“I believe you have three questions for today,” I choke out, needing to pull my mind from its lustful web of thoughts.
Azalea tilts her head to one side as she considers what her first question of the day to be.
“Out of questions for me already?” I prod curiously. I imagined she would be bursting with questions, especially after yesterday.
She shakes her head. “No. I’m simply being careful with my words.”
“Scared of hurting my feelings?”
“Scared you’ll cheat like you did yesterday and take my questions away from me.”
I push my tongue against the inside of my cheek. I deserve that. “I’ll play fair. After all, I let you have three questions instead of two even after I answered your extra question yesterday.” I reply watching as she rolls her lips together. Clearly, she thought I’d forgotten.
“There weren’t any flowers in my room this morning.”
I winced. I couldn’t believe she’d noticed that. With my pounding headache this morning, I didn’t get up in time to pick them and bring them to her room before she woke.
I look ahead, not able to meet her curious amber eyes. I didn’t think she’d care this much that there weren’t flowers in her room this morning. Part of me wondered if she would even notice, and now that I knew she had, I couldn’t help but feel some sense of victory in the fact that an action I did meant something to her.
“I woke up too late to bring them to your room,” I admit.
Her feet pause in their movements, and I feel a slight tug on my arm as she remains momentarily frozen in place.
“Wait. You bring me my flowers?” She doesn’t even try to hide the incredulous look on her face.
“Do you want that to be your second question of the day?” I’m partially giving her an out with my question, but I also selfishly don’t want to answer her.
“That would only be my first question.”
I blink at her. “No, you—”
“I made a statement that there weren’t any flowers in my room. How you chose to continue the conversation was of your own accord.”
My mouth momentarily hangs agape as I replay our conversation in my head.
“Sneaky,” I grumble under my breath, but I can’t hide my admiration in her ability to trick me.
“Strategic,” she states, and for a brief moment a smile curves up her face wide enough to showcase her dimple. I want to bottle this moment in my memory, if only to have something to hold onto when it all inevitably slips away from me.
After a momentary pause, she rephrases her first question of the day. “Why do you bring me flowers every morning?”
I wish I’d never given her the opportunity to rephrase her question because this is the first question she’s asked me that I truly do not want to answer.
I clear my throat, trying to buy myself time. “Someone I once knew believed that flowers held much more power than people gave them credit for, which is why they’re often used in accordance with magic.” I pull my lips inward, running my tongue along them as I contemplate how much I can say. “I guess I bring them to you every morning hoping they can instill some of that power into you.”
Her brow furrows as she studies me. “And why would you want me to have power?”
“More-so, I want to restore the power that was taken from you.”
“Because of the curse.” She nibbles her lip pensively. “You know that won’t make up for the fact that you’re the reason I lost that power in the first place.” The typical bite in her tone is absent, making her words sound almost careful, like she really wants me to hear what she’s saying.
I’m saved from having to respond as we come up to the picnic spot. There’s a clearing in the grass with a quilted blanket spread out across it. Thanks to the perpetual sunny days that cover the castle due to the curse, we’re blessed with a golden glow beamingacross the field. Over top of the blanket, is a basket filled with the food I specifically requested in accordance with my knowledge of what Azalea loves. There’s fresh bread, sliced meats and cheeses, a variety of fruits, some of her favorite roasted potatoes, and lastly, two slices of butter cake that were carefully packed to keep from getting squashed.
Striding over, I let Azalea’s grip slip from my arm as I take my seat on the blanket. I purposefully picked a quilt that was smaller in size, so if Azalea wanted to avoid sitting on the grass, she would have to involuntarily sit somewhat close to me. I pat the blanket, beckoning for her to take a seat as I begin to take the food out of the basket.
After placing the pieces of a cake on the blanket, I pull out two bowls, one with whipped cream and one with strawberries. I scoop some of the toppings onto each piece of cake before sitting back on my haunches and admiring my work. Once the food is laid out, Azalea begins to look it all over while she takes her seat next to me.
I reach back into the basket to pull out the two forks at the bottom of it, and before I can place them down, I feel Azalea snatch one of the utensils out of my hand.
