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The bell above the flower shop door jingled as Rhaenyra pushed it open, Luke bouncing at her side, his small hand tugging insistently at hers almost dragging her inside.
A dull ache throbbed behind her temples. All she wanted was to pick up flowers for Luke's class event, something simple to brighten the display.
"Mama, look!" Luke gasped, eyes wide as he took in the walls of blooms, every color brighter than the next. "It's like a rainbow exploded!” He sniffed quickly "And it smell like candy!"
"Luke," Rhaenyra hushed gently, smoothing his curls. "Remember your manners.”
But her son was already darting forward, sneakers squeaking on the polished floor as he made a beeline for the counter.
Behind it, Mysaria lifted her head. Black hair fell sleek and glossy over her shoulder, her pale fingers stilled on the ribbon she had been tying. Her eyes, dark and cool, flicked from the boy to his mother. She didn't speak.
Luke leaned forward, chin barely over the counter, grinning up at her. "Hi!"
For a moment, Mysaria only regarded him. Then her lips slowly curved into a small smile, and she lifted her hand in a quiet wave.
Luke blinked, then tilted his head. "You don't talk?”
Heat prickled across Rhaenyra’s cheeks. “Luke,” she murmured, striding forward, “that’s not polite.”
But Mysaria only tilted her head, something subtle sparking in her gaze. She nodded once, slow.
Luke’s grin was blinding. “That’s okay. I can talk.”
Rhaenyra’s mortification was cut short as Mysaria moved, her hand slipping to a vase at her side. She carefully plucked a single flower, a bright, simple, cheerful Daisy and held it out.
Luke gasped, clutching it to his chest like treasure. “For me?”
A faint curve touched Mysaria’s lips. She nodded again.
“See, Mama?” Luke turned, triumphant. “She likes me!”
Rhaenyra’s heart stumbled in her chest. She forced her face stern, though her voice softened despite herself. “Say thank you.”
“Thank you beautiful Lady!” Luke chirped.
Mysaria dipped her chin, eyes lingering on Luke before settling on Rhaenyra, her gaze steady and unreadable. For a moment, the air seemed to hum.
Rhaenyra looked away first. “I need a bouquet,” she said briskly, voice lower than before. “For a class event tomorrow. Something bright, not too fussy.”
Mysaria didn’t answer. She didn’t need to. She turned silently, moving with a grace that drew the eye despite the simplicity of her motions. Stems, ribbons, soft green leaves gathered under her fingers like they’d been waiting for her command.
Rhaenyra watched without meaning to. The way Mysaria’s hands moved, decisive, sure, yet strangely tender. She chose colors that shouldn’t have worked together but somehow did. Creams and whites for calm, soft peach and pink for warmth, a touch of lavender and yellow that should have clashed but somehow looked joyful instead. Even the green stems seemed to belong, all woven together beautifully.
When she set it on the counter, Rhaenyra blinked. Somehow, it was perfect, bright enough for a classroom, but balanced with a softness.
Her throat tightened. “It’s… lovely.”
Mysaria only lifted a brow, as if to say of course it is, and slipped a ribbon around the stems with a final tug. She pushed it gently across the counter.
Rhaenyra hesitated, fingers brushing the bouquet, and found Mysaria’s gaze waiting for her. Dark, steady, unwavering. The weight of being seen pressed warm and unsettling in her chest.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
Mysaria inclined her head. Still no words. But somehow, none were needed.
Luke tugged her sleeve, daisy still clutched tight in his small hand. “Mama, can we come back? Please?”
Rhaenyra almost said no out of habit, caution, the instinct to shield. But Mysaria was still looking at her, lips softened at the edges, black hair like a veil under the shop lights.
Her voice came out quieter than intended. “Perhaps.”
When they left, the bell jingling softly behind them, Rhaenyra risked one glance back. Mysaria stood as she had before, behind the counter, but her eyes followed them until the door closed.
And though it had only been a daisy, only a bouquet, Rhaenyra walked away with the strange, unsettling certainty that something had begun.