the King's petals

      “Well hello, Grandmaaa!!! It’s gotten a bit colder here in Sindersfell, but they’ve kindly provided me with warm things to wear. I hadn’t expected such a big changes in the weather. His Highness has been very kind to me. We’ve taken several walks together in the palace. He’s truly good… Always asking about my life back home. He even loved the dagger I gave him! He wears it every day! Can you believe it? So many ladies have already left the palace. I’m not sure what comes next. I miss you terribly and hope to see you soon… This week, His Highness is organizing a hunt. The forests here are nothing like ours! I’ll be sure to gather berries and herbs for you! We’ll make remedies for our Southerners together. Yours, Rorie.”       Aurora wrote carefully, neatly, but so much was left unsaid.       She couldn’t bring herself to confess that the prince came to her chambers almost every night now, long after the palace had quieted, just to sit and listen as she spoke of sun-drenched orchards and childhood scrapes.       She didn’t mention how Tara had shown Xavier the runes she’d drawn on Aurora’s wrist and how he hadn’t laughed, but traced them gently with his thumb, as if memorizing their shape.       She left out Simone’s whispered dream of opening a school, which she’d shyly shared with the prince over tea one afternoon and how he’d nodded thoughtfully and said “The kingdom needs minds like yours.”       With each passing day, Aurora grew more accustomed to Xavier’s presence. Not as a future king, but as a very good man. And strangely, no one seemed to question it anymore. Not the servants who bowed lower when they passed together. Not the few remaining guests, who had long since stopped whispering. Or perhaps simply accepted they’d already lost?       She had finally returned his cloak.       But she would never admit how she’d pressed her face into its folds when no one was looking, breathing in the lingering trace of him: cedar, steel and something warm, like sunlight on stone.       She no longer held back her laughter. Loud, unrestrained, the kind that made her double over and clutch her chest. She told slightly scandalous but hilarious stories from village festivals without a hint of shame. She didn’t flinch at being seen in her thin shift, her long, dark hair loose down to her hips, swaying with every step, modestly draping what it could. She even demonstrated the wild, joyful traditional of Southern weddings.       Tara and Simone watched from the doorway, exchanging quiet smiles, hearts swelling at the sight of their lady is truly alive, glowing in a way they hadn’t seen since before her parents’ death.       “When we have weddings back home,” Aurora said, still breathless from twirling, “The celebration lasts almost a whole week. Can you imagine, Your Highness?”       “I’d love to see it in person,” Xavier replied, lingering on the flush in her cheeks.       “Simone’s been promised to a young man for ages,” Aurora added with a teasing nudge, “But she keeps refusing him.”       “Do you not like him?” Xavier asked, turning politely to the flustered handmaiden.       Simone dropped her eyes, fingers twisting the hem of her apron.       “It’s not like that, Your Highness… It’s just… I want to fulfill my dream first. Marriage can wait.”       “And what is your dream, if it’s not a secret?” he asked gently.       “I want to open a school in our village, Your Highness.”       “That’s worthy of the deepest respect!” Xavier said, his tone sincere, eyes alight with admiration. “And you will do it! I have no doubt.”       Simone’s cheeks burned, but she gave a small, grateful nod.       And in that moment, Aurora looked at Xavier. Her heart swelled.       Because here, with him, she wasn’t just Lady Vale, ruler of the South.       She was simply Aurora.       And for the first time, that felt like enough.       “And you, Tara, what does your future look like?” Xavier asked, turning to the other handmaiden with genuine curiosity.       Tara smiled, a soft, knowing light in her eyes.       “I want to study runes seriously, Your Highness. To heal, to guide… to help people the way my great-grandmother did.”       “That’s no small path,” Xavier said, impressed. “I noticed the markings on Lady Vale’s wrist. Those are runes, aren’t they?”       “Yes, Your Highness,” Tara replied, glancing at Aurora with a hint of mischief. “But I can’t tell you their meaning. If I speak it aloud, it won’t come true.”       “Ah,” Xavier said, eyes gleaming with amusement and something deeper, like wonder. “So I’ll just have to wait and see, then, Lady Vale.”       Aurora flushed instantly, lowering her gaze as she tugged her sleeve down over the faint, still-visible symbols. She didn’t say a word, but inside, her heart fluttered like a bird caught in summer wind. He remembered. He noticed.       “We’ll wait for the hunt,” Lady Beatrice said toher handmaiden before going to bed. “His Highness clearly has something in mind.”       Tomorrow the hunt would begin.       And in the shadowed corners of Sindersfell, where ivy crept up stone walls, the remaining girls made their own plans.       Each of the remaining young women had her own plan for the hunt.       Lady Elianna had chosen her finest riding gown. Deep emerald, tailored to flatter, embroidered with silver thread that caught the light like morning dew. She’d practiced graceful dismounts in the mirror, rehearsed witty remarks about falconry, and memorized the names of every noble stag in the royal forest.       Lady Camilla decided to say little. Only to watch, observe, and let the prince notice her quiet elegance, her poised silence a contrast to her wildness.       Lady Sophia planned to accidentally twist her ankle near a stream. Just enough to need his help, just enough for him to carry her back, just enough to create a moment no one could ignore.       And Aurora?       She’d packed a small satchel of linen, stitched with her own hands. Inside, she’d tucked a knife for cutting stems, a cloth for wiping dew off leaves, and a tiny leather-bound notebook filled with sketches of medicinal herbs. She intended to stay close to His Highness because she’d asked permission to gather healing plants in the royal woods, and he’d granted it without hesitation.       “He’s truly kind,” she thought, fingers brushing the smooth bark of a birch as she walked beside him earlier that morning. “Not just as a future king… But as a man.”       Again and again, the same idea circled in her mind.

“Even if he doesn’t choose me… I wouldn’t mind staying friends.”

      She’d welcome him in the South anytime. They can ride through the vineyards, she can teach him to fish barefoot in the creek, share bread under the stars. And she’d visit Sindersfell too, if he’d have her not as a candidate, not as a suitor, but as Aurora.       After all, the doors of Vale’s residence had always been open to travelers, strangers, and friends alike.

But for him?

      She’d leave them wide open.       “You’re awfully nervous, my lady,” Simona said, gently working the tangles from Aurora’s long, dark hair with a wooden comb.       Tara sat cross-legged on the floor, runes spread around her like fallen leaves, her brow furrowed in concentration.       “I can ask the servants about what’s in season in the forest if anything on your list grows near the hunting grounds,” Tara offered.       “Yes, that would be wonderful,” Aurora replied, though her fingers twisted the hem of her nightgown. “And no. I’m not nervous. It’s just… my sleep has been all wrong lately.”       “What will you wear tomorrow?” Simone asked, carefully braiding a section of hair.       Aurora gave a small, wry laugh.       “His Highness has already seen me in every possible state and from every angle.”       The girls burst into quiet giggles.       “It’s dreadful!” Aurora groaned, hiding her face in her hands. “I’ve never behaved so shamelessly in front of a man! Where are my manners?”       “Don’t worry, my lady,” Tara said, glancing up with a knowing glint in her eye. “His Highness seems very… Ahem. Very pleased by it. The way he looks at you like he’s ready to claim you right then and there, just to make sure you never belong to anyone else.”       Aurora’s face burned crimson.       “Good heavens! What an improper thought!”       “We’re not children anymore, my lady,” Tara said calmly, though her lips twitched. “And you know exactly what I mean.”       “Tara!” Simone gasped, barely containing her laughter.       “No doubt about it,” Tara continued, unfazed. “His Highness feels something for you. Just watch him! The truth is written all over his face.”       Aurora turned toward the window, heart pounding, but said nothing. Because she already knew.       “It’s terrifying to imagine… Um… Like how he might touch me,” Aurora murmured, voice dropping to a whisper, eyes fixed on her hands. “I mean… As a woman…”       “What’s so wrong with that, my lady?” Tara replied. “It’s actually quite lovely.”       “Oh, heavens! How embarrassing!” Simone flushed, fanning herself with a loose braid.       “Well, maybe if you didn’t send every boy in the village running for the hills, you’d know!” Tara teased.       “At least I don’t know all their secrets!” Simona shot back.       “I learn from observation!” Tara declared with mock dignity.       “Girls, please,” Aurora sighed, shaking her head but she was smiling, despite the heat rising in her cheeks. “I’m serious. I really am afraid. Of course… It might never happen. But still… What’s it even like? To be that close to a man?”       Tara’s expression softened.       “If he truly values and respects you, he’ll never be rough. Never force anything.”       “He’ll watch you,” Simone added gently. “Listen to your breath, your silence, the way you move… Just to make sure you feel safe. That you feel wanted, not taken.”       Aurora’s blush deepened. She bit her lip, then looked up, bewildered.       “Wait… Why aren’t you stopping me from thinking such… Such improper things?”       “Because it’s normal, my lady!” both girls said in unison, then burst into laughter.       “His Highness is far stronger than he looks,” Simona said, carefully fastening a leather cord at the end of Aurora’s braid.       “He carried you like you weighed nothing at all,” Tara added, smoothing the folds of Aurora’s riding tunic.       “I don’t remember much…” Aurora whispered. “Only that he gave me his cloak because I was cold.”       “Because your dress was… Well, not exactly fit for court after chasing raiders through a ravine,” Simone said gently.       Aurora did remember that vividly. The way he’d wrapped her in his cloak. The way she’d instinctively pressed her cheek to his chest, seeking warmth, comfort, safety…       And now, the memory burned with fresh shame.       “He must think I’m shameless!” she groaned, covering her face with her hands. “Back home, girls who act like that have their hair cut off and locked in the dark without food or water for days!”       “He would never think that of you, my lady,” Tara said firmly. “Not for a second.”       “You charged into danger for him,” Simone added. “You fought and you saved him. That’s not shameless. That’s a real courage.”       Aurora lowered her hands slowly, eyes glistening.

What if he sees me as… Reckless? Foolish?

      “To fight for him is my duty to His and Her Majesties,” Aurora said quietly, her voice steady despite the ache in her chest. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat. Without hesitation.”       “None of the others would dare,” Simona said with quiet scorn. “They look regal in their silks and pearls, but inside? Stuffed with sawdust and dust. Hollow.”       The comparison made Aurora chuckle softly, but genuine.       “Believe me, my lady,” Tara added, kneeling to adjust the strap of Aurora’s shoe, “His Highness isn’t foolish. He sees. He sees everything.”       “He’s brilliant, my lady,” Simone continued, eyes shining. “He reads constantly. History, philosophy, astronomy, even old herbal texts. He’s courteous, deeply respectful, and brave beyond measure. And while you were feverish… He came every evening. Sat right there,” she pointed to the chair by the bed. “Never once flinched when we tended to you, when we changed your bandages, held you upright to drink, wiped your face. He didn’t leave. And he asked about your childhood, your family, the way you train with the bow, how you calm restless horses… He was learning you, piece by piece, through us.”       Aurora swallowed hard, her throat tight.       All this time, she thought she’d been the only one watching, wondering, remembering.

But he’d been doing the same.

      “He spoke to us as equals,” Simone said. “Even asked how we came to serve you. When we told him about the raids… The one where the villagers saved us from the Wanderers, his face… it hardened. He was angry. Said no one had ever reported how often the Southern Lands are attacked. That they’d hidden the truth from His Majesty.”       Aurora went very still.       Of course, warmth bloomed in her chest pride, gratitude, something tender. But beneath it coiled fear.       She’d wear something practical, something the prince’s servants had thoughtfully laid out for her.       “I’ll take the green one,” Aurora said, running her fingers over the supple fabric. “It’ll blend with the trees. Good for moving quietly.”       “I’ll pack extra satchels, my lady,” Simone offered, already rummaging through the travel chest. “More pockets mean more herbs, more mushrooms, more mosses… The flora here is nothing like ours. You might find something rare. And His Highness won’t mind.       Tara knelt by the window, polishing Aurora’s shoes.       “Celeste must be bored stiff,” she said with a fond sigh. “The grooms here treat her like a queen! They brush her coat, braid her mane, feed her sweet apples, but they don’t play with her like you do, my lady. No galloping bareback at dawn, no racing through orchards just to feel the wind…”       Aurora smiled.       “Then, I’ll give her a proper run. Even if it’s just to the edge of the hunting grounds.”       She fastened the belt of the green dress and tucked her knife into its sheath.