The Bloom of Violet

“Eat,” Lennox whispered. Ingrid watched her son for a moment before turning her gaze to the child nibbling on the sweets, one bite at a time.

Now clean, she looked as endearing as a smooth pebble. Even when she had been huddled in a corner of the carriage in tattered clothes, Ingrid had thought the child looked like a pretty little doll.

Her delicate features, lush eyelashes, silver hair as mysterious as an ancient princess, and eyes like glass marbles… Now, freshly washed by the maids, her doll-like features seemed to bloom like a budding flower.

“Not bad,” Ingrid thought to herself.

She recalled her son saying he wanted to keep this child by his side. A street girl from the slums in the royal palace? Many would find it preposterous, but if the queen adopted an orphan, it wouldn’t be a bad look. Ingrid saw this as an opportunity—an opportunity to separate Yvonne from Lennox.

“Is it good?” Ingrid asked Ann softly, watching her nibble the sweets with her small, bird-like mouth. Ann shyly flushed and nodded, “Yes.”

“When do I go home?”

“And where is your home?”

Holding Ann’s wrist as they strolled through the garden, Lennox stopped and turned to look at her. Ann pulled her wrist away and looked up at him. His face reminded her of the queen. When she had first met the queen, they hadn’t seemed alike, but seeing them alternately now, their features appeared strikingly similar.

Ann opened her mouth to speak but closed it again. She had no answer to where her home was—because she didn’t have one. As her gaze wandered to the rounded edges of the flowerbed, Lennox smiled. It was a bright, cheerful smile.

“See? You don’t have anywhere to go.”

His words stung like a needle, and Ann glared at him. Lennox just kept smiling. Frustrated, she turned on her heel to leave, but his vine-like hand caught her arm.

“Live with me.”

“What?”

“There are plenty of rooms in the palace. You saw my mother’s quarters, right? There’s room enough for you.”

“But—”

“You’re my savior,” Lennox interrupted her. Ann blushed at the word “savior.” Could she really be called that? It felt far too grand a title for her. Lowering her gaze, she hesitated. Lennox’s hands cupped her flushed cheeks.

Startled by his sudden touch, Ann flinched. Her heart raced, pounding so loudly she feared he might hear it. Overwhelmed, she pushed him away with all her strength. Lennox looked at her in surprise.

“What’s wrong?”

His calm voice matched the steady gaze fixed on her. Ann glared at him briefly before turning and running away. Like escaping a monster, she fled through the labyrinth-like Störope Garden. Lennox watched her go, feeling the lingering warmth of her touch on his fingers. It tickled like a feather brushing against him.

That evening, Ann returned to the queen’s quarters late. Lost in the maze-like garden and unsure of her way, she had wandered until the prince’s servant found her. She had been sitting alone by a wall covered in ivy, crying quietly. The servant brought her back to the queen’s quarters.

The Duchess of Valenska scolded her with a stern face, “You really are a troublemaker.” Ann, her face still wet with tears, apologized meekly.

Fortunately, the queen did not look angry. She gently patted Ann on the shoulder and handed her over to a maid. Ann was then taken to her small bedroom near the queen’s quarters. Sniffling, she returned to her room.

As she lay on the soft bed, replaying her foolish actions in her mind, there was a sudden knock at the door. A voice asked if it could come in. Startled, Ann sat up. The voice was familiar—calm and kind.

“Yes! Please come in!” she called out, hurriedly wiping her tear-streaked face with her sleeve. The door clicked open, and a petite woman stepped inside. It was Countess Herborn. Ann looked at her cautiously.

The woman had bright, soft brown curls like lamb’s wool, tied into a low bun, adorned with a coral hairpin shaped like a lotus. Unlike the stern-faced Duchess of Valenska, Countess Herborn’s round face exuded warmth and kindness.

“I thought you might have missed dinner, so I brought a light snack. You must be hungry, right?” the countess asked gently, her voice soft as she gazed at Ann, who sat with her hands clasped. She instructed a maid to set up a meal on the small round table and motioned for Ann to sit.

The “light snack” was anything but simple. Steam rose from a hearty pot-au-feu, surrounded by various breads, roasted duck leg with pepper sauce, and fresh fruit juice.

“Go ahead, eat,” Countess Herborn encouraged, placing a spoon in Ann’s hand. Ann took a bite of the warm pot-au-feu, soothing her empty stomach. The morning had been chaotic since Lennox’s visit, and she had barely touched her breakfast.

Smiling faintly, Ann thanked the countess, who returned the gesture with a soft smile. The woman found Ann so endearing, like a doll.

“I heard from His Highness,” the countess said. “You mentioned wanting to go home?”

Ann froze mid-bite. Though the words were kind, the mention of Lennox caused her shoulders to stiffen. She swallowed the bread in her mouth and looked up at the countess, who seemed to be carefully considering how to proceed.

The Duchess of Valenska, Helena, thought lightly of the matter, reasoning that the girl should be grateful if they took her in since she was an orphan. But her perspective differed. No matter her status, an orphan still had a will of her own, just as even slaves possessed their own will.

Especially Ann, who, though docile, seemed like a sensitive child. The court and its people were unfamiliar and likely frightening for her. Forcing anything on her felt wrong. After all, this wasn’t just any child—she was the one who saved the only prince’s life.

Before discussing her lowly birth, gratitude was paramount. It was their negligence—hers and the servants’—that had allowed the prince to leave the palace and nearly lose his life. If not for this child, the prince might no longer be in this world. She deserved to be treated well.

“You must be hungry. Eat while we talk,” Countess Herborn said gently, watching the frozen child before her as she sliced a piece of roasted duck and held it out. Ann’s gaze fell on the tender, pinkish meat glistening with juices. She accepted the offered fork and took a bite. The smoky flavor of the roast and the rich pepper sauce were delightful.

“His Highness mentioned he wants you to stay in the palace with him. The Queen also said she’d be willing to take you in, if you’re okay with it,” Countess Herborn said.

Ann looked up at her. The woman’s warm hazel eyes were comforting, like a mother’s. Unlike the Duchess of Valenska or the Queen, she had a gentler, kinder demeanor. Perhaps it was because of this warmth that Ann, despite having resisted the allure of fine bedding and delicious food, felt her heart begin to stir.

The thought of blushing like an apple in front of Lennox was mortifying, and meeting the Queen or the Duchess was terrifying beyond words. But with this woman, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

“Would it be okay for me to stay here?” Ann asked cautiously.

“Of course. You’re a very special child. Didn’t you save His Highness, our prince? The prince is not only the king’s heir but also the future of our kingdom. So, Ann, you’ve essentially saved the future of our kingdom,” Countess Herborn said.

The notion of saving the kingdom’s future made Ann’s cheeks flush again. Such grand words felt overwhelming.

“That’s not true. I just did what anyone else would have done,” Ann replied, her voice small. “Anyone would have done the same…”

“But you were the only one who did. You saved the prince’s life, risking your own. No one thinks that was an easy feat,” the Countess said firmly yet warmly.

Ann lifted her head. The Countess stood and approached her. Rising from her chair, Ann looked up at the woman. Kneeling to meet her gaze, Countess Herborn cupped Ann’s cheeks with her bare hands.

“I heard your mother passed away early in your life. I know I can never be your mother, no matter how hard I try, but, Ann…” Her words softened, and her kind eyes met Ann’s.

Despite the Countess being utterly different from her late mother in appearance, voice, status, and life experiences, Ann’s heart felt warm. It was as if her mother were there with her.

“I’ll do my best,” the Countess said, smiling a steady, reassuring smile. Ann bit her lip lightly. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes.

From then on, Ann lived in the Queen’s quarters. Her room was a small bedroom with a modest balcony. Yet it was far from shabby, with its ornate canopy bed, beige wallpaper adorned with delicate wildflower patterns, and rosewood vanity and round table. Though small, the space was charming and cozy.

While Ann did not receive the same resources as the daughters of noble families, the Queen ensured she lacked nothing materially. Under the care of the Queen and the maids, Ann grew up as well as the daughter of any high-ranking nobleman. The Queen and her attendants, refined and cultured, were excellent role models. Naturally, Ann, learning under their tutelage, blossomed into a young lady well-regarded in society.

However, as Charlotte once pointed out, the treatment Ann received was far beyond her station. Ann couldn’t refute this—it was true. Her life had been completely transformed by a single act of courage.

An orphan girl from the slums now served as an attendant in the Queen’s household—a position even daughters of noble families found difficult to attain. While the duties of an attendant were often limited to serving tea or assisting with chores, the title itself was more of an honorary role, with few actual responsibilities.

Ann couldn’t decide whether this new life was a blessing or a curse. It was certainly something to be grateful for—her late parents would have been overjoyed. Her mother, especially, would have been ecstatic, leaping through the clouds with happiness.

And yet, Ann couldn’t fully embrace this happiness. Everything she had now felt excessively undeserved. Moreover…

“So you’re Ann? I’ve heard a lot about you,” a gentle yet sharp voice said, startling Ann.

The speaker was a remarkably beautiful young woman, but there was an edge to her presence that was hard to ignore. Though she wore a bright, radiant smile, something about her felt cold and prickly.

Ann’s gaze shifted to Lennox, standing beside the girl. His face was as calm as always. Ann glanced at him briefly before looking away. The girl let out a soft chuckle. Though faint, there was an unmistakable chill in her demeanor, like the prick of a thorn.

“I’m Charlotte. Charlotte de Beaub. You can call me Charlotte,” she said, extending her hand.

Ann hesitated, staring at the pale, delicate hand before meeting Charlotte’s eyes. Then her gaze shifted to Lennox. Charlotte withdrew her hand momentarily and turned to him, as if asking for an introduction.

Lennox broke the silence. “She’s my fiancée.”

“Fiancée…” Ann murmured, the word hanging in the air. It hit her like a blow to the head. She replayed the meaning of “fiancée” in her mind—it meant someone he would marry in the future. This girl was the one Lennox would marry. The thought unsettled her.

Her heart pounded in her chest, though it felt different from before. Heat rose to her cheeks as she fought to keep her emotions in check. She fixed her gaze on Lennox, who extended a hand to Charlotte and suggested they move to the prepared tea table.

“Of course, Your Highness,” Charlotte said, placing her hand gently in his and smiling.

Lennox led his fiancée away with a graceful stride. Ann stood frozen, watching him. Then he turned back.

“What are you doing?”

“…”

“Why are you just standing there?”

“I…”

“Sophia made strawberry jam herself. Let’s go.”