“Felicity, if this is my dream future, then you’d be free too. No curses or obligations. You could make your own choices. So, if you wanted to visit, then I suppose I could live with that….”
“Hey!”
He crinkles his nose.
“Besides, those bookshelves wouldn’t be half as appealing without you pressed against them,” he says, and I scoff. With his hand moving where it is and our bodies pressed together, he’s playing arisky game. We came up here to sleep. Heneedsto sleep. But if he keeps going—
“How about you, Princess?” Will asks. “After.”
“Aside from finally getting a bigger greenhouse? Hmm…This.”
His chuckle is delightful. “Copycat.”
“I’m telling the truth.”
“So was I.”
He returns my stare, and in the silence of the night, without a single sound from the world outside, I know that I’ve abundantly and absolutely fallen for him. There’s no jolt of awareness, no cheer of applause or resounding realization. It’s delicate and effortless, like spending a full day lying in a grassy field, only to fall asleep and wake up hours later, drowsy but changed, a glow on my skin and butterflies in my hair, the smell of daisies in the breeze and no tension, no strain to be found. Falling for Will feels simple. It’s as natural as the sun rising over the citadel walls and glinting off the glass of my greenhouse, as reliable and real as the roses that grow there. Just as I do in the greenhouse, I lose time to him. He eclipses everything. And here, in this space we’ve built—in this trust we’ve created—I’m truly myself, and truly his.
Will’s eyes flutter closed. The hand on my leg stills, resting around the curve of my thigh.
“We should probably sleep,” he says, and there’s a tinge of regret to his words, as if dreams wouldn’t bring him half as much pleasure as this right now.
“Willoh Vane being sensible…” I whisper, and I’d love to finish my sentence with something sarcastic, but he knows what I mean.
He smiles and wiggles around to get comfier.
“Good night, Princess.”
“Night, Will.”
“Thank you for saving me. You really are quite the florist.”
“Anytime. Always.”
“Um…and, Fliss?”
“Mm?”
“I…uh…thank you.”
I drift away in Will’s arms, wrapped in the calmness of his slow breaths and reassuring beating of his chest. I’m one foot into sleep when I promise myself to make his dreams of returning to the Library true. But the future can wait. For now, as the night forges on, I’m sheltered and safe. He’s safe. And we’re together.
Together and alive.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
I wake with the dawn. The sliver of pastel-yellow between my curtains brings the twittering birds to life and reminds me that the outside world—the world outside of Will—exists. And today my best friend will finally have the wedding he’s been working so hard toward. Without me.
Will’s arm is draped over my waist, our legs tangled together, but he’s yet to stir. I carefully rub sleep from my eyes and allow myself a minute or two to soak him in, as he is, asleep and unguarded. I permit myself the sight of his long eyelashes, the messy brown waves on his forehead, a hint of stubble on the edge of his jaw. His soft breaths and slightly open mouth that has turned his lips dry. His completely serene expression, soft and unconcerned with all that awaits us. I’ve woken up tothisand find it more captivating than any flower I’ve come across.
I don’t want to break his peace so I’m meticulous when winding myself out of the bed. I go to my wardrobe and, finally, after days at the cottage, get to wear my own clothes. The maid of honor dress Card designed for me remains in his chambers at the castle, I suppose never to be worn. It’s a drowning sadness to remember how I turnedbefore the grand mirror and swished the long skirt around my ankles, marveling at the periwinkle shimmer. How we chose the lace pattern of the sleeves to match the white myrtle and lily of the valley bouquets I’d decided on for their dedication, prosperity, and unabashed love. How he probably woke up and saw the dress next to his suit and burned with betrayal.
I select a comfortable white blouse, long pink skirt, and front lace rose-blush corset. If Will’s red jacket and pockets are his armor, this can be mine. Letting him snooze, I tiptoe to the bathroom to fix my appearance and assemble my courage. No one is dying today. I’ll see to that.
Down in my shop, I set my mind to a plan. If Bastion won’t listen to us, we need a backup—and although I’m not a fighter or a rebel, I’m a florist, and I know how flowers make people feel. Iknowthey make a difference. And what is a wedding without a bouquet?
I clear the wrapping table and line up a row of empty vases before assessing my choices.
