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“What’s this?”
“What’s it look like?” Floyd bent down a little and poked Riddle in the middle of his forehead. “Thought you were smart.”
Riddle took a step back, carefully cradling the bouquet of mixed blooms. “Obviously, they’re flowers! I just want to know why you walked up to me and thrust them into my arms!”
Floyd straightened and folded his arms over his chest. “Like I said. Thought you were smart.”
“I don’t see what intelligence has to do with this…this…”
“Gift. It’s a gift. And you didn’t even say thank you. You’d think the Queen of Hearts would have something about that in with all those other crazy rules of hers.”
“And I’m sure you’ve presented me with this gift in the spirit of the Sea Witch’s benevolence,” Riddle replied drily.
Floyd frowned. “I gave them to you because I wanted to. Had nothing to do with the Sea Witch.”
Riddle was getting nowhere at this rate.
“What’s the catch, Floyd? Surely, you don’t expect me to believe a gift from Octavinelle comes without strings.”
Floyd’s eyes narrowed, for just a second. Or perhaps it was just Riddle’s imagination, because Floyd was already shoving his hands in his pockets, his posture slouched and unconcerned.
“This is boring,” he said. “Keep ‘em, give ‘em away, or toss ‘em. Don’t really care.”
Before Riddle could argue that he didn’t believe that, Floyd strode away, his long legs eating up the distance. Even without running, it seemed as though he couldn’t get away from Riddle fast enough. Although Riddle was glad to be rid of him, it still stung a little.
He traced his fingers over the petals of the rose in his bouquet. They were freshly cut, and today was Friday, so it was clear that Floyd had obtained them within the past twenty-four hours. That meant that he hadn’t violated Rule 228 by picking flowers from the garden on a Wednesday.
Had Floyd known that? And had he personally picked the flowers himself (Jade was known to be a bit of a horticulturist), or had he purchased them from the school store? The tissue had obviously come from somewhere.
Riddle lifted the bouquet and inhaled through his nose, capturing the mix of floral scents.
And what had Floyd meant by his backhanded compliment regarding Riddle’s intelligence? Riddle was smart, but he was at a complete and total loss why Floyd had given him flowers. Certainly there was nothing romantic in the way Floyd had presented them, shoving them at Riddle like he was trying to get rid of something unwanted.
Aaargh, that man was so aggressively irritating!
Still, the flowers had done nothing to deserve Riddle’s ire, and the arrangement was aesthetically pleasing, so Riddle wasn’t about to discard them. Besides, some of the flowers were toxic to animals, and he didn’t want to risk any of the squirrels that were common on campus rummaging through the garbage looking for a snack. Or one of the hedgehogs, should one ever get loose again!
(It would be off with someone’s head if that should come to pass. Riddle had given the entire dorm a very stern lecture the last time that had happened, and he expected everyone to be more diligent when it came to hedgehog tending.
This wasn’t why Riddle frequently visited their pen, but it was reassuring to see all of them accounted for when he had time to tend to them himself.)
When he heard the knock at his door, Riddle didn’t bother looking up from the book in front of him.
“Enter,” he said, moving his finger over the text as he read.
“Hey, Riddle,” Cater said, poking his head in. “Am I interrupting anything?”
It was a silly question, since Riddle wouldn’t have invited him in, had it been a bad time for visitors. Instead, he said, “it is my responsibility as housewarden to be available for the students of Heartslabyul.”
“I know, but—whoa!” Cater said, his eyes wide. “Talk about cammable. And a day early! Do you mind?” he asked, already snapping photos of the vase on Riddle’s desk.
He really should remind Cater that it was polite to wait for a response before photographing someone’s personal belongings, but he was still engrossed in deciphering the words on the page.
“Riddle?” Cater asked, lowering his phone. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Riddle said. He flipped to the index at the back of the book to find the entry he was looking for. “What did you need?”
“Nothing that can’t wait,” Cater said. He reached out to touch the petals of one of the roses, the central point of the entire bouquet. “Secret admirer?”
“Not a secret,” Riddle replied. “And not an admirer.”
“Are you sure?” Cater asked. “I mean. This bouquet is the sort of thing you’d see in a magazine like Florist Weekly. Someone went to a lot of work to put this together.”
Riddle’s botanical knowledge began and ended with those used in alchemy class, and the roses in the Heartslabyul gardens. Against his better judgement, Riddle pushed his chair back from his desk and turned to face Cater.
“What do you know about flower arrangements?”
“Me?” Cater asked, his voice almost a squeak. “I mean. I know what looks good on camera. But even without knowing all the meanings of flowers, all this red is clearly a message.”
There were some darker pinks mixed in the bouquet, but Riddle didn’t bother correcting Cater. Based on Cater’s reaction, along with the little bit he’d gleaned from this textbook, the arrangement of flowers was no accident.
Was that why Floyd had left in a snit?
“You are radiant,” Cater read from the notes Riddle had taken. “Also, poisonous to humans, cats, dogs, and horses. Yikes. Way to harsh the romantic vibe.”
“Romantic?”
Cater looked surprised. “Isn’t it obvious?”
“How is it obvious?”
Cater touched the anemone. “This anemone. Know what it means?”
“I assume it’s some sort of dig related to our gullible freshmen.”
Cater laughed. “Not romantic, Rids. Anemones mean ‘I would like to be with you.’ That’s totes romantic!”
“How do you know what it means?”
Cater pointed to the picture in the open book, then slid his finger to the paragraph directly beneath it. “That’s what it says right there. So…any particular reason you’re researching everything about this bouquet?”
Riddle narrowed his eyes. “Why do you ask?”
“I mean, he’s been kinda into you since Day One.”
“Who?”
“Floyd. That’s who gave them to you, right?”
“How do you know that?”
“Like I said. He’s been into you since the beginning.”
Riddle opened his mouth, then shut it. “He’s been a chronic annoyance, I admit, but you’re mistaken if you think there’s more to it than boredom.”
Cater lifted his hand to toy with a strand of hair, a nervous habit that had taken Riddle an embarrassing amount of time to recognize.
“I mean. He always seeks you out in a group.”
“To annoy me.”
“You should see the way his face lights up when he sees you.”
“If that’s what you see, maybe you should borrow Trey’s glasses.”
“Can I see your phone for a sec?”
Riddle studied Cater’s expression carefully, then unlocked his phone and handed it over. A few swipes later, Cater gave it back.
“There!” he said. “The meanings of flowers, right at your fingertips!”
Cater was right. The webpage he’d opened contained much of the same information that Riddle had spent the last hour poring through a textbook for. One glance at the section on carnations had Riddle’s face growing hot, and he quickly set his phone back on his desk, face down.
“Was there something you needed, Cater?”
“You know, since you’re busy, I think Trey can help me with this one.” Cater backed toward the door, but when he reached for the doorknob, he paused. “Hey, Riddle, can I ask you a question?”
Riddle nodded, refraining from pointing out that Cater had, in fact, just asked him one.
“Do you know what tomorrow is?”
What did that have to do with anything?
“Saturday.”
“I mean, like. The date.”
“The 14th. Why?”
Cater hesitated, then he shook his head. “Never mind. Look, I know that you don’t really want to talk about this, and it doesn’t look like you want to talk about it with me, but maybe this is something Trey can help with, too.”
The very thought of discussing “Floyd Leech” and “romance” with one of his oldest (and at one time, only) friends was horrifying, but Riddle kept that to himself. Cater was mistaken about Floyd’s intentions, but his concern was genuine.
Not that there was any need for concern; it wasn’t as if the bouquet had exploded in a cloud of glitter or anything.
That would be more Floyd’s style.
There was no use in borrowing trouble. Floyd was a constant thorn in his side, and had been from the day they’d met, but the bouquet seemed harmless enough, as long as Riddle wasn’t planning on eating it—which he wasn’t—or feeding it to the hedgehogs or the horses in the stables.
Which he also wasn’t planning on doing.
That meant that the safest place for the vase of flowers, away from prying eyes and embarrassing questions, was right here on his desk.
Silver and Sebek were already at the stables when Riddle arrived the next morning. It wasn’t an unusual occurrence—they were both dedicated to their duties as members of the equestrian club—nor was the fact that a bird was perched on Silver’s shoulder. What was unusual was the way Sebek took a moment to tuck a lock of Silver’s hair, one that had escaped from his ponytail, behind his ear. When he saw Riddle approach, he snatched his hand back as if he’d been caught pilfering a tart rather than helping Silver tidy his appearance.
Which wasn’t entirely necessary, since Silver’s helmet would cover it anyway, but then, the two of them had been acting oddly around each other ever since Malleus’ overblot the previous year.
“Good morning, Riddle,” Silver said. “It appears Sebek was right all along.”
“About what?”
“Your being here this morning.”
“Why wouldn’t I be here?”
“That was exactly my question!”
“Sebek,” Silver chided. “It’s just… I thought you would be with Floyd.”
“And I assured him that you had better sense than to go on a date with that lout!”
A date? Had the entire school gone insane?
“Why would I go on a date with Floyd, of all people?”
“Exactly my point!”
Undeterred, Silver forged ahead. “Because he said he was going to ask you on one. I don’t think he meant for me to find out,” he added, “but he was quite upset that a rose had been removed from the bouquet he was carrying. When my bird friend brought it me, Floyd chastised it for its thievery.”
(Riddle couldn’t help wondering if this chastisement had been more of a threat, specifically of the squeezing kind.)
As if summoned, a blue bird—likely the flower thief—alighted on Silver’s finger. When Silver stroked its head gently, he turned his head just enough that Riddle could see that what he thought he’d seen earlier was incorrect. Sebek hadn’t been tidying Silver’s hair; he’d been tucking a red rose into it. It was in full bloom and a brilliant contrast against Silver’s hair. Riddle could see why Floyd had been so upset.
“Silver!” Sebek shouted, appalled. “Why didn’t you tell me this flower was stolen property?!”
“He didn’t mean any harm,” Silver said, receiving an appreciative nuzzle from the bird. “I apologized to Floyd for the misunderstanding, and when I realized the stem was broken, I asked how I could make it up to him. He said that since the flowers were for Goldfishie, I would owe him a favor. I expected it would come up much later, but I’ve since repaid him.”
“Goldfishie!” Sebek pressed his hand to his forehead in despair. “That Floyd Leech needs to be more respectful when addressing others. Calling our liege Sea Slug! The blatant disrespect!”
Riddle agreed with Sebek, but his more pressing concern was this mysterious favor.
“Silver,” he asked carefully. “What exactly was this favor?”
“It was surprisingly trivial,” Silver said. “He asked if you ever went to town, and I said that you had, on occasion. He was rather pleased with that answer.”
“I still don’t understand why you thought Riddle would be on a date with him after all of that!”
“Kalim is the one who figured it out. He was with me when Floyd asked.”
How Kalim had managed to stretch a simple question about Riddle’s ventures into town into an actual date, Riddle wasn’t sure. It was true that Jamil and Floyd were in basketball club together, but that didn’t mean that Floyd had said anything to Jamil. The opposite seemed more likely, but then, Riddle never could predict what Floyd might say or do.
At least, Riddle didn’t think so. But then, Silver had once been a rather insular individual, and now, Riddle understood him much better. It was still sometimes a challenge to determine exactly what Silver was thinking, on the few occasions when Silver didn’t come right out and say, but he smiled more than Riddle had ever seen before. Even when the lower part of Silver’s face was static, those smiles still managed to reach his eyes.
Of course, Silver had much to smile about these days. It was funny how their sophomore year—filled with one catastrophe after another, including a battle with the Charon, an abduction by S.T.Y.X., the entire island becoming a realm controlled by an overblotting Malleus Draconia, and Riddle’s own overblot—had brought about so many changes.
There had been a time when Riddle’s only friends had been Trey and Che’nya. Now, in his third year at Night Raven College, he had a few more, including the current housewarden and vice housewarden of Diasomnia.
“We should saddle up,” Riddle said, not wanting to spend any more time discussing Floyd Leech.
Sebek headed for the tack room first, and it was then that Silver clapped his hand on Riddle’s shoulder.
“If you aren’t sure about Floyd’s intentions, you should ask him directly.”
With that, Silver turned away, the bright red petals of the rose practically glowing against the silver strands of his hair. It was very eye catching …just like the displays at the school store.
Oh. The displays.
Do you know what tomorrow is? Cater had asked.
The 14th, Riddle had replied. He’d been embarrassingly oblivious.
More embarrassing was the idea that Floyd had given Riddle a Valentine’s Day gift. A bouquet that, as Cater had so astutely pointed out, was a romantic gift. And, as Floyd had so rightly pointed out, Riddle had failed to thank him for it.
If Vorpal picked up on Riddle’s tumult of emotions during practice, he was well-trained enough that he’d not let it hamper his performance. Riddle could only hope that the same could be said for himself.
“Floyd.”
At first, Riddle thought that Floyd might not have heard him, or worse, was deliberately ignoring him, but he stopped and turned around.
“Whattya want, Goldfishie?”
Riddle bristled slightly, his apology stuck on his tongue. It would be so much easier if Floyd would stop calling him that ridiculous nickname!
“Thank you for the flowers.”
Floyd grinned, his sharp teeth on full display. “You kept them?”
“Yes,” Riddle said. “They were too beautiful not to.”
“Red,” Floyd said. “Like your hair.”
Riddle’s hair…the very thing that had caught Floyd’s attention at orientation. The very thing that had drawn Floyd to him that first day, that had made Floyd grab Riddle’s head. Riddle had immediately thrown Floyd across the room, using his magic instinctively and unintentionally breaking a school rule. Riddle had been furious with Floyd that day, but he supposed that it had been rather amusing to others. Jade had certainly thought so.
It had taken three years for Riddle to understand Silver a little better, but he’d never been interested in getting to know Floyd, who may or may not have been attempting to ask Riddle on a date. Silver had suggested asking Floyd directly, but Riddle had another idea in mind.
“And yes.”
Floyd’s mismatched eyes lit up. “Yes?”
“Yes,” Riddle said firmly.
Floyd gave a whoop of joy and picked Riddle up with ridiculous ease, spinning him around a few times before setting him down.
“We are gonna have the best time!” Floyd said, lacing his fingers together with Riddle’s.
“I didn’t mean right now!”
Floyd frowned. “Why not?”
Riddle was beginning to regret his impulsivity. “Look at me,” he said. “I’ve just come from the stables, my hair is a mess, and I’m in desperate need of a shower.”
Floyd placed two fingers under Riddle’s chin. “I am looking at you,” he said. “And you’re beautiful.”
Riddle wasn’t prepared for the fluttery feeling those words, said with the utmost sincerity, made him feel. He was even less prepared for the light press of Floyd’s lips against his own, and how that fluttery feeling had turned into something much fiercer, more overwhelming.
There was surely some sort of magic involved, for when Floyd lifted his head, he seemed impossibly handsome in a way that Riddle had never noticed before.
I want to be with you, the anemone had proclaimed, but Floyd had basically been saying that all along.
And for the first time, Riddle wanted to be with Floyd. At least to see where this thing between them was, and where it would go.
But if Floyd Leech thought he could kiss Riddle like that and get away with it, he was very much mistaken.
Riddle grabbed the front of Floyd’s shirt and pulled him down for another kiss—a proper kiss, one that was more than a brief brush of lips. There was nothing in the student handbook about public displays of affection, and there was no rule about kissing a merman-in-human-form in the middle of the courtyard.
He would regret it later, when photos of their first (and second, and the third one where Floyd’s hands were in Riddle’s hair and Riddle liked it) kiss ended up on Magicam, but at least (according to Cater), love was in the air and they weren’t the only couple that had been caught on “kiss-cam,” whatever that was.
Riddle wouldn’t say it was love that he felt for Floyd…
But he wouldn’t say it wasn’t, either.