Ispent every spare moment during the final days of the week painting. Drawing had always been my forte, but I felt that a painting might be perceived as showing more effort at the Floral Fete.
After going back and forth about which flower to paint as I’d been sitting in the flower garden, a stunning pink foxglove at least four feet tall seemed to call out to me. The soft bells of its petals fluttered open, their fragrance drifting on the air to my nose.
The decision was made then and there. Yasmin had allowed me to store the painting in her room overnight, so I didn’t have to haul it back and forth to campus. On Friday morning, I dropped off the finished painting—covered by a drape—to Professor Tenella. As I did so, I saw other lead floral affinities bringing in stunning floral wreaths, glass bottles of swirling fresh perfumes, floral-infused cosmetics and healing ointments, and even a few food products.
“I tried to raid the costume closet early,” Yasmin said, entering the room with a stack of gowns over her arms. Coral and I turned from where we were swiping magically enhanced cream eye shadow across our lids in Yasmin’s mirror.
“Ohhh, let me see,” I said, moving to help her make space in the closet to hang them. I’d learned that the Floral Fete did a period theme each year, and this year was Regency-esque. I eagerly sifted through the collection of stunning embroidered gowns in various colors.
“There’s enough for us each to try on a few,” Yasmin said.
As we took turns donning the gowns, I noticed that the soft plant-based fabric tightened and trimmed itself automatically to fit each of our different body shapes. Yasmin claimed the gowns had been charmed by Professor Variegata for the day. Automatic custom tailoring? Now that was something I could get used to.
In the end, I selected a pale purple gown with a modern twist. Instead of the traditional cap sleeves of a Regency gown, it had delicate straps that tied at the top of my shoulders with a bow. The ends of the gown trailed along the floor with wisteria flowers overlaying it.
We used the flowers Aurielle had brought to weave colorful blooms into our hair. I used my floral affinities to affix them firmly in place and plump up their cells so that they wouldn’t droop throughout the night.
When we were all ready and turned to look at ourselves in the mirror, it was like we had stepped out of some kind of enchanted film set.
“It’s nice having a floral affinity friend,” Coral mused, and Aurielle gave me a high five on her way out of Yasmin’s room.
The party was held in the flower gardens, which had been made over for the day. Flowers wereeverywhere, trailing overhead in an impossible fashion. The place smelled like the most perfect mixture of floral essential oils, not too overwhelming but just right. Students milled around in their dresses and suits, looking whimsical and dashing all at once.
And then I spotted Callan.
He was in a perfectly tailored black suit with a deep green tie that matched that of the leaves of the trees around us. He approached us and offered me his arm. I tried to calm the rapid way my heart was suddenly beating.
“You could have warned me you’d be showing up in a suit,” I whispered.
“I’m the one who needed a warning. You look”—he let his eyes trail over my dress, my shoulders, and my hair and land on my eyes, where I’d taken special care with Yasmin’s magical makeup and Nevah’s lash serum recipe—“breathtaking.”
“Well, it’s amazing what some magic makeup and clothes that can automatically form fit to your body will do.”
“You give magic too much credit,” he said quietly, but he didn’t explain what he meant. “So, where’s this drawing I’ve been eager to see?”
“Actually, I ended up doing a painting.” We followed my friends toward the gazebo where the various creations were displayed. My eyes widened when I saw that my painting was on an artist’s gold easel trailing with flowers, right in the center of the display.
Whoever had placed my painting there had framed it with pink-and-white flowers that made the colors of my painting pop, perfectly accentuating the textured foxglove I’d paintedagainst a dark background. With the arrangement, the bells of the foxglove seemed to jump off the page.
“Oh no,” I breathed.
“Oh no?” Callan asked, confusion lacing his voice.
“I was hoping it would just be lying down on a table or perched casually against a wall, barely noticeable.”
Callan nudged me inside the gazebo, and I saw that a few students were gathered around my painting, while others explored the various goods in the gazebo.
“Stunning,” I heard someone whisper.
“The style is like something out of the Renaissance period,” another commented.
Professor Tenella came to stand beside me then. “Absolutely lovely, Briar. Where have you been hiding that talent?”
“I usually stick to drawing, though I have to say I really enjoyed getting into painting again.”
“Well, it’s an absolute gem. Thank you for sharing it with us.”
I let out a deep breath as Professor Tenella walked away. “She actually thinks it’s good?” I breathed.
