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You stood atop the balcony, both hands resting along the elegant railing, as you stared after the knights of Caelin. They were riding out on another mission given to them by Hector. It was odd having Ostia manage Caelin, but that was Lady Lyndis' decision after the war. Hector was a good marquess, and he took care of Caelin with the same hand that he used to rule Ostia.
Yes, many things remained the same... in fact, the atmosphere around Caelin was almost entirely the same, only with peace and prosperity. There were no more scrimmages tearing about the land and no more strange men wandering about in the hours of the night. You were still one of the ladies of House Caelin, proud of your heritage and the people who lived here.
Most of all, you were proud of Kent. He was the Knight Commander, the one who bravely led the knights into battle whenever they were called forth. He was an incredibly hard worker, and no one could deny his worth. Kent had served Lady Lyndis, Lord Eliwood and Lord Hector with all of his strength, earning him much honor and prestige.
Bravery and duty were his strong suits. He was loyal to Caelin, steadfast and trustworthy to the people. You felt an overwhelming sense of felicity whenever he courted you, and you were sure that your friends were happy for you, if not a bit jealous. Kent was a wonderful icon in Caelin -- everyone knew his name, and young knights strove to become like him.
You found that you were happiest when you were with him. He was not exactly the romantic type, but he did what he could to bring you bliss. It wasn't uncommon that you would awaken, only to find a bouquet of beautiful flowers in the parlor. The servants would say that they were left by Sir Kent, the valiant knight who had taken a liking toward you.
Your mother and father were ecstatic that you would be courted by such a wonderful man. To be wed to someone like him, they said, would bring the family much wealth and fame. Although they constantly stressed these reasons, they knew that he was also a man of character, a suitable husband who would take care of you.
However, as wonderful as he was, you couldn't help but miss him every time he mounted his grand steed and sped off to lead his men when conflict arose. You couldn't help but worry about him, hoping that his strength would carry him through these ordeals. You couldn't help but wonder where he was and how he was doing on those nights, and you even stared at the stars, knowing that he saw the same sky.
This was one of those nights. Your hands were cold, and the chill of the wind made you shiver, though it was spring. All the same, you stayed, your eyes glued to the red armor that you knew belonged to Kent. He held his head high, yelling a command. His men responded, signaling their horses to canter after their leader. Kent's stallion led them, racing so fast that you could barely see its feet touch the ground. And that was how he disappeared every time.
His departures were always so beautiful, so regal, but that didn't change the fact that he was gone. You would miss him as always, waiting for the day that he would return home in victory.
You sighed, waiting until the last horse was out of sight before turning around and returning to you bedroom.
In the late morning, you awoke to the cheerful chirping of birds. There was emptiness in your heart, even though you knew that Kent would return eventually, safe and sound. You dressed yourself simply, thinking that there was no reason for you to make yourself look pretty now that Kent had left. He wouldn't be back for at least several days.
You combed out your hair while looking in the mirror, though your mind was far from your physical appearance. Once your hair was done the way that you usually kept it, you stood. You smoothed out your dress, ready to join your family for the usual late breakfast. Somehow you had a feeling that it would be a very relaxing day, slow and mundane.
As you descended the spiral staircase, you held your head high as your mother had taught you. She said that it was ladylike and gave you the air of nobility that you had rightfully inherited. You turned the corner, only to see a large basket of fresh flowers garnishing the parlor table.
At first, your mind flashed to Kent, thinking that he had provided these lovely flowers for you, but then you remembered that he was no longer here. You thought about the possibilities -- had his mission been cancelled? Did he return home early? Did your father place these on the table for you?
One of the maids read the contemplative look on your face. She was the one who knew you the best, only several years your elder. Her name was Susie. "Oh, Miss! This is what Sir Vincent left for you. He wanted to see you, but I told him that you were still sleeping."
"Sir Vincent?" You racked your memory for any recollection of this "Sir Vincent," though nothing came to mind.
"You don't know who he is, Miss? He is the son of one of the late marquess' advisor. A handsome one, he is." Susie placed a hand on her hip, shaking her head as though she were insulted on Sir Vincent's behalf.
"Oh, him?" you replied casually with a sheepish laugh. "I simply forgot." In reality, you didn't care. Even though Sir Vincent obviously took a liking to you, you only had eyes for Kent.
But you had to admit -- those flowers were awfully pretty. You knelt down toward the basket of arranged flowers, gently pulling a blossom to your nose and taking a deep breath. These were risson blossoms, flowers that were commonly used as gifts because of their sweet, honey-like scent -- in fact, they were often called "honey blossoms." Immediately, you felt a flood of comfort, filled with memories of Kent and when you had first met...
You were only a young girl, about ten or eleven years of age. Somehow you had found yourself in the royal garden, a place that you went whenever you had free time. Knowing that it was peaceful, fragrant and beautiful made this one of your favorite spots to be; it was your haven.
Although you would never know why a squire such as Kent would wish to venture into such a place, you never did question it. He was a boy, a boy with a rather cute, freckled face and a head of red hair that often swept into his eyes. He sat himself on one of the white benches. In his hands he held a sword that seemed much too large for him, though he carried it well. He was polishing the blade, rubbing a cloth along the smooth metal.
You moved from the side of the garden that you were on, appearing from behind a large risson bush. This one had beautiful, pink blossoms growing alongside the green, thinly wax-coated leaves. The sweet scent of honey nectar reached your nose as you studied Kent curiously. You had never seen him before.
Surprised at the rustling sound that your movement had made, Kent looked upward, stopping what he was doing.
Your eyes found his, locked together for several moments before you broke the gaze. It was strange -- a single look into his eyes told you more about him than any words that you would ever exchange.
Kent took a breath, returning to polish the sword. He continued as though nothing had happened, as though you were never there. The blade's sheen was bright, polished by his careful hand.
Part of you wanted to stay, to see how the squire would react to your presence, but you thought differently. It was getting late, and your mother and father would be worried if you did not return home soon. You daintily picked up the trim of your dress as you scampered off.
Despite how much he didn't understand the situation, Kent could not deny that the honey-scented blossoms smelled especially sweet when you were there.
"Miss?" Susie's voice brought you back. "Miss, you look as though you've got something on your mind."
You shook you head lightly. "Oh, no. It's nothing." You didn't feel the need to share your memories of Kent; it wasn't a secret that you were fond of him, though there might have been doubts now that Sir Vincent had apparently begun to court you as well. How would things turn out?
Breakfast went normally with your family. Your mother asked about the flowers from Sir Vincent, but she neither encouraged, nor discouraged you from seeking him out in order to thank him. Basically, you were on your own.
It wasn't that you didn't appreciate the flowers -- you loved flowers. However, you weren't interested in this Sir Vincent, and you didn't feel the need to give him the impression that you were. You decided that it was perhaps better if you wrote a letter and asked his servant to give it to him.
You scribbled a quick thank you on a sheet of stationary, fixing your hair one more time before leaving the house. It was a little before noon. You figured that it was safe to drop by Sir Vincent's home to deliver your note; you wouldn't even have to speak to him since a household servant would likely open the door.
When you arrived at the mansion after a short walk, you took a breath, noting just how large the house was. It was much larger than your own, and your family was already considered rather wealthy. Castle Caelin was well guarded by a large gate and a series of walls. These walls, however, also encompassed several other buildings alongside the castle, which included those of noblemen, advisors and even your own. Many people lived within the many houses, and you did not know everyone, though most were at least familiar to your eyes.
You tapped lightly at the wooden door, using the knocker -- a beautiful piece made out of fine metal, shaped into a head of a lion with a ring in its mouth.
In just a few moments, you heard someone undoing the lock and opening the door. A man in his late forties appeared, clad in what servants would normally wear. "Yes, Madam? Can I help you?"
"Hello, I am _____, daughter of _____. Would you be so kind to deliver this letter to Sir Vincent?" You reached into the small handbag to remove the note. "I would much rather not be a bother to him--"
"Not a bother at all." From behind the servant, another voice spoke. The owner of the voice indicated for the servant to step aside, instead taking it upon himself to greet you. "My lady! What a pleasant surprise!" When you saw his face, you automatically knew that this was Sir Vincent. You most definitely recognized him as one of the advisors' sons. "Please come in."
You were caught. There was nowhere for you to turn now, and to refuse was to be ungracious. You merely put on a smile as you stepped inside.
Indeed, Sir Vincent was a handsome one, as Susie had said. He was tall, his hair long and dark, though tied back neatly. His skin was pale, though not unhealthily so. In fact, it seemed as if he spent a good deal of his time outside -- you had heard that he was an excellent swordsman. Despite how many of your friends might have fallen for him, you hardly cared.
You were led to the parlor, where several servants came in and left a tray of sweets, a pitcher of lemonade and two glasses on the small table. As you sat down upon one of the chairs, Sir Vincent tried making casual conversation. You replied, just to be polite, though your heart was not in your words.
He sat down across from you in another nearby chair, where he poured glasses of lemonade for you both. He seemed confident, smooth, as though he had expected that you would arrive. "This is yours," he said, handing you a cool glass of lemonade. "It is my mother's recipe, one highly acclaimed by our guests and one of my personal favorites."
Bringing the clear glass to your lips, you tasted the drink, discovering it to be a fine mix of tangy and sweet and refreshing. "This is delicious," you commented. "I have never tasted anything like it."
"My lady, there is nothing else like it. My mother uses only the best lemons from the garden and the sweetest honey from our bees." He smiled, drinking from his own glass. "I think the reason why the honey is so special is because the bees use nectar from our lovely risson garden..."
He continued to talk, but you only focused on the sweet lemonade, letting him say whatever he wished. You would not be so rude to interrupt him -- yet, you had other things on your mind. Even as the delicious liquid rolled over your tongue, you thought back four years ago, when you were about fifteen, to another memory that you had...
It was at a party. You didn't recall whose it was, but you did remember the ball gowns, the beautiful dresses that the many girls wore. The boys were clad handsomely in clean suits, many of them feeling quite awkward since they did not usually dress in such a manner.
You specifically remembered receiving a gift from you mother -- a gorgeous yellow dress that felt as light as a feather on you, as though you were meant to wear it. Your hair was done beautifully, secured with jewel-studded hair clips. You felt somewhat chilly from the winter air, though your heart was warmed immediately when you stepped into the ballroom.
"..." You couldn't even speak. Words could not describe how lovely the place was, decorated just for you and others near your age. Drapes of cloth were hung on the walls, adding rich mixtures of creams and reds in the setting, while the tables were stacked high with elegant foods of all sorts!
You weren't even sure what to sample first. The truffles were made to perfection, the chocolate crisp on the outside, while the inner cream melted in your mouth. The creampuffs were savory, each bite reminding you of the winter holidays when your grandparents brought you edible gifts. And the maple spice cakes? Oh, the scent reached your nose, each piece containing a thorough mixture of cinnamon and nutmeg, drizzled with cream and honey.
As you reached for the final slice, your hand met someone else's. "Oh?" You elevated your eyes, and you saw a face that looked oddly familiar to you. He was cute with deep, brown eyes and orange hair that grew thickly from his head, but he no longer had freckles. In the brief amount of time that you had, you recognized the boy -- he was the one from the garden!
He blushed, a pink tinge meeting his cheeks. "Go ahead," he said. "You can have it."
You shook your head, finding it difficult to accept. "No, you reached for it first. It's yours."
"I insist." Kent was being awfully stubborn.
"Why don't we split it?" You reached for another glass plate at the end of the table, taking a fork and cutting the maple spice cake in half. It wasn't nearly as pretty now, but you were sure that looks had nothing to do with the flavor. You then scooped the half of the slice onto the new plate, handing it to Kent. "Here you go."
He took the offered cake slowly, a small smile on his face. "Thank you." As though he were afraid of the silence that might engulf the both of you, he added, "My name is Kent. May I ask for yours?"
"_____." You didn't feel the need to mention that day in the garden years ago. This was a fresh, new start. "This is quite some party, hm?"
"Yes," Kent replied, seemingly enjoying his cake. "I'm impressed."
You cut a piece of the cake with the edge of your fork, slipping it into your mouth. Immediately, you knew that you had never tasted anything so delectable in your life. The spices accommodated each other well, and the cream on top added just the right amount of sweetness. What made the maple spice cake especially savory was the light drizzle of honey. "My goodness," you said. "This is delicious." When you finished with the cake, you scraped up the last drops of honey on your fork. It was from honey blossoms, you noticed, letting the sweet nectar linger on your tongue.
The boy set his plate and fork down, extending a shy hand toward you. "W-would you l-like to dance?" he asked. Although he seemed confident enough, you knew that he was nervous.
You smiled at him, taking his hand. "I would love to."
The memory ended, and you returned to Sir Vincent's parlor, where you realized that the topic of his mother's lemonade had evolved into conversation about the hedges in front of the mansion. You looked at your glass, realizing that there were only ice cubes left.
It had been several days since you escaped Sir Vincent. He was a nice fellow, you determined, though you had no interest in his rambling, or his advances for that matter. Every morning, you awoke with a new basket of flowers on the parlor table. The arrangements were more grand than the simple bouquets that you received from Kent every once in a while. For some reason, however, Kent's flowers meant so much more.
Days turned into weeks. And weeks turned into months.
Two months. That was how long Kent had been gone. You missed him dearly, and, unfortunately, there was no news of him or his men. You were very worried, fearing that he had not survived the mission.
Sir Vincent now took the liberty to personally deliver the flowers later in the day, when he was sure that you were awake. He was charming in his own right, but he did not appeal to you as a suitor, even if he spent much of his time courting you. In fact, he had more time to spare than a busy knight; even when Kent was in Caelin, he was always off training, tending to his horse or otherwise fulfilling orders. He would never have time for you, not like Sir Vincent did.
He often came to your home, and you were forced to entertain him, much to your disappointment. Of course, you never let this show on your face because that would be rude. You merely accepted Sir Vincent, being the gracious host that you were taught to be.
Your parents had accepted the fact that Kent was likely dead, and they encouraged you to take a liking to this new suitor, who was handsome, rich and influential. Sir Vincent had a lot to offer, they said. He could make you a very happy woman.
But you would have none of that. Kent was the only one in your heart.
You sighed as you stood on your balcony that night, gazing at the stars and moon. "Please," you whispered, as though you were making a wish upon the night sky. "Please tell Kent to come home soon." Somehow, you knew that it was futile, childish even, but you couldn't help trying.
Your days were numbered... your parents wanted you to marry, to settle down with your own family. They would never force you to do anything, you were sure. All the same, the pressure was unrelenting, and you did miss Kent... you missed him more than anything.
For the first time, you thought about every possibility. What if he did die..? He would never return; you would never know exactly what happened. You would have to live life either with someone else or alone. ...somehow you knew that you would be alone. You could never find someone like Kent. Never.
With that one word reverberating through your head, you could no longer hold back the tears, which you had been bravely doing for the past two months. You closed your eyes, tears slipping down your cheeks. This time, you didn't even try to stop them. You let them come.
It was as though the stars heard your crying. In the dimly lit night, through your tear-stained eyes, you saw a figure appear on the horizon, moving toward the castle. Several figures followed afterward, and by their speed, you knew that they could only be on horseback. You sniffed, wiping your eyes clear with the back of your arm.
Could it be? you thought silently. It was too dark for you to see clearly so you turned, racing down the stairs. You didn't say anything to your puzzled family as you unlocked the door and dashed outside. If these figures were Kent and his men, they would arrive at the back of the castle, where they would take care of their horses.
You arrived breathless and nervous, ready to search for Kent if he had returned home. The place was busy, many men running back and forth, probably eager to return home after caring for their horses. You looked this way and that, but you saw no flash of orange hair, Kent's most distinct feature. Did he not make it..?
You didn't give up just yet, checking the stable itself for any sign of Kent. There were horses and other knights, but you did not see him. Your heart began to race, now anxious to know. Even if he was no longer alive, you needed to know what happened to him.
Turning around, you saw another knight who, despite being exhausted, made sure that his horse was comfortable first. He removed the mare's bridle, giving it a brief pat on the nose before moving to unstrap its saddle. You stepped toward him, clearing your throat. He glanced at you with kind eyes, his face indicating that he was older than most other knights. "Yes? What can I do for you, my lady?"
"Is Kent with you? I'm looking for him."
The knight heaved the horse's saddle from its back, setting it on the stall's low wall. "You must be that damsel he talks about."
Surprised, you didn't know what to say.
He laughed, grabbing a brush from a bucket of grooming tools. "Oh yes, he talks about you, talks about how pretty you are and how he wants to come home for you." As he ran the brush through the horse's coat, he added, "I can see why."
You were flattered, ecstatic that Kent would speak so fondly of you. However, your questions had yet to be answered. "But where is he?"
The knight patted his horse's neck. "Right behind you."
Your heart pounded in your chest. For a moment, you wondered if he was joking with you, playing with your already stirred emotions. You held your breath, taking the chance to turn around...
Kent stood there with a small grin on his face, a bouquet of flowers in his hand. He was not as presentable as he usually was, dirt streaked across his face and his hair tousled here and there, but he was back. He was physically back again, with you. "_____..." he began.
Perhaps he wanted to say more, though you didn't have him the opportunity. You raced toward him, throwing your arms around his neck. There were no words that could describe how you were feeling, and even though Kent was still wearing his armor, he returned the embrace. Eventually, he took your hand, leading you out and away from the stables.
"Kent, what happened?" you asked once the two of you were alone. "Why didn't you come home sooner?" You were now in your favorite place -- the garden.
"We were assigned to defeat a group of brigands who were terrorizing a village. Unfortunately, the brigands escaped after we intervened, and we spent the rest of the time tracking them down. By the time we found them, they had regrouped with other brigands, and their group was much larger than our own. We had to gather reinforcements, mercenaries from other nearby towns before battle. In the end, we succeeded, but the entire process was a long one."
You nodded. "I can see that." Regardless of what happened, you were glad that he was safe. As a knight, his life was threatened every day. Thankfully, his skill kept him from harm.
Here, he decided that a change of subject was in order. Kent presented you with the bouquet of flowers. "I found these wildflowers not far from the castle... I thought that you might enjoy them."
Naturally, you accepted the bouquet, noticing that the flowers were honey blossoms. "Why these flowers?"
"Well," he began, seeming surprised that you asked. "They're honey blossoms... I... well, I thought that since we first met here, when the honey blossoms were in bloom, that... don't you remember?"
You had not expected that from Kent. All these years, you thought that he did not recall your meeting in the garden, but apparently you were wrong. Instead, you squeezed his hand, telling him that everything was all right. "I remember," you assured. "And it means a lot to me..." You brought the blossoms to your nose, taking a deep breath.
The memories flooded back from your first meeting in the garden, from dancing over the maple spice cake and from the many times Kent had brought you flowers...
"You're serious?" Kent pressed, moving in your path so that he was now in front of you. He had both of his hands around your free one. "You mean it?"
"Of course," you replied, letting the bouquet drop to the ground as you let your hand rest upon his. You were now far enough in the garden to smell the risson blossoms -- they were in full bloom. Your eyes found his. "Promise you'll never leave me for so long again?"
"Never," he replied. "Never again." He leaned forward, kissing you lovingly. As he broke away, he kissed your forehead. "Marry me?"
And amidst the fragrant honey blossoms, you said yes.