People began to gather, drawn first by the roses and then, as always, by the promise of drama. Curious eyes lingered a little too long, whispers passed from one person to another, and within moments, the small scene had turned into a spectacle.
"Even a single rose is beyond most people's reach," Flora said, her voice sweet with accusation. "How could your peasant husband afford an entire bouquet?"
Isolde stepped forward, eager to add fuel to the fire. "These flowers bloom only once a month. They never sell this much to a single person. How could anyone possibly have this much unless they are…stealing them?"
Aveline's grip on the bouquet tightened slightly, but before she could respond, Theron spoke.
"Why would I need to steal?"
His voice was calm, almost amused, as though the entire accusation barely deserved his attention. He lifted his hand and gently rested it on Aveline's head, a gesture so natural, so intimate, that it silenced a few of the closer onlookers.
