A Bouquet at Her Door
Her door creaked faintly as Cassidy pushed it ajar, the slight wooden protest cutting through the silence of her room. She hadn't anticipated anything out of the ordinary—merely a servant bearing tea or maybe one of the maids making rounds. But the instant the opening was wide enough, her eyes went wide with it.
Her breath trapped.
Beyond the doorway was something so opulent that her senses struggled. A bouquet—if she could even call it that—towered high and wide, so broad it appeared to cover the gate completely. Flowers of every color under the sun cascaded together in harmonious chaos: roses like spilled crimson wine, lilies white as first snow, violets dark as night, orchids glowing softly violet-blue, and tiny flowers in colors she had no name for.
