Chapter 25 A Garden of Blue Roses
A GARDEN OF BLUE ROSES
“When the air stills, and white weeps upon the wind—not snow, not ash, but something softer still—you will know. The earth will hush, the stream will silence its song, and she will walk where balance once broke. You will not chase her. You will wait. And when the braid is whole, you will kneel, not only in body but in soul.”
—Elder A?na, to Theron
Noel
Itry to focus on the preparations for the welcome ceremony. Mina has been by my side all morning, guiding me through each step.
“We want to honor your customs as well,” she says, presenting me with a gown unlike anything I’ve ever seen. “Elder A?na made this for you herself.”
Elder A?na. She had lived for thousands of years, though she’d long since stopped keeping count. I’m still struggling to wrap my mind around it. How does someone even live that long?
“We know humans prefer to be covered,” Mina adds, her tone kind. As though she hadn’t bathed me with at least two dozen nymphí running around mere hours ago.
The gown is stunning. The fabric is airy and light, a pristine white that feels ceremonial. Mina explains that white symbolizes new beginnings for the vólkins, which feels oddly familiar. It does in Tárnov too.
Blue patterns are embroidered along the edges and seams. They depict the flora of ávera—vines, flowers, and leaves—all woven together like a story. The threads shimmer when the light catches them, giving the gown an ethereal look, as though it belongs to this land more than I do.
The fitting takes place in a spacious room within one of the ancient trees. I finally walked along one of the branch bridges that connect the trees.
The walls are made of intertwined branches and leaves, allowing the sun to gleam through and create patterns on the wooden floor.
The air is filled with the rich scent of fresh flowers and pine.
In the center of the room, a large, shallow basin filled with clear water acts as a mirror, making the room look even more spacious.
Mina and two vólkin females with the same soft gray fur as her, Na?a and Essin, circle me. I stand in the center, unsure whether to be grateful or embarrassed.
“Raise your arms, Your Majesty,” Mina says, her voice soft but firm, leaving no room for debate.
The last time someone dressed me was my mother. The last time anyone bathed me, brushed my hair, or did anything this intimate . . . it was her. It makes my chest tighten.
I hesitate, but Mina clicks her tongue and shakes her head at my resistance. “It’s our honor to assist you,” she says, holding the gown out of my reach. “Please, trust us.”
Reluctantly, I lift my arms to let Mina slide the gown over my head.
The fabric feels cool against my skin as it falls into place.
The bodice is fitted but not restrictive, hugging my figure enough to feel secure while also not limiting my movement.
Small silk blue roses are sewn into the fabric, their vibrant color standing out against the white.
The neckline is modest, dipping just enough to be flattering without making me self-conscious, with a button to secure the cleavage.
The sleeves are wide and bell shaped, flowing past my hands with beautiful embroidery along the cuffs, and the skirt flares out from the waist to fall to just above my ankles. As I move, the fabric sways, making me want to run around with bare feet and watch the gown flow behind me.
Mina adds a final touch, a sash of deep green, made to resemble a leafy vine. She wraps it around my waist, tying it in a loose bow at the back. The ends drape over the skirt, mingling with the blue embroidery.
Running my fingers over the patterns, I trace the shapes of leaves and flowers. It’s beautiful. Here it is, waiting for me to step into a role I still don’t understand.
Na?a steps in without a word. Her paws smooth the material down over my shoulders and back with a touch so light, it’s as though she’s afraid I might shatter.
Essin crouches to adjust the hem. “Hold still,” she says with a smile. Her tone is playful, almost teasing, and it helps ease some of the tension knotting my stomach.
Mina fusses over the neckline, tilting her head to examine every detail. Her paws move quickly as she makes tiny adjustments I can’t even see. “Perfect,” she declares at last before stepping back with a satisfied smile.
Na?a and Essin follow her lead and stand back to admire their work. “You look beautiful,” Na?a says.
Essin’s smile widens. “Better than we imagined.”
Na?a stands calm, composed, her posture steady and confident.
I’ve noticed she doesn’t say much, preferring to observe.
Her green eyes are as beautiful as nature, like Mina’s.
Around her wrist is a band with small, bright green crystals that match her eyes.
Essin, on the other hand, is her opposite—lively and full of energy—with eyes like amber, even leaning toward yellow.
She’s about the same height as Mina, her mane woven with dark purple flowers.
Her laugh is light and bright, and it fills the room like a spark of life wherever she goes.
They’re both so sweet to me.
“This fabric is so smooth.” I run my fingers over the delicate material. It’s lighter than anything I’ve ever worn, softer than even the silks the nobles in Tárnov used to boast about.
“It’s made from the finest silks we could find,” Na?a explains. “We wanted you to feel comfortable. And beautiful.”
Before I can respond, Mina steps behind me and begins combing through my hair, her claws working carefully to untangle the strands. “You have such lovely hair, Your Majesty,” she says. “It’s like the deepest pines after rain.”
I don’t know what to say to that. “Thank you,” I manage, feeling a blush rise to my cheeks. “You’re all so . . . kind.”
Essin smiles as she weaves small flowers into my hair. “We’re just excited to have you here. You’re already fitting in so well.”
I glance at her reflection in the water mirror, raising an eyebrow. “Why do you say that?” I ask, curious but unsure how to take the compliment.
“Because,” Mina says as she meets my gaze in the reflection, “you broke the barrier.”
“Not to mention,” Essin adds, holding my hand as she works, “you’re not screaming, fighting us, or even complaining about life here.”
I blink, taken aback at her honesty.
Na?a steps closer, her voice calm as she adds, “Elder A?na told us humans might react that way—afraid or overwhelmed—since everything here is so different from what you’re used to.”
I hadn’t considered how they might have expected me to behave.
How have I behaved so far? Confused, yes.
Scared, definitely. And overwhelmed by these strange connections I can’t seem to shake.
But I haven’t complained, at least not out loud.
Not about the ridiculous distances I’ve had to walk from one tree to the next, to each building seemingly grown straight out of the forest itself.
And those trees? They’re colossal, far beyond anything I ever saw from within Tárnov’s walls.
I didn’t say a word about it, though. Probably because I can handle it.
I’m fit, always have been. Years of training have made sure of that.
I remember back in the barracks, when the soldiers would compare their six-packs, joking and flexing like fools.
I wanted so badly to join in, to roll up my tunic and show them what real definition looked like.
But I didn’t. Authority and all. A grin tugs at the corner of my mouth at the memory.
“Is that smile because you’re thinking of Theron?” Essin teases, her paws planted on her hips.
Oh goddesses, no!
Heat rushes to my cheeks, my face betraying me in the worst possible way.
With a sharp breath, I try to look anywhere but at them, eventually landing on the entrance like it might offer some escape.
A white dove is sitting on the windowsill looking at me, and then it cocks its head to the side.
This bird is really staring. How strange.
“Essin! Would you stop that!” Mina scolds as she rushes to my side. I turn toward her, absolutely lost for words, feeling more cornered than ever. Na?a, however, takes matters into her own hands . . . paws by pinching Essin’s snout with an exaggerated huff of disapproval.
“Um,” I blurt out, entirely by accident. Of course, that draws all their attention. Their gazes lock onto me, and I freeze, blinking like an absolute fool.
Then, without warning, the tension snaps. One moment of silence turns into a burst of laughter.
The air is warm and sweet, wrapping around me like a gentle embrace.
These girls have been nothing but kind to me, their lighthearted teasing and careful paws a balm I didn’t know I needed.
I’m deeply grateful for them. It’s been so long since I’ve had this sort of peaceful, tender moment.
Just giggling, sharing stories, doing something simple and nice.
My mother would’ve loved this.
She always adored seeing girls happy. During the harvest season, the young girls of Tárnov danced around the village square, scattering petals given to them by the farmers who brought the annual bounty.
Flowers were so rare in Tárnov, their arrival felt like a celebration of life itself.
My mother would buy the most colorful flowers at the market.
She’d hand them out to girls and grandmothers alike, always with a kind smile and a quiet wish for their day to be brighter.
The memory brings a lump to my throat. I can almost hear her voice, see the warmth in her eyes. These moments, so vivid and yet so far away, make me ache for her all over again.
I wish I could bring her back. Show her all the flowers in ávera—so many of them, more than we ever dreamed of in Tárnov. She’d love it here. She’d love them.
After the fitting, Mina leads me to a clearing surrounded by towering trees. I take a deep breath and let the scent of nature fill my lungs. Here it is. The sacred glade.