Page 27 of Where Shadows Bloom

You bring me life, you hold me,

You turn me toward the sun

I paused, imagining my small, stumbling voice as I’d read this to her. But I could never dare to do such a thing. Mymetaphors were poor, my words were so weak. She deserved perfection. And she certainly didn’t deserve the paltry affection of a common knight.

I sighed and massaged my eyes. “Gods above, numerous and unknowable, please give me the strength to keep her safe.”

Even if this ritual was useless, I had to carry it out. The orphanage that raised me taught me to be devout, and a part of me clung desperately to the constancy of the faith I had found there. Even if my cries were to fall on ears that did not care to hear... I had to try.

I carefully fed the poem into the flame. Ashes crumbled into the candlestick. I waited. I watched the smoke rise.

When I prayed, sometimes I thought I could hear a voice. I could remember the sound, remember the tone, but whatever that voice had said, I could never remember.

Maybe that would be the only sign of holiness I’d ever receive.

Maybe I was only calling into empty darkness.

“Lope?”

I turned. I had been so ensnared by my own worries and prayers that I hadn’t noticed Ofelia stirring. She was sitting in her bed now, rubbing her eyes. Her hair was an artful mess of copper curls.

“Yes, my lady?” I replied. I dug my nails into my hand to suppress the foolish, lovesick smile building within me from just looking at her.

She blinked slowly and sleepily. Her shoulders were slumped, as if the night’s slumber hadn’t been restorative enough. “I thought this place would be a dream,” she mumbled, her words slow as the fog of sleep lifted. “I thought we’d find Mother and that we could live here and be happy, but... I feel more confused than ever. More hopeless than ever.” She bunched the embroidered sheets in her fists. “All those things that lady said last night. It feels as if I don’t really know my mother. I... I almost wonder if she isn’t coming at all. If she abandoned me. Like she abandoned her old life. I worry those stories about my mother were true.”

I could see the storm clouds in her eyes. My heart fractured. She did not deserve to live in a world with dreary skies.

“I’m sure that isn’t so, my lady,” I said. “They like stories and rumors around here. And a good story is always exaggerated.” I slowly crossed the room and held out my hand for hers. “Your mother would never abandon you. I’m certain she will arrive at the palace in a day or so.”

I did not fully believe my own words, but the hope dawning on Ofelia’s face made me want to.

“Come,” I said, pulling her up gently, “we’ve come all this way, and you have yet to show me those beautiful gardens you always read about. Perhaps the sun on your skin will lift your spirits.”

Her hand squeezed mine. “A walk would be nice.”

I nodded. “We will continue to investigate. Ask everyonewe meet if they’ve seen your mother. And we shall stay at the palace until she arrives.”

Ofelia smiled. “No one knows how to make my heart glad like you do, Lope.”

My face burned. Her smile widened into a grin, and she slipped out of her bed. She approached one of her windows, parting the latched doors of the shutters. Beyond lay vast gardens with fountains spraying mist like rain high into the air, glimmering with rainbows.

“Oh my,” she said breathlessly. The sun glowed yellow upon her freckled skin. She was a daisy, blooming in the dawn.

The second we pushed open the doors leading outside, we were overtaken by a flood of bright sunshine. I blinked back stars, disoriented and dizzy—and then the world came into focus.

Before us, the sky was an endless blue canvas, without a single cloud. White gravel walkways extended before us far into the distance, interrupted by terraces with boxwoods and rows upon rows of flowers, kept in tidy, colorful beds.

Ofelia cried out in delight and barreled toward the nearest flower bed, bending as low as she could to smell the lavender and freesias. She knelt down on the gravel and practically embraced the flowers. “Lope, come smell them!” she called.

I laughed and joined her, kneeling in the dusty pathway,the rocks pressing against my knees through my stockings and breeches. The delicate, beautiful scents washed around me.

Her fingers brushed each leaf and petal so gently, so lovingly. When I closed my eyes, I could almost see her caressing my cheek with that same fond look upon her face.

I woke from my reverie when I heard a small gaggle of people laughing not too far away. My eyes flew open, and to our left, a group of courtiers tittered as they looked our way, at the two girls kneeling in the dirt.

Ofelia leapt to her feet and dusted off her skirts, her cheeks flaming the bright pink of a sunrise.

“Let’s walk on,” she said softly.

---