I sank into the chair in Meredia's garden which was wobbling a little. it wasn't exactly made for someone who had just woken from a month-long comabut I couldn't care. The place buzzed with life, and it was obvious Meredia had poured her heart into it, with maybe a touch of magic lending a hand.
The flowers weren't just flowers. Some curled their corkscrew petals like little dancers spinning mid-leap, shifting from violet to turquoise as if deciding which color suited them best that moment. Others shot out spiky fireworks of petals, tiny explosions frozen in time, each with a mind of its own, twitching slightly as if reacting to me staring. Hanging lantern-bells swayed and whispered to one another in the wind, tiny blooms leaning conspiratorially toward each other.
The creatures were even more bizarre. One plump, humped bunny gave me a suspicious glare as it waddled past, its tiny tail twitching like a metronome. A kangaroo-legged critter bounced on impossibly long legs, pausing mid-hop to inspect me with keen, twitching whiskers, like it had been expecting trouble. Tiny flying-squirrel rats flitted above, wings flapping awkwardly as their ears twitched and they chattered in squeaky bursts like gossiping neighbors.
One particularly audacious flower...a glowing violet thing with spindly, flame-like petals leaned close, nudging a feathered bunny hybrid that looked half-rabbit, half-peacock. The creature puffed up indignantly, tail feathers fanning out, glaring at the flower like it had just said something rude.
I couldn't stop staring. Every plant and animal had personality, quirks, even attitude. The garden felt like it was alive. And I kind of loved it.
From the corner of my eye, I caught Duchess approaching. I turned my head, forcing a smile. "Mother, you're here."
She nodded gently and sat across from me, her gaze sweeping the garden. "Oh… you haven't tended to your garden yet?"
"Uh… wh—why?" I blinked at her. "What tending does it need? It looks… perfect."
Her eyes shifted to me, and for a moment it felt like she was peering right through my skull. "Eri, you haven't noticed? The flowers at the back have grown wild."
"Oh…" I let out a small nervous chuckle. "I'll take care of them, Mother."
I laughed again, awkwardly. "Haha. I was just so excited to see you that I forgot all about the garden."
But she didn't stop staring. Her golden eyes had that heavy look, like she was trying to read me. Finally she dropped her gaze to her lap. "You seem to have lost interest in your old hobbies…"
I shook my head quickly, my stomach flipping. "No, Mother, I—"
"It's all our fault, isn't it?" she interrupted softly. "We pressed so many duties onto you that now you don't feel joy for them anymore."
My throat tightened. Crap crap crap… she thinks I'm broken because of them, not because I literally don't know what the heck this "wild flower crisis" even means.
I forced a smile. "Mother, that's not true. I still love… uh… gardening." The words came out like a student giving an oral exam on a subject they didn't study.
Her golden eyes flicked up again, sharp.
I added quickly, "I mean...look at those corkscrew flowers. So… twisty. Just like I always liked them, right?"
Duchess tilted her head, her expression stayed unreadable.
Okay, wow, smooth.
I tried again, leaning forward a little. "And the bell-shaped ones too. I—I always thought they looked like tiny lanterns guiding me home."
What the hell, brain, when did I become a poet?
For a heartbeat, she just studied me, and I swore my soul was melting under that stare. Then....thank god, her eyes softened.
"Then perhaps," she said, her voice gentler, "you should spend time in the garden again. It always brought you peace before."
I nodded so fast my neck almost snapped. "Yes. Absolutely. Gardening. My favorite. Totally can't wait to… tame those wild flowers."
God help me if she asks me how to actually do that. What am I supposed to do?Yell at them until they behave?
Before I could sweat my way through another round of "name that flower," Duchess let out a soft sigh. Her fingers brushed over the armrest of her chair, almost like she was smoothing out invisible wrinkles.
"You know," she said, her tone quieter now, "perhaps it is our fault. We never gave ourselves enough time together. Tea times, afternoons like this… they were so rare. Maybe that is why I sometimes feel I cannot understand you fully, Eri."
My chest tightened. Not because I had an answer, but because....ouch. Lady, you're stabbing me with mom guilt that doesn't even belong to me.
She reached across the table, taking my hand gently. "But from now on, I will not make that mistake again. If you wish it, I shall spend as much time with you as you allow me."
I forced a smile, nodding. "Yes, mother… I would like that."
Would I? I mean, she's sweet but if she hovers over me every day, I'm doomed. One wrong slip and I'm outed as an imposter. Me caught red-handed by tea and scones.
Her smile grew brighter. "Good. Then it is settled."
But before I could exhale in relief, she added, "Besides, your eighteenth birthday is approaching. Your debutante shall be held as well. You must be ready."
I froze. My jaw probably dropped an inch.
Debutante? As in… fancy ball with dresses, nobles, and people judging me with their peacock feathers of doom?
I managed a weak laugh. "Ah… right. That."
Her eyes lit up, almost sparkling, and she leaned in as though sharing some delicious secret. "Preparations began six months ago. The halls are already being polished, the tailors are working on your gowns, and the guest list…" she paused, eyes glinting, "oh, half the kingdom is eager to see you. Nobles, lords, ladies… even envoys from other duchies."
Half the kingdom? My jaw fell six-feet deep under earth inside my thought.
But then, something tugged at me. A strange, unexpected flutter in my chest. I… hadn't gotten to turn eighteen. Not in my world. Lupus had beaten me to it, snuffing out that tiny little milestone before I could even reach it.
And here was this woman...this mother, not mine, but still mine, beaming like the sun itself at the thought of celebrating me.
I caught myself smiling, and for once it wasn't forced. "That… actually sounds exciting."
Her hand tightened over mine, warm and trembling. "You deserve a day of joy, Eri. A day to be cherished."
My throat prickled, and I bit down hard on the lump forming there. Why are you crying, idiot? She's talking about fancy gowns and nobles, not your sad little life in a shoebox apartment.
But I couldn't help it. Her excitement, her eagerness spilled over me, wrapped me up like a blanket.
We ended up spending the whole noon talking about the debutante, and shocker was that I wasn't bored even once.
Turns out planning a royal-level birthday-slash-introduction-to-society thing was like running an entire circus, and guess who was the main act? Yeah. Me.
There was so much to do in the coming three months. The first month would basically vanish into arranging stuff, decorations, halls, menus, sending invites to what felt like the entire kingdom. The second month? All about me. Dresses, jewels, hair, more dresses, more hair. And in between all that, I was supposed to take lessons. "How to stand, how to smile, how to not sound like a total buffoon in front of nobles."
Apparently, my schedule was packed tighter than my corset.
Oh, and fun fact: time in this world wasn't just hours and minutes like mine. They had lunar hours and solar hours. Lunar was the stretch from sunset, through the night, until sunrise. Solar was sunrise to sunset. Simple, but also very… medieval fantasy vibes.
Meredia, aka me now, was born in the 7th month, at the 7th solar hour. Pretty specific. And after her birthday, summer officially started in Valkathra.
Not that her birthday has anything to do with summer, but hey, trivia's trivia.
Duchess practically glowed as she flipped through the plans, her hands tracing invisible checklists in the air. One second she was smiling like a teenager gossiping with her best friend, the next she was biting her lip, muttering under her breath.
"They never attend… but he is Kirill's companion too. If the Crown Prince does not come, it would be such an insult to our house."
Oh great, no pressure at all.
She sighed, fingers tightening around her teacup. "But if he does come, how will we serve them properly? What if we miss a single thing and he takes offense? What if he finds the food not to his liking? What if—"
Her voice dropped as if the walls had ears, "What if the royal family thinks us incapable?"
I blinked at her, halfway between patting her hand and running for the hills. She was Duchess Elowen, literal queen of composure but just saying the words "Crown Prince" had her spiraling like me during my math exams back in high school.
"Mother," I managed with a small laugh, "I'm sure nobody's going to judge us by… I don't know, soup bowls or whatever."
She didn't even look at me. Still muttering and worrying lost in her noble world of what-ifs.
Meanwhile, I just sipped my tea, eyes glazing toward the garden like, yeah, I'm totally prepared to meet the literal prince of this world. No problem.