As dusk began to fall, I stopped writing long enough to turn on a light. My gaze flicked to the nightstand next to my bed, only to be drawn to the splash of color near the wall beyond. It was a vibrant flower known as an orchid. Long ago, someone had sent flora from a southern continent to a botanist, who had shown greater interest in the material it came packaged in and made an effort to cultivate it. The result had been an unbelievably beautiful flower. It had been given as a gift to the queen of the time, and from there, a variety of breeds had emerged. Soon the spring was adorned with such a diverse range of flowers that the offshoots weren’t even recognizable as the original flower—one that bloomed only in select places during the winter.
These flowers, which had been delivered to me every other day, all came from the greenhouse of the royal palace. Each one arrived with a card bearing nothing but my name in a particular man’s handwriting. The mere thought of him made me clutch my hands to my aching heart.
Six days had passed since I’d left the palace. I insisted that I was feeling fine at this point, but Selma and the other maids always dismissed my protests, claiming that the master of the house had yet to authorize my discharge. Unfortunately, both my father and brother had been sleeping at the royal palace for the duration of my stay, and neither was in a position to stop by home. Even my offers to go check on them were rebuffed on the grounds that the servants had already done so when they delivered their changes of clothes. After being sent back to bed and told to read my books one too many times, I was starting to feel frustrated.
As luck would have it, Grandpa Teddy was currently staying at the family estate, although he went to the royal palace each day as the representative and supervisor of the Black Wing Knights. He came to see me in the mornings and evenings on behalf of my father and brother, but he refused to tell me anything about what was going on at the royal palace. I’d assumed it was because he wanted me to rest...but I was beginning to suspect there might be another reason. I racked my brains for what it could be, but when I failed to come up with an explanation, I put those thoughts aside and asked the maids to pass on written reports to me, if only a few at a time. I also said I wanted to write requests of my own.
Selma acquiesced, perhaps out of respect for my strong resolve. Documents began to arrive at my desk, albeit at a slow pace. Between those and my reply to Lilia’s letter, I managed to jot down the many thoughts that had run through my head during my convalescence.
I wanted to read more than anything, but now wasn’t the time. Not even I was sheltered enough to sit back with a book in a time of crisis, especially when I wasn’t feeling particularly unwell. I’d be doing the greatest disservice of all to the books themselves. It wouldn’t be right not to give them my full attention—though a handful had been riveting enough to draw me in despite the circumstances.
In any case, as the one tasked with combating the plague, I, Elianna, couldn’t remain sick in bed forever. Then again, my brother had assured me that others were willing to take over my duties, and according to Lilia’s letter, everyone’s combined efforts had put the Ralshen Region on the road to recovery. I didn’t have to shoulder all the responsibility alone—or do anything at all, really. The world would keep on turning without me...
I snapped back to my senses with a furious shake of my head. My thoughts had come dangerously close to veering in the wrong direction.
Leaving a mess of paperwork and unfinished writings on the bed, I took a deep breath and set my feet on the floor. Next to my slippers was a brand new sculpture of a waterfowl and the brazier that warmed the room, from which a vase had been placed at a safe distance. In it were the flowers a certain someone had sent me, but I believed the bouquet cards that came with them were meant to be the true gift. Nothing was on them except for my name—no letter, not even a message. The only exception was the one that had arrived shortly after I’d left the royal palace, which said only a few words: “To Elianna, my dearest ladybird.”
I’d kept all the cards he’d sent me in a safe place—including those with only my name. As the thought flashed across my mind, I felt my cheeks grow as hot as if they’d caught fire. I was his ladybird. That line reminded me of the night I’d been reunited with His Highness, and the memory sent me into my own little world of rapture.
The fragrance of the flowers soothed me, and I cradled the vase in my hands as if it were something precious. Just as I had picked it up and strode across the dimly lit room toward the window, I heard a noise. It sounded like a pebble striking the glass, so I opened the window and stepped out onto the small balcony. I shivered as a rush of cold air hit me, instinctively hugging the vase closer to my chest.
A blanket of snow still covered the Bernstein manor’s gardens. In the spring, the flowers my brother and I had gathered from all over the kingdom painted the grounds in color, but those now lay dormant beneath the soil. Standing on the barren earth was a man who was clearly no gardener.