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chapter 42
“Huh?”
I stopped mid-sentence because it sounded like the princess had just muttered something. I tried to read her expression to catch what she’d said, but her head was bowed, hiding her face.
Instead, I noticed her shoulders trembling slightly.
Gasp! Could it be… was she crying? Was she moved to tears by the tender love story of the princess and the prince…?
“I said he’s a bastard. He completely toyed with her feelings, didn’t he?”
…Or not.
The princess jerked her head up, her expression fierce, eyes blazing with a fury that looked hot enough to shoot flames.
Apparently, it wasn’t the princess who had been crying—it was her fists.
“From the start, it’s obvious he visited the princess’s kingdom to request troops before starting a war. He seduced the princess to gain leverage for negotiations. Then, when she wanted an answer, he dodged it. A prince of a nation acting like a petty, cowardly scoundrel. No wonder he only stayed a prince and never became crown prince—his character was trash.”
Her criticism was brutally sharp, and deeply political.
“Um… well… later, when the prince went off to war, he died in an unexpected accident.”
“Ha! Serves him right! As expected, old stories are about punishing evil and rewarding good!”
I continued the tale, and the princess chimed in with fiery commentary.
“When the princess heard the news, she was devastated. Overcome with grief, she eventually died as well.”
“What? Why? He was dead and gone already—she should have lived proudly to spite him!”
“…Actually, the prince had suffered a serious illness as a child, which left him unable to speak.”
The sudden twist quieted the princess.
“That’s why he couldn’t confess his love or propose to her… um…”
“…”
“At the spot where the princess died, a wonderfully fragrant herb later grew. That flower was lavender. And so, the flower language of lavender became… silence.”
A deep, heavy silence also stretched between the princess and me.
“Well, originally it’s a flower with such a sad legend… but, um… someone like you, Princess, who’s highly educated and has such a sharp political eye, could interpret it differently depending on perspective.”
I tried to frame her take in the most positive light. But her expression was still dark.
“There’s sign language, isn’t there? And letters, too. Was that prince illiterate as well?”
She put forward another theory—or maybe a conspiracy.
Why, of all things, did lavender have to catch my eye? Why did I have to remember that legend? I could’ve just said, “Well, flowers just have meanings, that’s how it is!” and left it at that!
“Well… you know how old stories are.”
I only managed an awkward laugh, dodging the question. I didn’t know either!
“Anyway, lavender has that meaning. And this geranium here means determination or affection. This lilac means first love. And the tall hollyhock means comfort.”
After giving a few examples, I moved toward the flower I’d marked out earlier.
“And these tulips mean ‘confession of love.’”
The princess, still sulking over the lavender story, suddenly widened her eyes at the tulips.
When she saw their smooth, curved petals and cute, round shape, the corners of her lips twitched. Lavender princess forgotten—she now wanted to be tulip princess.
“Oh! But what if the other person doesn’t know the flower’s meaning? Then wouldn’t I just be the princess who randomly handed over flowers?”
“Then you make them learn.”
I gave her a wicked smile.
“Is this… what you mean?”
Sir Winchester spoke quietly as he looked down at the table. More precisely, at the pile of laurel branches stacked upon it.
“Yes. I pruned the laurel tree in the garden and thought it’d be a waste to just throw them out.”
“You mean it’d be a waste to throw away branches?”
“Laurel leaves are very useful. Leave them in a room and they smell nice, even keep bugs away. In cooking, they remove the smell from meat—they’re really handy.”
“And you want me to hand these out to the knights?”
“Yes. They can hang them in their rooms or use them in food.”
Even after my explanation, Sir Winchester just stared at them in silence.
“I doubt any of them particularly want their rooms to smell.”
“Not smell—fragrance. ‘Smell’ makes it sound… well… stinky, doesn’t it?”
“Aren’t they the same thing?”
He looked at me like he couldn’t understand.
“And besides, most of them don’t cook for themselves.”
“Oh, really? But aren’t there commoners among the knights?”
“There are, but very few. Most knights are trained through apprenticeship, which usually requires noble birth. Commoners are generally soldiers. Only those with exceptional talent may, through training, become knights.”
“I see. Well, in any case, I wrapped them nicely. Just tell them it’s a gift from their superior’s wife.”
“This ribbon?”
“Yes.”
“There’s even a card?”
“Yes.”
Just as he said, I had bundled the branches neatly like a bouquet, tied them with ribbon, and tucked in a little card—even if it was the same message in every one.
“‘The flower language of laurel is victory and glory. May victory and glory always be with you in the days ahead.’”
He pulled one card from the bundle and read it aloud. Then he looked back down at the branches.
“Flower language, you say…”
“Oh, yes. Laurel carries that meaning. Suits knights, doesn’t it?”
“But this isn’t even a flower.”
“Technically… true. But still.”
I recalled my earlier talk with the princess and decided to skip the detailed explanation. What mattered was that the knights of the royal order learned that flowers carry meanings.
After all, the one the princess liked was part of the royal knights. Considering the limited pool of men she could meet, it wasn’t surprising.
Sir Winchester stared at the laurel bundle, as though it made no sense.
“If you don’t want to take it, that’s fine.”
I called to his back. Maybe, as captain of the knights, handing out laurel bundles to his men would feel undignified.
“I don’t dislike it.”
Finally, he tore his gaze away from the branches.
“I just don’t understand assigning meanings to plants. I don’t see the point of attaching meaning to meaning.”
“It’s fun.”
I grinned as I answered.
“Fun?”
He looked even more puzzled.
“Isn’t it boring to just say, ‘That flower is pretty’? But if you add meanings, stories, even legends—it’s fun.”
It was already late. Snuggling into bed, I pulled up the blanket and spoke.
It had been a tiring day—visiting the palace, meeting the princess, pruning laurel trees, tying ribbons to the branches, writing dozens of cards.
“Rather than just handing out laurel leaves, saying, ‘Laurel means victory and glory~’ makes the gift more meaningful. The recipient will feel happier, conversations can spark from it. That’s the charm.”
At that, Sir Winchester gave a small nod. My practical reasoning seemed to finally get through.
“So… every flower has a meaning?”
“Hmm. I don’t know if every one does. I don’t know all the flowers in the world, after all.”
“Then…”
As he approached the bed, his gaze stopped on something.
“What’s the meaning of that flower?”
Following his line of sight, I saw it—the pink roses I had received earlier today as a gift from the princess.
