Leo and Orson quietly slipped back into the sharehouse just before dawn after they met with the spies. The meeting had gone better than expected, and they were now set to steal the Netherbloom flower the next night. 

Bertha had wanted them to act sooner—preferably today—since the supplier had already missed the three-day delivery deadline the day before. But Orson, for reasons unknown to Leo, insisted they wait two more days.

A few hours later, Leo was up for the other appointment by the lake. 

Once he arrived, he sat at a comfortable distance from the bridge, watching the lively fish leap from the water, each splash sending droplets onto his face.

He wiped water off his face for the fourth time. "You could at least play a little more gently, no?"

As if in defiance, one fish flew straight toward his nose with its popping mouth, sliding wetly onto his lap, and then flew back into the water. Its companions swam in circles around celebrating what might have been the greatest flying act in fish history.

Leo barely reacted. In moments like these, he often wondered if these were truly ordinary fish.

Suddenly, a shadow fell over him. Before he could react, warm hands covered his eyes, plunging him into darkness.

"Aren't we a little too old for this?" Leo asked, leaving the hands where they were.

"Not really," came a soft and familiar voice as the hands slipped off his eyes.

"How do you always manage to do that?" Leo turned his head towards Elizabeth.

"Do what?"

"That thing," he said, motioning his hand vaguely. "I never hear your footsteps."

Elizabeth smiled and circled him, her steps so quiet that had he not been watching, he wouldn't have known she was moving. "That's because I don't."

"Don't what?"

Without answering, she stepped onto the surface of the lake. Her feet did not sink, yet no ripples spread from where she stood. It was as if she hovered just above the water, each movement carefully controlled. 

This was floatation and levitation magic on an extraordinary level of mastery that would take many a lifetime to achieve.

Elizabeth drifted a bit farther away. "I can also detect moving bodies within a certain range—like how I found you the other day."

A wave of embarrassment washed over him. 

He covered his mouth with one hand, looking down. "I really didn't mean to do that."

"I know."

"Then at least forget it happened."

She came closer and Leo looked up, still shielding his mouth.

Elizabeth studied him for a few moments, then smiled—a smile tinged with an emotion that made his stomach tighten with nervousness.

"Adorable." She stepped onto the dry land, the stones crunching under her feet for the first time. 

Leo stood, his expression a mixture of mild disgust and surprise. With his head injury and his still-healing nose, he was certain "adorable" was the last word that fit his current state.

"Adorable?" he whispered like it was a foul word you'd never say in public. "I'm sure that word and I don't belong in the same sentence."

"I disagree with that," Elizabeth said as she went into her pocket.

"And I disagree with that disagreement."

"Then, I agree with your disagreement." 

"No, I disagree with that."

"Oh?" She raised a brow, smirking as she pulled out a small balm. "So now you admit they go well together?"

Leo realized the trap he'd stumbled into, and just as he opened his mouth to clarify, Elizabeth placed a finger over it.

"Now, now, it's alright," she said, her mischievous smile making Leo want to argue back. "It's not your fault."

She pointed to the ground. "Do you mind sitting down for me?"

"Why?"

She sighed, her expression almost saying, 'Do you have to argue with everything?'

Leo sighed, dropping to the floor and hugging his knees, resting his chin on them.

He flinched slightly as Elizabeth's hand ran through his hair. His head still felt sensitive, having just been freed from the bandages yesterday.

"Relax," she said, noticing his stiffness. "I'm just applying the medicine."

She inspected the wound closely. "Hm, it's healing well. Give it a few more weeks and you'll be fine."

Unsealing the balm, she scooped a good amount with two fingers.

"Hold this for me," she said, handing him the container. 

With care, she lifted his hair and gently spread the medicine over the wound.

Leo found it strange. It was the same balm Moth used every morning for him, yet Elizabeth's touch felt different. Her soft, repetitive movements were soothing, and he could feel himself succumbing to its drunkening effects.

His eyes drifted shut, his mind sinking into a blissful haze.

"It feels nice, doesn't it?" she said. "Since you complained last time about it feeling too spicy, I added peppermint instead. Better, right?"

"Is that so?" he mumbled, barely coherent as sleep pulled him into its warm embrace.

When he opened his eyes again, the bright blue sky greeted him, making him squint from the sudden exposure.

Two hands shielded his eyes from the glare as Elizabeth leaned over him. "You can rest a little longer. You look exhausted."

He must have dozed off at some point and she offered her lap as a pillow. He knew he shouldn't continue to impose, but the comfort was irresistible.

He wondered if he could push things just a little further.

He grabbed one of her hands and placed it on his forehead. Neither of them spoke, and her hand rested there for a while.

As regret began to creep in, she started stroking his hair, calming his nerves once more.

"I've always thought so, but you have such beautiful hair," she commented.

"You think so?" he replied, closing his eyes. 

Moth was the only one who ever complimented him about it while Orson said his hair looked like wet sand. He remembered how it had been a magnificent golden brown as a child, but now it was dry and pin-straight from neglect.

She played with a lock of his hair.

Leo wasn't one to care much about appearances, but if he had to choose, he preferred the rich brown of her hair. It looked so graceful on her, the curls reminiscent of the gentle waves of the Tamrell seas.

And those eyes...

He turned his head away, not liking where his thoughts were headed.

She continued her soothing strokes, sending him into another round of peaceful sleep.

***

Gathered in the massive kitchen, the servants sat scattered around the room. Each passing minute stretched into what seemed to be an eternity while they waited for a single confirmation, and soon a maid came scrambling into the room.

She merely shook her head and disappointment filled the faces of those present.

"He didn't come today?"

"How could he miss delivery three days in a row?"

Bertha couldn't help but feel worried about whether the man would keep his word, but surprisingly, things had been going better than expected.

"The workers are surely going to notice the change in their food soon," one expressed worriedly.

"They already have," one maid chimed in. "The knights were complaining to me earlier about the reduced meat."

"And what do we do about the king's request for breakfast tomorrow?" another asked anxiously. "We don't have enough vegetables to prepare it."

Murmurs of concern spread through the group, but the head chef—whose decision would dictate their next steps—remained silent. After working with him for years, Bertha knew his silence didn't mean he was pondering a solution, but rather, he was even more stressed than the others.

A small smile tugged at her lips. And this is where I step in. "How about we pay a visit to town ourselves?"

They turned to Bertha.

"What are you saying?"

"You know the king hates his cooks going out. He says he doesn't know what kind of diseases we'll bring in from outside."

"The only time you leave is when you're ill."

"Or when you get fired."

Others nodded in agreement with the last statement.

She sighed internally. This wasn't going to be easy. 

"Are you fine with how things are going, then?" she asked. "We need to find out what's happening and whether or not we'll change our food source in the meantime."

They pondered the issue for a moment, but their expressions showed they weren't yet convinced. Just a little push, she thought.

"And what if the royal steward gets involved?"

Panic flared on the head chef's face.

Of course he would be alarmed. He had nearly lost his job last year after the royal steward accused him of attempted murder when the king choked on a bone. It was later revealed to be a much larger cartilage piece that hadn't been chewed properly, so he was spared. But the steward had long wanted to oust the head chef. Their history was undoubtedly complicated, but Bertha wasn't interested in exploring that now. All she knew was that it wouldn't be good for the head chef if the steward caught wind of his malpractice and corruption.

"Things will get messy if the royal steward gets involved."

A maid shook her head vigorously. "No, I can't get fired over this."

"If it's him, he certainly won't let it slide."

"Not to also mention the Farmeck diplomat who arrived yesterday," Bertha continued. "Everyone knows he's a man of culture—especially fussy when it comes to his food—but we're yet to receive the food items from Farmeck, and if we can't accommodate his tastes..."

Everyone knew the Farmeckian diplomat was notoriously particular when it came to his country, having caused conflicts with other nations over trivial matters like mismatched colors in his room or improperly spiced Farmeckian food. His unpredictability made this a critical time for them as cooks and they couldn't afford to mess up.

With that, they seemed fully convinced that the situation was serious enough if it could potentially cause diplomatic issues.

The head chef let out a deep breath, turning to Bertha. "I would like you to head to town tomorrow and get this sorted by the end of the week."

Panic surged through Bertha. The plan wouldn't take effect until tomorrow.

She maintained a calm demeanor. "I think it would be better to go over the weekend. There will be more people at the palace, and the town will be less busy. We won't raise any suspicion."

The head chef pondered for a moment. "Alright. You leave two days from now, then."

She held back a sigh of relief.

They had only one shot at this, and it was her sincerest prayer that everything would continue to go according to plan.

* * *

With a small bag of soil on one shoulder and a bag of tools held in the other hand, Leo accompanied Yoney to the garden.

"Thank you so much for your help today," she said. "It's been tough for me since Twain's attack, so I really appreciate this."

Leo smiled. "I wouldn't pass up the chance to help a friend of Orson's."

Though he would in a heartbeat.

Yoney returned the smile, thanking him once again.

While they had already achieved their goal in befriending the gardener girl, Orson and Leo agreed that cutting off contact with her right after might raise suspicion. It would be more natural to continue assisting her and then slowly distance themselves.

Orson was supposed to be with them today but had conveniently caught a cold and couldn't join them.

As they approached the entrance, Leo noticed that the number of guards had tripled, and the examination process was much stricter before they were allowed in. Even inside, soldiers were stationed at every turn, prompting Leo to inquire whether a royal was nearby.

"I believe the crown princess and the second princess are having tea at the gazebo," she explained.

"Second princess?" This was news to Leo. The last he had heard, the second princess was away from Gerdia.

"Yes, but she returned a few weeks ago."

Was Orson aware of this? No, if he was he would have informed Leo. Or had he forgotten? I'll have to ask him about it later.

"But I must say, Princess Elizabeth has grown into such a beautiful young lady."

Leo stopped in his tracks.

"I remember her bombarding my father with all sorts of questions about the flowers whenever Lady Triette brought her," she said nostalgically. "She was so cute back then."

Leo's heart raced the more she spoke.

She paused when she realized Leo had fallen behind. "Why are you—"

"This Princess Elizabeth," he croaked quietly. "Could you describe her for me?"

She put a hand to her chin, thinking deeply. "Well, she is quite beautiful."

He clenched his jaw, maintaining composure as much as possible. "No... I meant more of a physical description."

At that, she seemed to struggle worse for her words. "She's a bit on the taller side, with long, flowing brown waves... like pretty, silky things that are also like that thing in the..." She heaved a sigh. "Look, I'm terrible with this kind of thing."

"That's fine," Leo replied softly, barely containing the emotions swirling in the depths of his belly. "Go on."

She sighed again. "Well, she has very beautiful blue eyes, just like the late queen. I've met her twice since her return, and her interactions were always very mature. She speaks quite gently."

"Does she like to wear scarves around her neck?" he asked.

"Yes, yes, that's right!" she said. A sharp pang of pain shot through Leo's chest. "Did you hear rumors, perhaps?"

"Worse," he replied. He had seen it himself.

The bag slipped off his shoulder, and she reached out, but Leo quickly shifted it back into place.

He had foolishly been interacting with one of King Arnold's and what was even more debilitating was the fact that she had stirred feelings he should have shunned away from.

"Are you doing alright there?" she asked.

He shook his head, struggling to move his legs. "I'm fine. And thank you for telling me this, Yoney."

"It's Posey," she corrected.

He laughed dryly. "Right."

They continued onward with Leo still silent, sorting through the jumbled mess of his emotions in the quiet of his heart.