The Faded Bouquet
The lilies in your satchel are wrong, and you know it before you have even finished packing the dried sage and thyme for the Duke’s court. They are white, yes, stark and pristine against the rough burlap, but they should be dead by now, or at least brown and curling in the August heat that bakes the dirt road under your boots. You have carried them for three days since picking them from your...
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