“Hope of our gates ever returning disappeared. It would mean living in a rotting land. Many fled for the sake of their families’ futures.”
“What do the butterflies have to do with it?”
He hesitates, clearly deciding whether he wants to share this information with me.
“The key is the magic in their wings,” he says simply. “No butterflies, no key. No plant, no butterfly.”
I form somewhat of an understanding, not fully, but the information is still useful.
Butterflies are the key.
Without the plants they need, they die off.
It’s simple, really. A life cycle.
I liken it to the Karner blue butterfly species back home. I learnt about it in a case study. They only lay their larvae on a single species of plant, lupine, I think. When wild lupine numbers rapidly declined, there was a huge conservation effort to help prevent their extinction. It always stuck with me. I wasn’t sure why back then, but I suppose it was the devastating tragedy that without each other, neither could survive. I’m lost in the thought of it before firm hands grip my sides and I’m lifted into the air before being gently placed on the ground.
“I could have gotten myself down, you know,” I mumble at him.
“I know,” is all he says, shrugging at me before catching up to Kael. I follow behind them both, as always, pacing to keep up. Turning down an alleyway, I follow them into a shop. Fabric and mannequins line the storefront. A woman looks up from behind her counter as we enter, needle still between her fingers. She casts a glance at Rowan and Kael, nodding her head in a sign of respect before her eyes land on me. Her brows raise up her forehead as she places her needle and fabric down and walks over to me.
“Come,” she says, already guiding me to the back. “I’ve been expecting you.”
I glance back at Rowan, feeling unsure and extremely out of my comfort zone. He gives a brief nod to me before taking a seat by the cash desk.
Okay then?
The woman whose name I learn is Lysa, looks to be around her mid-fifties. I get the impression that she doesn’t get many female customers anymore by her obvious excitement to dress me in several long gowns and skirts. I’m wearing a long, flowy dress, pale cream linen, light enough to move when I breathe and patterned with small blush pink flowers. The bodice fits well and its structure holds its shape, with a neckline that dips lower than I’m used to. It frames my cleavage, making me pause at myself in the mirror. Hesitating, I wiggle uncomfortably in the dress, then straighten, swaying to the side. The sleeves puff gently at the shoulder before falling into loose ruffles at my arms.
It’s feminine, delicate.
Certainly not something I’d wear back home, especially not since I'm almost always coated in mud. It’s something I’d have shaken my head at and tugged the neckline up, too worried about who might see me. But here, in a place where no one knows my name, or of the shy girl always lost amongst the gardens. I decide to hold my shoulders higher and revel in the moment. Lysa returns with an audible gasp,
“Oh my goodness, you’re beautiful!” She beams at me, picking at the seams and toying with my sleeves. I feel myself turn a shade pinker and cross my arms over myself instinctively.
“Oh no, that’s really nice of you to say, but—”
She cuts me off with a soft tutting sound, placing her hands on her hips and tilting her head at me.
“Listen,” she says, lowering her voice, “the world will give you enough reasons to make yourself smaller. Do not." She places me in front of the mirror again, standing behind me and meeting my eyes.
“Someone like you, you deserve to be seen, my love.” I smile at her, a genuine smile that makes something ache inside me. I wonder fleetingly if this is what it would have felt like to have a mother standing behind me. Whispering words of encouragement and strength. My throat tightens at the thought, the moment feeling too intimate. My eyes flick away from hers as I form a tight smile.
“You’ll wear this one out,” she winks at me before I realise I don’t even know how I’m paying for any of this. I step back into the shop. The soft chatter of the two knights stops as we enter. Kael looks up first, giving me a devilish grin. I roll my eyes at him, awaiting the commentary, which will inevitably come.
“That’s unfair,” he says, smiling
“Unfair how?”
“You didn’t warn a man. There should be rules about walking out looking that good,” he winks at me and I laugh softly. I feel the warmth blooming on my cheeks.
“You’re ridiculous."
“And you, plant girl, are beautiful,” he says in earnest this time.
“Thank you,” I respond. Rowan hasn’t said a word, though. He’s standing beside Kael, one hand resting loosely at his side, the other curled into the edge of his cloak. His hood is now down, showing the dark contours of his face. His gaze is unmistakable.
It’s fixed on me.
