the King's petals

      In the eastern garden, the morning mist had nearly lifted. Aurora stood beneath an old chestnut tree, Simone holding the bow, Tara carrying the quiver of arrows. Everything was almost ready.       Hiding her nervousness before meeting His Highness was proving difficult. Aurora had chosen a loose, olive-green dress tied at the waist with a simple bow, and asked her maids to gather her hair into a practical bun so it wouldn’t get in the way.       Though truthfully, shooting in a dress was far from ideal. Skirts tangled, fabric restricted movement, and heels threatened to twist on uneven ground… But palace etiquette left no room for argument. To wander the halls in anything less than proper attire would be unseemly.       Back home, she always wore wide trousers, perfect for climbing trees, riding bareback or sprinting through fields without a care. But here, in Sindersfell, even freedom had to wear silk and walk on its best behavior.       Just then, Duke Jeremiah appeared from beyond the hedge, dressed in an elegant doublet.       “Good morning, lovely ladies,” he greeted with a graceful bow of his head.       “Good morning,” Aurora replied, returning the gesture with a slight curtsy.       The Duke’s eyes swept over the lawn, taking in the prepared archery spot.       “His Highness will be here any moment. Where would you like the target placed?”       Aurora frowned slightly.       “I’m sorry, but… I’m not quite sure I understand.”       “His Highness asked me to set the target wherever you say, Lady Vale,” the Duke explained. In truth, even he had been surprised by his friend’s request, entrusting a guest with such a choice.       Simone and Tara exchanged a glance. Wasn’t it rather bold for the prince to let his guest dictate arrangements so freely?       “Ah… Yes,” Aurora said after a brief pause. “A bit higher, please. And two steps to the left. The light is better there. His Highness will have a clearer view to see where to aim.”       The Duke nodded and lifted the target himself to reposition it. Oddly, no servants accompanied him. No attendants, no pages—just him, carrying out the task as if it were the most natural thing in the world.       How strange…       Rapid footsteps crunched against the gravel behind her.       The prince had arrived alone. No guards. No attendants. Just him. Sorry?       He wore a simple doublet, his hair slightly tousled as if he’d been running. His cheeks were faintly flushed, likely from racing through the cool morning air.       And yes.       He looked even more breathtaking than before.

Of course he does.

      People hadn’t lied about his doll-like features. Each time Aurora saw him, she found herself newly convinced. The black doublet suited him perfectly… though blue would be lovely too.       Matching his eyes…       Stop.       Stop!       And his skin. So fair…       Wait… were those… freckles on his cheeks?       Good heavens!       “Forgive me,” he breathed, coming to a stop before them. “Good morning. I’m sorry to have kept you waiting. My father wished to see me first thing.”       His eyes found Aurora immediately.       “I see you’ve already set up the target?”       “As the lady instructed,” Jeremiah replied with a small, knowing smile.       Xavier’s lips curved in quiet amusement.       “Excellent.” He stepped closer to Aurora. “I’d like to learn. And I think you’ll make a superb teacher. What’s most important in archery?”       Don’t look at me like that…       Yesterday, when some of the other guests had swooned under his gaze, Aurora had quietly scoffed. What nonsense, she’d thought, rolling her eyes.       But now…       How was she supposed to hide this flush creeping up her neck?       Fainting was absolutely out of the question — ridiculous, childish and absolutely unlike her.       Lowering her head further? Not dignified.       Staring intently at the flower bushes? Too obvious.       Hmmm…       She forced herself to meet his eyes, just for a heartbeat, before turning slightly toward the target, as if assessing the wind.       “The first and probably most important rule,” Aurora said, steadying her voice, “is not to fear missing the mark.”       The prince nodded and reached for the bow and an arrow.       “Then let’s try.”       Duke Jeremiah stepped back in silence. Simona and Tara exchanged a glance, then quietly followed him toward the garden arbor, leaving Aurora and the prince alone on the sunlit lawn.       “Of course, a bow isn’t a sword,” Aurora went on, watching him take the weapon with careful hands. “But I suppose you understand what I mean. A sword is for close combat and a bow is for distance. They’re very different…”       She looked at him again, a flicker of honesty softening her tone.       “For me, close combat is difficult. Knives, daggers… They’re all sharp edges, aren’t they? And arrows are sharp too. So I think you’ll find this comes naturally to you.”       Xavier listened quite captivated. This… This was far more compelling than the endless lectures about royal duty and kingly obligation. This felt real. Honest.       Alive.       He’d always preferred the weight of steel in his hand to the weight of a crown on his head.       “Yes,” he said, his fingers tracing the curve of the bow. “I think you’re right…”       By then, Jeremiah had settled onto a stone bench beneath the vine-draped arbor, arms crossed, gaze fixed on the pair in the distance. Simone and Tara lingered a few paces behind him close enough to watch, far enough not to intrude. Both trying and failing to pretend they weren’t watching every move their lady made.       Xavier caught himself glancing at her. Not just watching, but studying, as if trying to commit every detail to memory.       Why? He wondered. Just in case? Or… for something more?       She had storm-gray eyes, round cheeks that softened her sharp gaze, and a tiny mole on the left side of her nose. Yes… there.       A sweet scent clung to her, warm and faintly fruity, like sun-ripened apples or something even rarer, something from the southern orchards he’d only read about in trade reports.       She was tall, taller than most of the court ladies, and though she carried herself with the poised grace of a ruler, he could tell the heels were bothering her. She shifted her weight subtly, as if longing for the solid, unyielding earth beneath bare feet.       Just like someone who knew what it meant to be yourself, not merely to dwell in marble halls.       Yesterday, her makeup had been too bold. Dark lines, vivid lips, as if armor painted in kohl and rouge.       But today…       By court standards, she wasn’t a conventional beauty. Not a porcelain doll with rosebud lips and coiffed curls. But she was attractive. For real.       There was something magnetic in the way her gray eyes held the light, in the quiet confidence of her stance, in the way she seemed herself, even in a dress that clearly wasn’t meant for her.       She is pretty. And that made her infinitely more captivating.       Simone spoke softly in the Southern dialect:       “She’s not just teaching him to shoot… She’s teaching him how to feel himself comfortable.”       “Indeed,” Tara murmured, hiding a smile behind her hand. “I’ve never seen His Highness look so… peaceful.”       Duke Jeremiah listened in silence. He didn’t understand the Southern dialect, but words like “comfortable” and “His Highness” slipped through clearly enough.       His gaze rested on Xavier, watching how the prince fumbled with the bowstring, how Aurora gently adjusted his elbow without hesitation. How he laughed—actually laughed — when his arrow veered wildly off course, embedding itself in the grass or a distant tree trunk, nowhere near the target.       Jeremiah spoke his thoughts aloud.       “Just look at him. He’s practically glowing.”       Simone and Tara fell silent, turning to the Duke with guarded surprise.       “Our lady is very open by nature,” Tara said quietly, lowering her eyes.       The Duke nodded, his gaze still fixed on the sunlit lawn where Xavier, shaking damp strands of hair from his forehead, drew the bowstring once more.       “You’re very fortunate to have such a ruler,” Jeremiah said softly. “She’s… genuine. And in this palace, genuine people are as rare as stars in daylight.”       At that moment, Aurora’s voice carried across the lawn.       “Seven, Your Highness. That’s not a bad score at all!”       “Really?” the prince replied, surprise threading through his tone.       Aurora stepped closer, bowed politely, took the bow from his hands to let his fingers rest, and bowed again.       “You must be quite tired, Your Highness. Your hands aren’t used to this kind of strain yet.”       Xavier rubbed his fingertips, wincing slightly.       “To be honest… you were right. It’s far harder than I expected. I thought that since I’m skilled with a sword, the bow would come easily. But… It’s entirely different.”       “The sword is about strength, Your Highness,” Aurora said, crouching beside the quiver and selecting an arrow with a straight, smooth shaft. “But the bow teaches patience. You must learn to wait. And with a sword, that matters far less.”       “Can you use a sword, then?”       “Not very well. Close combat is not my cup of tea. But…” She glanced up with a faint, knowing smile. “I can slice an apple in midair.”              “Really? Wow!” His eyes lit up. “I’ve never tried that.”       Xavier glanced around the garden.       “I’ll have them gather a basket of apples. One of us will toss the apple and the other will slice it midair.”       Aurora froze for just a heartbeat.       “Won’t you be scolded for it?”       He smirked.       “They think I’m in a council meeting.”       “Then…” she said, rising to her feet and offering him the arrow once more, “Let’s make a deal: if you slice the apple, I’ll teach you to shoot without missing a single shot. All you need to provide are only the apples, Your Highness.”       He laughed loudly and the sound rippling through the garden like sunlight breaking through clouds.       “Deal. But… No one must find out I was swinging a sword instead of discussing taxes.”       From the arbor, Duke Jeremiah shook his head, smiling to himself.       “He’s not just glowing,” he murmured to Simone and Tara. “He’s coming alive.”       “I have a special sword, the one I take into battle,” Xavier said. “I’ve been on several campaigns already, and I’ll be honest… That’s far closer to my heart than any dull council meeting.”       Aurora nodded, looking at him with understanding.       “I’m not strong in that too, Your Highness. I prefer working with the land, with the gifts our earth provides. Because of where our villages are situated, we often have to defend our fields from the Wanderers’ attacking. That’s why I rely on the bow. It lets me fight from a distance. Sometimes I even use poisoned darts. And I have a sling! Can you believe it?”       Xavier gazed at her with open admiration.       “That’s… truly fascinating,” he murmured. “But how do you manage it all? Alone?”       “When I’m not at my residence, my grandmother helps me greatly,” Aurora replied, warmth softening her voice. “She’s a healer, a wise woman. And in her youth, she herself fought off the Wanderers… With an axe! It’s marvelous!” she sighed, her eyes drifting as if she could already see the southern fields. “But I haven’t been home much lately. It’s a haymaking season now. Ah… the scent of freshly cut grass… It beats any palace perfume. It’s as unique as the smell of rain-washed air or soil… or woodsmoke from a crackling fire is a great smell too.”       Xavier kept his eyes on her, listening as if memorizing every word. “I’d like to visit the South someday,” he said quietly, almost shyly. “I wanted to see those fields with my own eyes. Hear your songs. Breathe in those scents…”       Aurora turned to him and in her gray eyes, a spark flared to life.       “Come anytime, Your Highness!” she said, smiling wide and true. “The Southerners would be overjoyed to welcome you. We don’t have a big palace but we’ll teach you how to catch fish with your bare hands and cook them over an open flame, how to brew tea from wild leaves, and how to leap into the lake with a running start. Have you ever swung from tree branches?”       He laughed again.       “I promise you, I’ll come. Even if I have to slip away from a Council meeting.”       The Duke approached slowly, with Tara and Simona trailing just behind him.       “Forgive me, Your Highness,” Jeremiah said with a respectful bow, “But your time is up. You’re expected shortly for your meeting with the Eastern envoys.”       Aurora inclined her head gracefully to both men.       “Thank you, Your Highness.”       “It’s a pity our time ended so soon,” Xavier replied, his voice low but clear. “I hope this won’t be our last meeting.” He gave a small, sincere nod. His eyes lingering on hers just a heartbeat longer than proper.       Simone gathered the arrows to clean them, while Tara carefully wiped down the bow and wrapped it in soft linen cloth — the Southern way of preserving weapons. The two girls then bowed deeply to both the prince and the duke.       “It’s time to go, girls,” Aurora said quietly. Her eyes, usually so steady and bright, carried a faint shadow of disappointment.       “Is everything alright, my lady?” Tara asked gently.       “Shall we fetch you some water?” Simone added.       “No, thank you,” Aurora replied, giving a small, tired sigh. “It’s just… Let’s go back to the room.”