Delicate Flower

Chapter Twenty ♡

Chapter T w e n t y
    

     
        Juliette stood at the edge of the grand hallway, her head bowed, hands wrung tight in front of her. The once-pristine pink ribbon she had tied around the strawberry tarte now dangled sadly from her fingers, stained with dirt and jam. Her lower lip trembled, though she tried very hard not to let it.

She sniffled once before pushing open the heavy kitchen doors.

Inside, the scent of baked bread and simmering meat filled the air, wrapping her like a blanket. Her feet padded quietly across the warm stone floor until she spotted him—Greg, standing at the counter, arms  crossed, his apron dusted in flour. His usually gruff, warm demeanor twisted into concern the moment he saw her.

"Jules," he said, dropping his knife. "Where were you? You weren't at the gardens. You didn't touch your lunch."

Juliette gave him a small, sheepish smile. "I... I was just delivering a tarte."

"A tarte," he repeated flatly.

She nodded. "Strawberry. It was for Xandy-uh Xander." She quickly corrected remembering him asking not to share his secret nickname.

Greg's jaw clenched so tightly the muscle in his cheek ticked. "The guard?"

She nodded again, looking down.

"I swear, that bloody–" He cut himself off, muttering something beneath his breath. "Juliette. What did I tell you about sneaking off?"

"I wasn't sneaking," she said quickly, hands flying up in defense. "I just... I wanted to surprise him. That's all. And—well—" she hesitated. "Something happened."

Greg turned toward her fully now, his forehead creasing into a deep frown. "What happened?"

Juliette's voice dropped. "I ran into someone. A woman. She was tall and cold and... well, mean. And when I told her I was looking for Xander, she—she laughed. Called me... dululu."

Greg blinked. "Dulu—what now?"

"Dululu," Juliette repeated quietly, eyes dropping to the floor. "I think it means silly. Or stupid. Or both."

A long silence passed.

"She threw the tarte, Greg." Her lip trembled slightly. "Right to the ground. Didn't even look at it."

The room went very still.

Greg's hands curled slowly into fists, knuckles whitening. "She what?"

Juliette sniffed but tried to smile. "It's fine! Really! I just... I don't know. She was so regal. She had a pearl tiara on her head t-too."

Greg's eyes darkened. "That entitled vulture. That must have been princess Alexa or one of the Noirsèmers royal guests. She's not even from here, parading through the halls like she owns the bloody kingdom."

Juliette blinked. "She said Xander doesn't exist."

"She would," he growled. "You listen to me, Jules. That girl—no, that snake—was sent here for power. She's poison wrapped in perfume. If she comes near you again, you come straight to me. Or Xander. That man would rip through walls if he thought you were hurt."

Juliette flushed slightly. "I just wish he was there Gregg.. All I w-wanted was to see his smile when I give him the tarte..." Her voice broke.

Greg gently placed a hand on her head. "Forget the tarte, sweet Jules. That woman's got a mouth full of poison and a heart like stone. You did nothing wrong. Nothing."