Trading Tales, Unveiling Truths

Moonlight, the sleek black horse, learnt to trot toward Bloom's garden anytime she heard a piercing, crisp whistle during the course of the following week. The lovely horse would occasionally show up unexpectedly, her black eyes sparkling with anticipation for a reward or a soft pat. Bloom never let her down, smiling quietly as he offered both.

Julian also paid her many visits, sitting next to her to talk. He once offered to help her pull weeds from the garden, but Bloom flinched at the idea, her face a mixture of laughter and terror. Nevertheless, she was moved by his generosity. Her feelings for the young nobility grew stronger every day; she was aware that this was a risky move. Nobility were untrustworthy, particularly those who concealed their kindness. In exchange, they always demanded something.

But even she acknowledged that his assistance had changed things. No one in the community stopped her when she made her first attempt to see Grandmama. Everywhere she looked, she was met with hostile glares, their hostility so evident that she almost fled. But with defiance guiding her feet, Bloom raised her chin and strode past the gathering.

Gail revealed a shocking fact later that week. Mayor Jonah Pickett, who called for action against the alleged "witch," had been given an audience by Lord Hartfield. To the surprise of all, the Lord not only declined but also gave the community the command to leave Bloom alone. Gail's wide-eyed awe reflected Bloom's own subdued surprise.

Bloom considered it. Even without her, Julian had defended her. It didn't feel deceptive. He appeared completely reliable.

Drake Clearbrook had, however.

Another girl was discovered dead at the end of the week. Bloom's stomach knotted at the news, making him consider packing up and running away again.

She thought about telling Julian about her concerns regarding the killings, but she had already revealed too much about herself to him. Unbidden, she blurted out the names of Nolan and Darren, and once she began, she wouldn't stop. She didn't intend to reveal that much. So she didn't say anything.

They sat by the pond once more a week after that accidental admission. Julian opened up this time, revealing tidbits of his own past.

She saw that he had meticulously edited his stories, excluding graphic details of the conflict. He talked in place of the hopelessness that tore at a soldier's heart, the never-ending fear that you, your friend, or your friend's friend would be the next to die.

Bloom was all too familiar with that.

She initially thought he was attempting to outdo her, as any noble would, to show that his problems were more significant than hers. She discovered, however, that he wasn't competing as his stories progressed. Maybe he didn't even realize he was exchanging stories for hers.

She was particularly affected by one story, which recalled a young man named Gideon.

Julian recalled, in a gentle tone, "He was the only one who'd talk to me." The others remained silent until I spoke to them, displaying the usual commoner disinterest in nobility. However, Gideon and I shared stories of our pre-war lives while playing cards at night.

He was a farmer who had two young daughters and a wife. You could hear how much dad loved and missed those darling children.

Then a rescue operation took place. "Easy," they said. Our cavalry forces were stuck and in need of assistance. We believed it to be low risk.

Instead, an ambush struck us. A total of sixteen guys fell. One of these was Gideon. I had witnessed death before, Bloom—my father was among the individuals who dropped by me every day. But none were near me until Gideon. My father and I weren't even that close. The most difficult thing I've ever had to do was tell Gideon's family.

Bloom gave a slow nod. "I understand. You won't find pity here, though, if that's your goal. Perhaps empathy, but not sympathy.

Julian let out a short breath, his lips twitching with frustration. "I'm not."

With a hint of a smirk, she taunted, "Good." "If you were, I might have had to kill you."

Her smile grew, and he rolled his eyes and snorted. "You've completely destroyed the atmosphere," he complained.

That dark, gloomy mist you were spinning—what? Do you believe I should have more of that in my life?

He disregarded her scathing reply.

The Sunday tea hosted by Lady Denara approached. The following day, Julian would be "fed to the wolves," as he put it. Bloom briefly considered going because those gardens seemed beautiful, but she instantly reprimanded herself. She had been damaged by accepting such invites in the past. She wouldn't take the chance once more.

Strangely, Julian didn't mention it once over the week. Given that his mother wanted her there, she had anticipated that he would prod her. The nobles never stopped pushing their objectives. However, he said nothing. "Why aren't you ordering me to your mother's tea tomorrow?" she finally inquired, her curiosity getting the better of her.

He gave him a forehead slap. "I overlooked it. Wonderful. I am now forced to deal with the charming Baroness Amelia Barkwell and her cunning daughter Clarissa Bartlett by myself.

She eased back into the grass and remarked, "So if you'd remembered, you would've pushed me."

"You seem relieved."

She grinned languidly. I am, in a sense. That is more appropriate than you not forcing me. keeps me from giving it too much thought.

He became silent for a while. "If you don't want to go, I won't force you to," he added quietly.

Bloom leaped to his feet. "Oh, just when I thought I had you figured out, you've spoiled everything. Why not?

"I have good reasons why I will never again visit Barkwell's manor. I won't take you to a spot where terrible memories are mixed together.

Her eyes were wide as she gazed at him. His emerald eyes, full of sincerity, were focused on the sky as he laid on his back. She shook herself after nearly believing him.

She was ordinary. He was a good man. He used his friendship as a ruse to further his own agenda. She should keep that in mind.

However, it was quite difficult.

She visualized the tea. Everyone was strangers, and they immediately hated her for who she was. But the charm of those gardens drew her in.

No, she firmly told herself.

"Your lovely lady-mother better get ready for some repotting if I go," she exclaimed, "because I'd be uprooting half her plants." The picture made her smile. "Just a heads up for when you invite me again. Maybe I will say yes.

Julian whispered, "I'll trust you to make it a metaphor about plants."

Bloom smiled. Naturally. How could your mother possibly know anything about me? She wants me there, but why? Flowers grew from strewn seeds around the lake. She started weaving a crown out of a few golden blooms that she had picked.

Aside from your prowess with plants? Not very much. Her admiration for your gardening skills would be limited to admiration. You would be ignored or harassed by the other women.

"Just as I expected. "Oh, they wouldn't ignore me," she exclaimed, her mischievous purple eyes gleaming. "I'd demonstrate to them what a 'commoner' is capable of." She completed the crown, placed it on top of her head, and woven white flowers into twin pigtails that resembled the one she had previously given Julian. It was a powerful, subtle, and startling result.

Her loose green skirt flared as she stood up and turned around. Her voice lilted as she sang, "I am the Queen of the Forest." "If you disobey me, my roses will swiftly and sharply bring you to ruin! They'll— Julian burst out laughing, tears running down his cheeks, and she faltered. His happiness was contagious, and she joined in, laughing uncontrollably.

"You finally sound like a noble," he said. Bloom laughed more when he realized the irony.

She wiped her eyes and froze when the laughter stopped. It was the most fun she had had in over a year.

The insight hit her like a blast of cold water. She was smiling with a noble, but why? She was carefree with one of the nobles who had killed her husband, her child, and her best friend.

She had a horrible feeling.

Because of individuals like him, her family—the ones she had loved the most—were buried.

"No," a tiny voice murmured. Not like him.

She pushed it away.

Julian noticed her abrupt silence. He sat up and murmured softly, "Bloom." "Don't feel bad about enjoying yourself while your loved ones are away."

She responded, her voice quivering with a frantic edge, "It's not that." "I'm letting them down." She told him, but why? "I'm having fun with a nobleman. Why was she unable to stop? "My family was killed by nobles!" Pain was the only possible outcome.

"No, Bloom." Her panicked gaze was pierced by Julian's steady, grave green eyes. One aristocrat did. One sick, vicious wretch.

When she looked into his face, she saw unadulterated honesty imprinted there. At risk. It's true.

And she took him at his word. She finally came to terms with what he had been demonstrating to her. She would finally be broken by her trust in him, her belief that he was a good friend. However, she had faith.

She collapsed to the ground, tears streaming down her face as the weight of that capitulation struck her.

Julian put a steady, warm touch on her shoulder. A brief echo of Nolan's hug, a sanctuary she had lost, was evoked.

She would put her faith in this nobleman. She had faith in him. But in her heart, she knew that one day he would ask her for something, and that betrayal would break her heart. It was unavoidable.

She sniffled and said into the grass, "I—I can't go to the tea." Why did she cry every time she had a serious conversation with him?

Calm as ever, he said, "That's fine."

A new round of weeping was triggered by his refusal to press her.

She had revealed everything, exposing her soul for him to sort through and utilize whatever he saw fit. He hadn't turned it against her, though. As if it were a kitten, he had held her delicate heart in his arms.

She desired to despise him. to simplify her universe and group him in with all the nobles. He was too damned nice, though.

"Why can't you just be mean and petty?" she gasped out.

The smile in his words reached her ears. "Because I would hate to hear what you think or say about me, my dear."

Her tears finally stopped, and she let forth a tremulous laugh. I apologize. You've confused me. Before you stormed in and destroyed everything, I had all the nobility tied up in a tidy little box, complete with ribbon. She smiled a little and softened her comments.

He drew her into a quick embrace. "Don't be alarmed," he added casually. "I'm still capable of being cocky and conceited. I'm still not soft. However, I'm sure your box would quickly regain its shape if you went to that tea.