She crossed her arms. “I just came from there.”
Just then, Helen whimpered softly, the sound fragile as spun glass.
"What’s the matter, Biscuit?"
"She needs help with her lacings," Dragonfly snapped coldly.
Nic raked a hand through his tousled hair, finally letting go of the cocky mask he wore like armor. His voice was quiet, almost desperate. “Can you help her, please? I tried to lace her up once before but...”
Dragonfly looked away. His gaze was too earnest, too soft—and far too familiar. She knew that look. She’d grown up watching it work on nearly every girl in town.
But not her.
Still, the pleading in his eyes tugged at her resolve, and she hated that it did.
A scrub jay hopped too close to her cake pan, eyeing the blackberries with bold intent. Grateful for the excuse to turn, she shooed it away.
Nic followed her eyes, then scooped up the pan and brought it back to her, voice low and wheedling. “Please. For Helen’s sake.”
He smiled. Those dimples. That same boyish charm he wielded like a weapon. She crossed her arms. She was not one of those foolish girls who melted at his grin. He deserved a good scare from Helen’s father, truly—but Helen didn’t. Poor Helen.
Dragonfly had delivered her family’s tax payments more than once. Evenshefound the steward frightening. She couldn’t imagine how Nic had ever summoned the courage to call on the man’s daughter. Or maybe he hadn’t. Maybe it had all been secret.
Still, Helen was the one who’d get in trouble. The image of her—timid, sweet, sobbing in a laced-up bodice—made Dragonfly sigh.
“Fine,” she muttered. “How do I get in there?”
Nic’s face lit up, and he turned, leading her around the hedge maze toward the entrance. The bushes had definitely been cut—clean and deliberate. There was no knife on him, but it didn’t take much to guess how often he came here.
She hesitated at the narrow gap in the foliage. The place felttooprivate. A world she had no right to step into. This was where they kissed and clung and whispered things no one else was meant to hear. She had no business crossing that threshold.
But then Helen—curled in on herself, shoulders trembling, face hidden in her skirt.
Dragonfly’s stomach twisted.
Her voice cracked as she spun on Nic. “Look what you did.”
Nic was already at Helen’s side, dropping into the clover like it was the most natural thing in the world. He pulled her close, murmuring soft reassurances, pressing her face against his chest.
He looked like he adored her.
The way he held her—gentle, protective, entirely focused—made Dragonfly’s chest swell. She shouldn’t have been watching. Sheshouldn’t have feltanything at all.
But she did.
There was tenderness between them. Real tenderness. It wasn’t just about stolen kisses and fumbling hands—it was comfort, loyalty, affection that asked for nothing in return.
Was this what love looked like?
She imagined Collin, not as a friend or companion, but as a lover. Would he hold her like that—shielding her from the world, anchoring her in his arms? And if the time came, could she offer him the same safety, the same unwavering devotion?
Helen, curled small against Nic, was still crying. No surprise—being caught like that must’ve been mortifying. Nic was doing his best to soothe her, but his words could only reach so far. And Helen’s fear about her disheveled clothes was probably justified.
Dragonfly hesitated. The whole thing still too surreal—like she'd walked into a chapter of someone else’s life.How had these two even fallen in love?Nic was loud, teasing, impulsive. Helen was quiet as snowfall. They couldn’t have been more different. What had Lekyi been thinking introducing them?
Still... they’d found each other.
She sighed and stepped forward. “Let me help you, Helen. I promise, I won’t say a word to anyone.”
