rose bush in my own garden, but I had never gotten the colors to be so brilliant. My mind fluttered to life, imagining bouquets that would accent such a flower. Perhaps something with a touch of blue? Or purple? I scanned over the flowers looking for an appropriate match.
As my gaze drifted toward the purple irises, something snagged my attention. Tied beneath the soft violet petals was a folded note, sealed with what appeared to be a muddy thumbprint.
Could it really be…?
I untied the simple cord that attached the note to the flower’s stem. Sure enough, a thumb impression made of mud replaced the marking for a seal. I giggled softly as I recognized the subtle humor. So, he had left me a message after all, under an iris…
“Of course!” I exclaimed aloud. Burlap gave me a side glance at my unforeseen outburst. I laughed lightly at the creature, then turned my attention back to the note.
He had hidden it in an iris! How had I not noticed it sooner? A flutter of giddiness enveloped me as my fondness for the stranger increased. He must have known that an iris invokes the meaning of “a message.” Apparently, his knowledge of botany stretched farther than a hyacinth. With my curiosity piqued, I hastily opened the note.
To the maiden who had the unfortunate pleasure of meeting me,
I do hope this message isn’t too cleverly concealed. After I discovered the implication behind your daffodil, I assumed you wouldn’t be terribly offended by my attempts at writing you. You seem to be quite knowledgeable about plants. Do you often garden? Or do you simply enjoy studying botany?
I must admit, I don’t often get to discuss such topics with the company I keep. If you’re not already repulsed by my forward nature, I would greatly enjoy sharing such conversations with you. I shall eagerly await your reply.
Your freshly-bathed acquaintance
I scanned the letter far quicker than I should have, so I had to go back and reread most of it. He didn’t give his name, but he did leave a clue to his identity this time.
“I don’t often get to discuss such topics with the company I keep.”
That at least eliminates the possibility of him being a gardener or any other servant for that matter. Most working-class citizens don’t have restrictions on their conversation topics, but nobility certainly did. Perhaps he was a lord, or the son of a low-ranked noble? I doubted he ranked high enough in court to hold any weighty titles. A man as clumsy and openly expressive as he would likely have been allowed enough freedom in his youth to develop a personality. What if his father was a merchant, like mine had been?
I folded the note and securely tucked it into my pocket. My stepfamily would never approve of me writing to a complete stranger, especially a man of unknown standings. Therefore, it was essential that I write him back. I returned to Burlap and dug through her saddle bags until I acquired a small sheet of parchment and a worn pencil.
The stranger’s letter had been written in neat ink and sealed in a proper envelope. Unfortunately, I hadn’t come prepared to use proper stationary, so I would have to settle for using what was at my disposal. With my writing utensil in hand, I approached the lone bench and used the seat to brace my writing.
To the recently cleansed gentleman,
I must applaud your inventive letter delivery. It is not often that I get to converse on such obscure topics, either, so I would thoroughly enjoy the company of your penmanship. As for your question...
I paused, my pencil lingering above the parchment as I considered my next words. If I told him I spent most of my days gardening, he may assume I’m a servant. Though I don’t mind to be thought of as lowly, I did wonder if I should avoid giving too many hints to my identity. What would Sapphira do if this gentleman ever sought me out? She would probably burn the gardens to the ground if I ever let anyone believe she treated me as a servant despite it being true. I picked up the pencil, and continued where I left off.
As for your question, I do dabble in flower gardening. My mother once grew a rose garden alongside my father, so I’ve taken a liking to the art of nurturing blooms. As for studying botany, I can’t say that I have ever had the pleasure. Most of my knowledge comes from lessons my family and close friends have taught me. Do you study much? You certainly appear to possess some level of education. If my questions are ever too personal, you are welcome to refuse them. I shall keep my eyes open for your reply.
-Your flower-enthused acquaintance
I read over my writing a few times before deciding I was satisfied with it. This mystery man was likely no one of importance, yet for some reason, I felt the need to uphold a proper impression. It was likely an internal desire to reclaim some of my lost dignity after meeting in a mud pit; although, he was in equally terrible standings when we met, so perhaps it wasn’t to make up for the embarrassment. My mind wandered back to his piercing blue eyes that had contrasted his filth-glazed features. What business did such a man have with those striking eyes?
I didn’t have an envelope of my own, so I decided to repurpose the one the sender had provided me with. Once I tucked the letter safely inside, I pressed my thumb into the freshly sowed mud patch and placed my own print under his. Now came the matter of stashing the letter…
I scanned across the plethora of flowers as my mind rapidly interpreted each plant’s implied meaning. Most flowers were meant for conveying romantic feelings, such as saying, “I love you,” “you’re beautiful,” or other matters of the heart. While this stranger may be charming, he certainly didn’t have me swooning, therefore, I needed something a little more muted to deliver my message. I suppose I could place it back under the iris… but that wouldn’t showcase any of my own knowledge.
Think, Kalina…
It was a Canterbury bell that finally caught my attention. It was the most brilliant blue, which is likely why my eyes turned to it since it reminded me of the stranger’s eyes. However, the longer I stared at it, the more it tugged at me.What was the meaning behind this flower again…?My mind flipped through memories of my father as he explained the sentiment behind every flower I ever asked him about. My memory halted on the warm feeling of Father picking a deep blue Canterbury bell and placing it in my hand.
“This one has a very unique meaning.” Father smiled. “It was once used to scent letters that were returned to the high-ranked parts of the kingdom. Its true meaning is, “Your letter received.’”
A warm smile spread across my face as I leaned down to smell the beautiful blossom. The recollection of my father’s joy filled me with the same childlike excitement that had filled me back then.Your letter received... that should do perfectly. I gingerly tied the note to the base of the fragile stem using the same string the stranger had provided. Once my letter was officially prepared, I found myself fixated on the garden again.
There was so much potential here. So many flowers that could be combined into the most beautiful bouquets, suited for the most extravagant of royal weddings. My thoughts lingered back to the warning Sapphira had given me.Did I dare defy her again? Could she truly do me any further harm at this point?
I considered my parents’ garden. Surely, she would uproot it, but would that cost be worth the potential gain? Was this the right moment to be brave? My fingers lightly brushed against the delicate petals of a pure white daisy. Slowly, I plucked a petal, and then another, and another, each time whispering to myself.