Chapter Fourteen: Where Roots First Took Hold
Cal tucked himself into the corner of the library he liked best, the one most students never noticed. The stacks rose high and close around it, their shadows folding inward, creating a pocket of quiet that felt deliberately hidden from the rest of the world. It was the kind of place where time softened, where hours could pass unnoticed.
The Chronicles of the Twin Rose lay open before him.
The leather binding was worn smooth, the spine cracked in places from age and repeated handling.
It felt warm beneath his fingers, almost alive, as though it recognized him. Every time he opened it, Cal had the unsettling sense that the book wasn't simply being read, it was waiting.
Waiting for him to understand something he didn't yet have the language for.
He leaned forward, elbows resting on the desk, eyes tracing the inked lines. Tonight, he had promised himself, he would not stop. Not until he found a thread, a reason... anything that could explain the strange alignment between Aurelia's dreams and the fragments of history that refused to stay buried.
The coincidences were no longer coincidences.
It began on a quieter place tucked away from courtly eyes. Medicinal herbs grew thick and wild there, their scents overlapping, sharp, earthy, bitter, soothing. Sunlight spilled through trellises heavy with vines, casting shifting patterns across pale stone paths worn smooth by years of careful footsteps.
A boy knelt among the plants.
He was twelve years old, small for his age, with brown curls that refused to stay tamed and round glasses that slid down his nose whenever he bent too close to his work. Freckles dusted his tanned cheeks, and his hazel eyes moved with practiced focus, following the subtle rhythms of the garden. He plucked leaves carefully, rolling them between his fingers, studying texture and scent before setting them aside.
There was a quiet reverence in the way he worked, as if the plants were teachers rather than tools.
This garden was his refuge.
And then she came.
She entered the space with a blur of laughter and energy weaving through the greenery. Golden-hazel eyes flashed beneath dark lashes, bright with excitement. Her porcelain skin glowed warmly beneath the sun, cheeks flushed pink from the chase as she darted after a small white bunny that hopped gleefully ahead of her.
Her dark hair fell loose down her back, moving like a living shadow as she ran.
The boy froze.
Royalty was not meant to wander here. He straightened instinctively, bracing himself for reprimand, for the sharp edge of authority or the weight of consequence. But she barely noticed him at first, her attention wholly claimed by the creature she pursued.
The bunny leapt suddenly.
She stumbled.
They collided ... gently, awkwardly, and the boy caught his breath.
He expected indignation. Expected sharp words, or at least the careful distance that titles demanded.
Instead, she blinked at him, surprised, then laughed, soft and unguarded. She crouched down almost immediately, attention drawn to the crushed herbs beneath their feet, fingers brushing leaves with curious care, as though she had discovered something fascinating rather than inconvenient.
The boy stared.
He recognized her.
She was the princess they whispered about. The isolated one. The one spoken of in half-sentences and lowered voices. The girl rumored to be illegitimate, a royal presence tolerated but never fully embraced. A name associated more with silence than splendor.
But the truth of her, right there in that garden, unraveled every rumor he had ever heard.
She was bright. Observant. Quick-minded.
Her gaze lingered on the plants with genuine interest, eyes narrowing slightly as she noted details, the curve of a stem, the way one leaf caught more sun than another. She asked questions without hesitation, curiosity sparking faster than caution.
The boy hesitated only a moment before answering.
He spoke quietly at first, the name of a leaf, the use of a root, the way certain flowers could soothe fevers or calm restless sleep. His voice gained confidence as she listened, truly listened, nodding along and offering her own observations in return.
She spoke quickly, but thoughtfully, words tumbling out in a rhythm that matched her energy. She knew things... more than he expected and what she didn't know, she absorbed eagerly.
Something in him loosened.
He smiled.
It was easy.
So easy it startled him.
Days passed.
Their meetings became unspoken traditions, woven seamlessly into the rhythm of the garden. They traded pressed leaves and scribbled sketches of plants. They whispered over discoveries, mapped secret paths where the sunlight fell just right. One morning, she arrived wearing slacks instead of a dress, sleeves rolled, hair pulled back with careless confidence.
He noticed. Said nothing.
Freedom suited her.
Sometimes they chased the bunny again, laughing breathlessly until their sides hurt. Other days they simply sat against the stone walls, shoulder to shoulder, letting the hum of the garden fill the space between them.
There were no titles there.
No gossip.
No expectations.
Just curiosity. Comfort.
The quiet thrill of being understood.
For the boy with hazel eyes and freckles, and the princess with flushed cheeks and a laugh too bright for the shadows that followed her, that first meeting was perfect in its simplicity.
No one else mattered there.
Cal leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly.
The words lingered around him like the scent of crushed leaves. He could almost hear the rustle of vines, almost feel the warmth of sunlight on his skin. His chest felt tight in a way he didn't understand... a pull that had nothing to do with logic.
He turned the page.
Whatever he was looking for, it was here.
The next day...
They hadn't planned anything beyond "let's get off campus before we lose our minds."
That was how Aurelia found herself squeezed beside Amara on a crowded bus, her bag clutched to her chest, knees pressed together as the vehicle lurched forward. Amara sat beside her with reckless ease, scrolling through her phone like someone who had escaped responsibility for the afternoon.
"I swear," Amara said, locking her screen, "if I stayed in that dorm one more minute, I was going to start talking to my wall."
Aurelia smiled faintly. "You already do that."
"That's different," Amara said solemnly.
They laughed, the kind of laughter that came without effort, without explanation. Like muscle memory.
The town greeted them with noise and color. Music spilled from open shop doors, vendors called out their deals, and the air was thick with perfume samples and fried food. They drifted from store to store with no real goal, stopping when something caught their eye, moving on when it didn't.
Aurelia paused at nearly every window.
She touched fabrics, lifted hangers, held dresses up against herself in mirrors before immediately shaking her head.
"No," she muttered. Again.
Amara tilted her head. "Why not?"
"It's too… loud."
"You're allowed to be loud," Amara said, nudging her toward the mirror. "You just choose not to be."
Aurelia rolled her eyes but tried it on anyway.
When she stepped out, Amara's eyebrows rose slowly.
"Oh."
"What?" Aurelia asked warily.
"Oh," Amara repeated.
"So that's what we're doing now. Pretending you don't look good."
Heat crept into Aurelia's cheeks. "Stop."
"I refuse," Amara said cheerfully. "You look good. Annoyingly so."
They didn't buy the dress.
They never did.
Outside, they shared fries from a paper cone, sitting on a low wall near the street. Aurelia ate slowly, watching people pass, while Amara talked, about classmates, about a lecturer who took himself too seriously, about nothing important at all.
At some point, Amara nudged her shoulder. "You've been quiet."
"Just thinking," Aurelia replied.
"About who," Amara corrected lightly.
Aurelia scoffed. "Don't start."
Amara smiled. "I didn't say a name."
The silence that followed wasn't awkward. It settled gently between them, familiar and safe. The kind that only existed when trust filled the gaps words didn't need to.
They moved on to milkshakes. Then a bookstore.
Aurelia lingered in the fantasy aisle, fingers tracing spines, she was searching for something she could read on her free time.
When the sun dipped lower and their feet began to ache, they headed back, arms linked, bags swinging, tired but lighter.
Whatever questions waited for Aurelia…
This day reminded her she didn't have to face them alone.