Seraphine’s Unseen Garland — Before the palace bells warmed their bronze throats, Princess Seraphine carried a thin silver needle through the east arcade. Read the full story →
Before the palace bells warmed their bronze throats, Princess Seraphine carried a thin silver needle through the east arcade. She had set herself a quiet challenge: before sunrise, she would add one beautiful thing where no one would think to thank her. The stone floor felt cool through her slippers, and moonlight lay across the window ledges like spilled milk. From a basket on her arm came the peppery smell of garden leaves and the sweet breath of late roses.
She stitched a garland of little blossoms along the curtain cord, careful not to wake the doves in the rafters. “Just enough,” she whispered, and tied the last knot behind a fold of velvet. The far windows held the towers in blue shadow. Seraphine stood still, listening to the soft tick of her own pearl necklace against her dress, pleased that the flowers would greet the maids, guards, and pages without ever saying her name.
Then the first sunbeam entered—not from the window she faced, but from the polished floor below. Every carved flower on the columns caught the light and seemed to bloom back at her: stone petals, curtain blossoms, roses she had sewn, all answering one another. The gallery had been making its own garland all along, and hers was simply the newest part. Next time you find those flowers by the curtain, see if you can spot the knot Seraphine hid before the palace bells warmed their bronze throats.
