Chapter 28: Two Love Letters

Bold! Far too bold!

Frandor never imagined Isabelle daring to wrap an arm around her waist in public—such intimacy!

Blush raced from cheeks to earlobes. No reply—just head down, hoping unnoticed.

Ostrich-like.

But queen? Eyes everywhere.

Nobles’ gazes flickered—thoughts unknown. Isabelle inwardly sneered at their schemes.

Since abyss-seal prophecy, noble ambitions reignited. Chaos looming—they eyed throne.

Trouble for Frandor. Policies stalled by two-faced lords. Public grumbled.

Isabelle’s public waist-hold: Oracle backs queen.

Persist in folly? Oracle—goddess’s name—punishes evil, uplifts good.

Lips curved. Isabelle felt gazes shift—more awe, hesitation. Then, bouquet in hand, maids escorting, exited hall.

True rear: sacred mountain. Living quarters flanked. Mountain modest—summit: colossal goddess statue.

Before statue, Isabelle placed bouquet. Knelt. Hands clasped. Eyes closed. Prayed.

Final Blossom Rite: flowers to goddess.

Prayer ended. Statue sensed wishes—rainbow beam skyward.

Flowers blanketed capital skies. Petals rained. Amid sea—holy silhouette.

Isabelle.

Capital truly floral ocean. Masses knelt toward mountain, praying miracle-goddess grant wishes.

Unbeknown: miracle—Oracle craft, not goddess.

…

Oracle living quarters.

Philly on second-floor balcony. Hand out—caught drifting petals.

White. Gold. Faint fragrance—like Isabelle’s bath scent.

Then—two maids passed. Lilies each.

“Lady Ver—such flirt. Flowers for everyone.”

Complaint—smile inexplicably sweet.

“Careful! Head maid hears—your butt blooms!”

“Hmph. Joke. Who misses Ver’s true intent?”

Maid sniffed lily.

“Flowers so we’re not unloved… Cold facade—gentler than any. If her beloved—die happy!”

“Hah. Rumors: Ver sabotaged Saintess Celis—absurd! Ver’s not like that!”

“What?! Such talk?!”

Maid shocked—then furious. Fists for rumormongers.

Philly’s eyes dimmed.

Noble-born—she knew rumor power. Individual helplessness. Even saintess—couldn’t silence all.

Plus… loneliness.

Palm petals. Smile faded.

Flower Festival custom: flower to cared ones.

Learned recently.

Never received one.

Parents alive? Maybe. But infant—only cries.

Downward glance—maids frolicked petal-rain. Lilies all.

Envy.

If born Oracle, not noble—carefree, happy like them?

Yes.

Alas—no birth choice.

Gaze withdrawn. Left balcony. Drew curtains.

She didn’t belong. Outsider. Their smiles—heartache.

Slight dejection. Corner turn—bumped Renia.

“Ouch!”

Tumbled awkwardly. Looked up—Renia panting lightly. Forehead sweat. Dress disheveled.

Lip bitten. Rose, dusted dress. Feigned casual.

“Renia? Where from? Just back?”

“Here.”

No answer. Renia thrust lilies forward.

Philly froze.

“For… me?”

“Take.”

Tone cool—commanding tint. Not offensive. Philly accepted. Eyes reddened instantly.

“Renia…”

Renia looked away.

“No misunderstanding. Not from me.”

“Then…”

“Lady Ver’s order.”

“But thank you anyway, Renia.”

“Thank Lady Ver.”

Wave. Ignored teary smile. Renia left.

No thanks wanted. Still recalled miss scrubbing Philly’s back.

Years serving—never such service!

Enemy.

True enemy!

Thus minded, passed saintess lounge.

Paused. Ice face—sudden smile.

White petals wind-drifted in. Desk: two pure, beautiful lily bunches. Like shy love letters.