"My aunt says your parents are her best customers.”
Helen giggled. "Yes, my mother is very fond of shoes, and she ordered this pair for my coming of age."
They walked slowly along the trail, the hush of the woods settling around them. Dragonfly balanced the cake pan carefully, mindful not to lose any berries to gravity’s greedy tug. She kept sneaking glances at Helen.
Once, they’d played together—tea parties in gardens with the other village girls. That felt like a lifetime ago. These days, they moved in different worlds. Helen belonged to banquets and dance cards and parlor songs. Dragonfly belonged to dirt under her nails and pine needles in her apron.
Helen was... perfect. Graceful, dainty, effortlessly lovely. The kind of girl Auntie would describe as "symmetrical," like a porcelain figure come to life. That famous North Town look—golden hair, deep sapphire eyes—ran strong in her family line, and Helen had inherited every bit of it.
She had just come of age, but she looked so much more grown. Her figure had already bloomed, soft curves in all the right places, her waist cinched tight with those laced-up bodices she wore so confidently. It wasn’t hard to see why Nic looked at her the way he did.
Dragonfly tried not to feel it. The tug. The ache. She wished she could wear dresses like that too—silk chemises, fine embroidery, stays with delicate lace. But what good would lace do when she spent half her days foraging through briars or scrubbing soot from hearthstones? Even if she had such things, they’d be hidden under her pinafore before anyone saw them.
She was filling out—slowly. Auntie kept saying her shape would come in time, but Dragonfly was tired of waiting. Her hips had begun to round, her chest no longer flat, but it still felt like an awkward in-between. Not quite girl, not quite woman.
Would she ever really catch up?
After a while, when Helen still hadn’t spoken, Dragonfly asked gently, “Nic didn’t pressure you... did he?”
Helen blinked, confused.
“I mean,” she fumbled, “youwantedto go with him—into the bushes?”
Helen’s cheeks turned scarlet. “Oh—no! I mean, yes—Ididwant to. But Nic isn’t like that. He never pushes. I went willingly. We’ve never even—well, you know...” She trailed off, mortified. “I’m sorry you had to see us. I hope you don’t think I’m—”
She stopped herself, visibly flustered. Then quieter, “Nic is... kind. And thoughtful. I know he comes off a little tactless around certain people, but that’s not who he is with me. He’s... different.”
Dragonfly nodded. Hadria had said something similar about Aries once—that boys acted differently in front of their friends to protect their egos. “I didn’t mean to upset you,” she said. “I’d never judge you. Or Nic.”
Helen’s posture softened, her eyes brightening. “He makes me feel happy. He makes me feel... good about myself.”
“He does?” Dragonfly asked, surprised at the gentleness in her own voice.
Helen nodded, her expression turning dreamy. “Before Nic, it was all rules—dancing, studying, trying to be perfect. I love dancing, but my mother made it a punishment. She was furious when I didn’t get lead dancer again this term. But Nic... he doesn’t justtellme I’m beautiful. He makes mefeelit. Not just on the outside, either. It’s like...” She searched for words. “Like I’ve always been carrying stones in my pockets, and with him, I float.”
Dragonfly gave a soft laugh. “He’s always had that carefree air. I think it’s contagious.”
“I wish I’d known him when we were younger.” Helen smiled to herself. Then glanced over. “Butyou’veknown him a long time, haven’t you?”
“Yes. A long time,” Dragonfly said. Then added, “But not the wayyouknow him.”
Helen laughed, a merry, unguarded sound.
“But truly,” Dragonfly added, “I think being with you has changed him. He seems... softer. More mature. Though I doubt his naughty streak will ever be fully tamed. Did you know we call him Naughty Nic of Stargazer Creek?”
Helen blushed, grinning. “Ilikehis naughty ways. But I think that’s how love works, doesn’t it? You bring out the best in each other.”
“Are you in love with him?”
The question slipped out before Dragonfly could stop herself. Immediately, she regretted it—too personal, too pointed. Helen’s expression shifted.
“I’m sorry,” Dragonfly rushed to add. “You don’t have to tell me.”
“No, it’s alright,” Helen said after a pause. “It’s just... I thought I’d been in love before. But this feels different. I don’t know how to explain it.”
Dragonfly tilted her head. She was curious—more than she should be.Maybe Helen hadn’t told Nic about whoever came before. Maybe he was jealous.The thought was... strangely interesting.
Helen let out a sigh, heavy and hesitant. “There was a young Blue Isle sailor. He did some business with my father. Flirted with me. Wrote letters. I thought it meant something. I imagined it did. But then he sailed off last year and never came back.”
