Page 11 of Where Shadows Bloom

And you! My daylight,

I cannot gather up the words I want to give to you.

I want to weave them into a crown

And softly place it on your brow.

Standing in your radiance,

Each word a kiss—

“Lope!”

Ofelia’s lilting voice struck me, and to my horror, Iremembered that she was sitting right beside me on the driver’s bench. I slammed the notebook shut, my face aflame.

Enough, I chastised myself,you cannot protect her when you lose yourself like this.

My cheeks burned, my heart thrummed against my breast, and Ihatedit. Yes, without a heart, I’d be a sore poet, but with one... well. A tender heart was an easy target.

The sun gilded Ofelia’s curls as she turned toward me on the bench. “Have you found some inspiration?”

Ah. There was my heart again.

“Oh, um—a little bit. I’ve not written anything good yet.”

Ofelia smiled at the world shining before us. “I bet the palace will inspire you.” She squeezed her hands together like she was praying. “I cannot wait to see it. I hope it’s as magnificent as I’ve dreamed.” The light dimmed in her eyes somewhat as she added, “And—and Mother will be there, I know it. She’ll show us around. She’ll teach us the ways of the court.”

She took a shaky breath and pasted on a hopeful grin. “It sounds so splendid. Mother once said they change gowns at Le Château several times a day. And that for parties, all the courtiers dress in the same color, whatever the king chooses. She once told me about dancing at one of those balls with my father....”

The way she was staring so distantly out at the road, theway she wrapped herself in stories like a warm, soothing blanket—I could tell how worried she was for her mother. She kept her fear tucked aside, as I did. Yet I did so out of duty, as her knight. Why did she keep her heart guarded now?

“My lady?” I murmured.

She blinked rapidly, waking herself from her reverie. Her brown eyes flitted up my body and back down again, glimmering with mischief. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a gown.”

Heat flooded my cheeks. “It—it has never been necessary.”

“It soonshallbe necessary! When you’re at the palace with me, you’ll have to be dressed up as wonderfully as the rest of us.” She beamed. “You’ll have to wear your hair down like I do. Can I see it?”

My eyes grew wide. “My hair?”

“Yes,” she said. She tossed me the reins, leaving me scrambling to grasp them as she reached across the driver’s bench. She unwound the ribbon I’d kept my queue in. My hair tumbled down my shoulders, nearly to the small of my back. My whole body went hot as liquid metal. My breath sat tight in my chest. Her fingers softly combed through the knots and tangles, and I imagined her counting each and every silver hair. Instead, she said, “Oh, how beautiful!”

“It—it’s a mess. It gets in the way,” I muttered. “It’s best to keep it tied. It could get in my eyes in a fight—”

“There won’t be any fights at Le Château,” she said. As I stared ahead at the road, her fingers grazed across my scalp, and she tenderly swept my hair into three sections, winding them slowly into a plait over my shoulder. “Do you think it’s true? That there aren’t any Shadows there?”

Such a world would be better than any dream. Then again, I felt quite certain that I was in a dream right then, her soft rose perfume curling around me, flooding my senses. Chills danced down my neck as she swept her fingers through my hair.

“It—it couldn’t be,” I murmured. “There are Shadows everywhere.”

“Yes, but the palace isn’t like everywhere else.” Her fingers tenderly tied off the plait she had fashioned in my hair by securing the end with my ribbon. “Perfect.”

Her hands returned to her lap, and I felt something like homesickness at the absence of her touch.

“Thank you again,” said Ofelia softly. “I didn’t ask you to come because you are my knight but because you’reyou. Leaving everything behind, going on this mission with me... it is a lot to ask. Especially given the danger. You’re my dearest friend. But what kind of friend am I to put you at risk?”

Some distant, logical part of myself understood that the two of us were close, that we were friendly—yet joy still spread like a hearth fire within me at her words. She enjoyedme. She preferred my company.

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