Book One: The Marigold's Larkspur ~ A tale of mystery, magic, and obsession.

Chapter Thirteen

With breakfast came a taste of normalcy for the first time since her imprisonment, and Cressida found comfort in eating and chatting with Cilla. She kept expecting Quail to barge in, as he always did, with a bundle of excuses for his tardiness.

Cilla chatted about the various servants in the palace and remarked on how uptight the guards were compared to home. She avoided the heavy topic of Callidus and Ferox, focusing instead on sharing lighthearted anecdotes.

Until she glanced at the bouquet in the center of the dining table.

"Begonia in a bouquet?" Cilla muttered with a disapproving frown. "Is someone trying to threaten you?"

"Ah." Cressida's smile slipped from her lips as she recalled Callidus finding her in the hallway. "That bouquet was a gift from his highness."

Cilla scrutinized the flowers with narrowed eyes "Pentas, marigolds, carnations. An interesting combination."

Cressida realized that Cilla was hinting at something beyond the bouquet's appearance.

"He wouldn't know the flower language." Cressida said quickly. "He's Ashlarian."

"Books on the subject are easy enough to find."

Cressida regarded the flowers in a new light. Did Callidus intentionally choose those flowers, or was it a mere coincidence?

"What did pentas mean again?" Cressida asked, wracking her brain for what should be common knowledge.

"New beginnings." Cilla replied.

"That's right." Cressida mumbled. "Carnations for admiration. Begonia for caution. Baby's breath for innocence. Marigolds for divinity."

"And jealousy." Cilla added, "Not to mention nearly all these flowers are red."

Red for passion.

A knot formed in Cressida's stomach. She was aware that the language of flowers was subjective and open to interpretation, but the combination of flowers in the bouquet now seemed deliberate.

"What kind of message would that be?" Cressida muttered.

"A mixed one, to say the least."

Cressida placed her fork down, leaning back in her chair. "I think I'm finished."

Cilla reached for Cressida's plate and carefully picked out the remaining strawberries from her oatmeal. "Have all your meals been this good, or is this an exception?"

"They've all been like this." Cressida paused. "Actually, they used to be larger."

"Shame I wasn't with you from the start."

Cressida smiled as she watched Cilla pop berry after berry into her mouth. "If you had been, I would've let you eat all my dessert."

"The fact that you get dessert at all is astounding." Cilla commented. "I'm sure when they finally lock me up, I'll only be eating bread and rats."

Cressida's smile faltered, "You won't be."

"That's right. I'll have Quail with me. He can charm the rats into bringing me their cheese instead."

"No," Cressida frowned. "You won't be locked up."

"I wouldn't be sure of that, your highness." Cilla's expression shifted into something more serious. "Things are tense inside the palace. If you got Quail's note, then you know that some of our people are already imprisoned."

"Only those that were involved with the feast."

Cilla frowned. "No. Not only them. Perla was imprisoned a few days ago for 'looking suspicious.'"