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“Your life cannot be stopped or oppressed for someone else’s. This isn’t your fight.” Haruka’s black eyes met Primrose’s.
“It’s not my fight, but it is my family. It’s my mom and dad, it’s Sera, it’s you!” Primrose slugged onto her bed, sitting down and folding in on herself.
Haruka wrapped her arms around her. “I think you should wear your purple overdress with a white chemise. Everyone always wears yellows and oranges to the festival, so you’ll really stand out!”
Haruka’s words were a peace offering Primrose was willing to take.
“And for any extra days?”
“Bring the same style in blue or gray.” Haruka smiled.
“Watch over everyone while we’re gone.” Primrose’s eyes squinted as she began to fade from consciousness.
“Of course, my lady. Get some rest,” Haruka said as she exited the threshold and closed the door behind her.
Chapter Twelve
PrimroseembracedHaruka,holdingher close. She could feel the strength of Haruka’s arms and back as the tall woman squeezed her tight. Haruka’s straight black hair almost suffocated her. Primrose nuzzled the long strands, welcoming the floral scent they exuded. Haruka was her best friend, and goodbyes with her were always the hardest.
“I’ll be back in a day or so,” Primrose promised her.
Primrose’s dress was practical. It consisted of a stark white dyed muslin chemise, light in weight so she wouldn’t overheat. The sleeves billowed out and flowed but stopped at her elbows. Haruka lightly touched the fabric, feeling its texture.
“You look lovely! Please have fun, andpleasefind out what you can about Alina’s family.” Haruka grasped Primrose’s shoulder.
Primrose’s overdress was the color of lilacs, and she adjusted the ties in the front, smiling at Haruka.
“Of course.”
Protego coughed. “We should get going.”
“If she gets hurt, I’ll kill you,” Haruka told Protego, pointing a long finger in his direction.
“If she gets hurt, I’ll kill myself.” Protego pointed two fingers back.
“In that case, Primrose, feel free to trip and fall,” Haruka teased, and they all chuckled.
The three of them all said their last goodbyes, and Primrose and Protego headed down the dirt road towards the trail that led straight to Vero Village. The morning sun shined bright against the feathery green grass that surrounded them. Tall, cone-bearing trees were the only thing in their line of sight for nearly an hour after leaving the manor. Primrose’s riding boots thudded against the ground as she walked.
“You don’t wear shoes a lot, do you?” Protego asked, witnessing her nearly trip on her now untied laces.
“I wear the boots to ride, but that’s really it. I own a few pairs of flats for when guests come, but I haven’t regularly worn shoes since I was a babe, or maybe a young teenager.”
“I’ve spent more years without shoes than with, so I understand that.”
Primrose scrunched her nose. “Do you like the feeling of grass underneath your feet?”
“No, Primrose, I don’t typically have feet.”
She snorted. “So…how do you move around?” She wondered aloud.
“We just kind of…float. I know it sounds incomprehensible, but it’s similar to breathing for us; we just do it. It’s a very natural and automatic process.”
“That’s really something. How do you conjure swords then?”
Protego looked down at their hands, which accidentally brushed against one another, and looked back up at her. “Similarly to how your sorceress made thatcooler. I take an object, perform a ritual, and it becomes enchanted.”
“I learned a magical trick too.” Primrose smiled, pride glinting in her eyes.
