I moved slowly along the stone path of Meredia's garden, my steps slow and my body still heavy in a way that reminded me I had only just woken from a month long coma. The cold bit through my shoes, but I didn't stop. I didn't care. I was tired of sitting in that room for whole day. I needed the air.
Winter had stripped the garden down to its bones.
The place wasn't dead, exactly.. it was nust… quiet like it was holding its breath.
Snow lay thin over the ground, disturbed only by narrow paths where servants must have cleared the way. Most of the plants were bare or wrapped tightly into themselves, branches dark and skeletal against the white. A few stubborn flowers had survived the cold, huddled together near patches of stone that trapped warmth. They were smaller, paler versions of whatever they had once been, their colors washed out to soft blues and silvers, faint purples that looked almost shy.
They didn't smell like anything really,just a faint, clean scent of frost and earth.
Even so, they weren't normal.
One low-growing plant shifted slightly as I passed, its narrow petals curling in on themselves as if offended by the cold. Another gave a faint shimmer, its color deepening and fading slowly, like it was debating whether staying alive was worth the effort.
It was strange for a plant or flower to survive in such cold weather, but perhaps Meredia's garden was watered by magic.
The creatures were fewer too.
A round, thick-furred bunny with a humped back waddled across the path, stopping just long enough to give me a suspicious look before continuing on its way, tail twitching once. Farther ahead, a long-legged creature I couldn't quite identify hopped clumsily through the snow, pausing to sniff the air before bounding off again. High above, something small and winged flitted between bare branches, ears twitching as it let out a faint, squeaky chatter.
Everything felt subdued as if the garden itself was tired.
And yet… it was still alive.
I slowed my steps, staring around me. Even like this, stripped of color and warmth, the place had personality. It wasn't beautiful in the loud, overwhelming way gardens usually were.
From beside me, footsteps crunched softly through the snow.
I turned, already forcing a smile. It was Duchess. "Mother… you're here."
The Duchess walked at my side, her cloak drawn close against her dress. She followed my gaze as it drifted over the garden.
"Oh," she said gently, "you've come out here already."
I just gave her a smile and nodded. We walked in silence for a few steps, then she spoke again.
"You haven't tended to your garden yet?"
I blinked. "Uh… w—why?" I gestured vaguely around us. "It looks… fine. I mean, considering it's winter."
Her pace slowed. Her golden eyes shifted to me, sharp despite the softness of her voice.
"Eri," she said, "you haven't noticed? The back beds have grown wild."
My stomach dropped. I didn't even know what that was.
"Oh…" I laughed, small and nervous. "Right. Wild. I'll take care of them, Mother."
I laughed again, more awkward this time. "I was just… excited to come out. I forgot about the garden."
She stopped walking.
I stopped too and turned slightly to her.
She studied me for a long moment, her gaze searched my face. Finally, she lowered her eyes.
"You seem to have lost interest in your old hobbies," she said quietly.
My heart lurched. "No, Mother, I—"
"It is our fault, isn't it?" she interrupted, her voice softening. "We pressed so many duties upon you that you no longer find joy in the things you once loved."
Crap. Crap crap crap.
She thought I was broken because of them. Not because I had absolutely no idea what she meant by 'wild winter beds.'
I forced a smile that felt too tight. "That's not true. I still love… uh… gardening."
The words came out stiff, like I was answering a question I hadn't studied for.
Her eyes flicked up again.
I panicked. "I mean—look at those flowers." I pointed at a pale cluster near the wall. "They're… still blooming even in winter. I always liked that. They are Strong plants."
Smooth. So smooth.
She tilted her head, expression unreadable.
Okay. Not convinced.
I tried again. "And the bell-shaped ones. Even when they don't smell much, they're still pretty like… quiet little lanterns."
Why am I talking like this?
For a heartbeat, she simply watched me. I could practically feel her peeling layers off my soul.
Then, mercifully, her expression softened.
"Then perhaps," she said gently, "you should spend more time here again. The garden always brought you peace."
I nodded immediately, fast. "Yes. Definitely. I can't wait to… tame the wild winter flowers."
God help me if she asks how.
She exhaled softly, her hand brushing her cloak as if smoothing invisible wrinkles.
"You know," she said, quieter now, "perhaps I am to blame. We rarely had time like this together. Walks... Afternoons. I sometimes feel I do not truly understand you, Eri."
My chest tightened. Because the Duchess truly didn't understand Meredia. This was why there was an unspoken rift between mother and daughter.
That one hurt. And it wasn't even meant for me.
She reached out, taking my gloved hand in hers. "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."
I nodded, swallowing, my nose hurt from cold. "Yes, Mother… I would like that."
Would I? She was sweet, but one wrong move and I could be exposed and caught red-handed over tea I didn't know how to drink properly.
Her smile brightened. "Good. Then it is settled."
I had just started to relax when she added, casually,
"Besides, your eighteenth birthday approaches. Your debutante shall be held as well."
I froze mid-step.
Debutante.
As in gowns, balls, nobles, judgment....and peacock feathers of doom?
I forced a weak laugh. "Ah… right. That."
Her eyes sparkled as she leaned closer. "Preparations began a month ago. The halls are being polished, the tailors are already at work, and the guest list…" she smiled knowingly, "half the kingdom is eager to see you. Nobles. Ladies. Envoys from other duchies."
Half the kingdom.
Internally, I sank about six feet underground.
But then… something unexpected stirred in my chest.
I never got to celebrate my eighteenth birthday in my own life. Lupus had beaten me to it, stealing that small milestone from me. And I was alone anyway. I had no grandma or any friends.
But here she was..this woman...this mother who was not mine but still made me feel loved like mine beaming at the thought of celebrating me.
I felt my lips curve upward, real this time. "That… actually sounds exciting."
Her hand tightened around mine. "You deserve joy, Eri. A day meant only for you."
My throat prickled. I bit down hard, annoyed at myself. Tears started forming in the corner of my eyes.
Why are you crying? She's talking about dresses, not your sad little apartment and hospital beds.
But her warmth spilled over me anyway, soft and sincere, wrapping around my heart like a winter cloak.
I didn't feel entirely out of place.
We ended up spending the entire noon talking about the debutante, and the real shocker was that I wasn't bored even once.
Turns out planning a royal-level birthday-slash-introduction-to-society event was basically like running a full-blown circus. And guess who the main attraction was?
Yeah. Me.
There was so much to do over the next three months it almost felt unreal.
The first month would disappear into logistics like arranging decorations, reserving halls, deciding menus, sending invitations to what felt like the entire kingdom.
The second month? That one was apparently all about me—dresses, jewels, hair and more dresses and more ifferent hair.
But squeezed between all that were lessons about How to stand. How to walk. How to smile and how to speak without sounding like a complete fool in front of nobles.
Apparently, my schedule was about to be packed tighter than my corset.
Oh, and fun fact: time in this world didn't work exactly like mine.
They had lunar hours and solar hours. Lunar hours stretched from sunset, through the night, until sunrise. Solar hours ran from sunrise to sunset.
Meredia, aka me now, was born in the seventh month, in the seventh solar hour, thirty-six minutes in. Weirdly specific.
Which, in simpler terms, meant she was born at eleven thirty-six.
After her birthday, summer officially began in Valkathra.
Not that her birthday caused summer or anything, but hey! trivia is trivia.
The Duchess practically glowed as she flipped through the plans, her fingers tracing invisible checklists in the air. One moment she smiled like a teenager gossiping with her closest friend. The next, she was biting her lip, muttering under her breath.
"They never attend… but he is Kirill's companion as well. 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 even a single thing and he takes offense? What if the food displeases him? What if—"
Her voice dropped, as though the walls themselves were listening.
"What if the royal family thinks us incapable?"
I blinked at her, caught somewhere between wanting to pat her hand and wanting to sprint in the opposite direction. This was Duchess Elowen, the woman of grace, steel, and terrifying authority, yet merely saying "Crown Prince" had her spiraling the same way I used to during math exams back in high school.
"Mother," I said with a small, nervous laugh, "I'm sure no one's going to judge us by… I don't know...uhm...soup bowls or something?"
She didn't even look at me, still muttering and worrying, lost deep inside her noble world of what-ifs.
Meanwhile, I sipped my tea, staring vaguely toward the garden outside like yeah I am totally ready to meet the literal Crown Prince of this world.
No problem at all.