A Devious Exchange

Pretty Little Flowers

A heavy warmness seeped into the backside of my blouse and burned the back of my neck. The breeze had quietened down to mere whistles by the time we got to castle grounds. It was now excruciatingly hot, enough so I took off my bonnet to cover the thin skin of my neck, leaving my dark hair to battle the sun's rays itself. Luckily, I packed some water to keep my head from growing dizzy or nauseous.

But dang, could the sunset come any sooner?

The sun was teasing my eyes in only barely descending to the horizon behind us. I could see the shadow of the carriage elongate in front of us the more the sun fell, dulling the bright colors of the country into a darker hue. It's almost funny how the scenery of the day could mask into a completely different person when night fell.

I wondered if people were that way too.

My previous visit to the castle had robbed me of the spectacular view I see now. The elaborate estate had an extremely detailed iron gate concealing its secret garden. Each bar had intricate display of vines and petals welded to wrap around each column, almost completely obstructing the view to outsiders. A set of guards opened the gate upon Nicholas' signal, a cobble road leading us inside. The road was adorned with spots of moss and precarious weeds thriving from within the rocks' cracks. But upon lifting my gaze from the rocks, I was met with a very symmetrical yard that almost looked like a low maze. The clipped ferns and bushes were arranged in its squared perimeter, not a single leaf out of place.

Opting to shadow my eyes with a hand over my brow, I could make out the colorful assortment of flowers of the Queen's selection within the bushes' protective wall. A kiss of the sunset's orange seeped into the petals of the amaryllises and tiger lilies, the latter being much more vibrant in the dusk. There seemed to be more lilies than any other flower, the amaryllises coming second, almost making the entire garden filled with the powerful array of orange like a monarch butterfly, but nonetheless very attractive to the eye.

Much closer to the castle were the rarer and more delicate assortments of richer flowers. Royal red begonias were potted in clusters and placed on various outdoor plateaus and fountain ledges, soaking in the heat to further deepen their hues. In opposite, belladonnas lined the cobble pathway and window alcoves, opting for the shade in a nervous retreat. They were almost pure white with cups of pastel pink dyed in their centers, like they were hiding inside their dainty fortress.

All these flowers were foreign to Helacia, making me wonder how the royal gardeners kept up with them. Each had its own guide that had to be followed to the t.' The only reason I knew about them was from Mrs. Katherine from the Izwalds. She's a florist at the market, selling all sorts of these flowers from shipments oversees. She was always so busy with shipments and their maintenance, taking up much of her time from the family. But when she had a surplus, she'd gift the flowers she didn't sell that season to us, in thanks for watching her daughter.

My favorite had always been simple, red tulips.

Just beyond the upfront of orange and red, I could barely make out the brightest yellows I've ever seen. Their little dots almost resembled weeds, like wild dandelions, and they grew along the back wall sporadically, unlike the Queen's neat assortments. Maybe they're tansies? The gardeners must've let those grow out by accident, much like the patch of dying snap dragons not too far from them. I originally thought those to be beautiful, until my nose started to run whenever I caught a whiff of their pollen. Good thing they're in the back.

The Queen had specific tastes, extremely colorful and royal to the finest degree if that. Almost... too perfect. The garden's neatly cut edges and precise planting were too unnatural and a tad overbearing. I'm not one to judge though, I'd probably never come across such an assortment for another lifetime. But I did spot a few circular fountains to disrupt the cornered symmetry, a well-polished and greyed brick fountain to contrast with the overhaul of greenery. It's more pleasing to the eye, and the brick did match the walls of the castle nonetheless.