Well Met(74)

“What’s this?” Stacey picked it up and twirled it by the stem. I recognized the rose—we all did. There was a vendor at the front of the grounds near the main gate. She sold flowers, mostly roses, as “favors.” They could be given to knights before they charged into battle in the joust, or to your favorite fighter at the human chess match. (Mitch had been given his fair share of roses. Obviously.) Or they could be handed to your sweetheart as you strolled the Faire.

Janet shrugged as she adjusted her ponytail under her baseball cap. “It was here when I got here.” She tucked her red volunteer shirt more securely into her shorts, and her smile rivaled Mona Lisa’s. “There’s a tag on it, though.”

“Oh, I see it.” Stacey caught the slip of paper between her fingers, and her smile became a grin. “Em-ma! It’s for you!” She said my name in a singsong voice and dangled the long-stemmed rose at me until I snatched it from her. Sure enough, my name was on the tag. The handwriting was unfamiliar, but when I turned the tag over my heart skidded in my chest.

Let the wooing commence.

“That’s from . . .” Stacey closed her mouth with a snap as I looked at her with rounded eyes, but I couldn’t stop her grin. “I know who that’s from!” The singsong hadn’t left her voice. I should have been annoyed, but instead her grin was infectious. I tucked the rose behind my ear, threading the stem through my hair so the bloom nestled above my left ear. Red roses were kind of cliché, but they were cliché for a reason. Red was the color of love. Of passion. Of the heart. The heady fragrance of the flower enveloped me as I started my day, and it certainly ensured that Simon—or was it Captain Blackthorne now?—stayed in my thoughts. As wooing went, it was pretty effective. I couldn’t wait to thank him.

I had no idea that was just the beginning.

Less than an hour after the front gate opened, a family came into the tavern. The couple were probably in their midthirties, along with a small girl dressed as a princess. We got a lot of patrons like that. Parents who wanted a drink but couldn’t exactly leave their kid to wander around alone outside. It’s not like we were a real bar, just a tent out in the woods. Hard to enforce an age policy at the door that way.

Stacey served the parents while I swept off the stray leaves that had accumulated on the tables overnight. I was almost finished when I realized the little girl had come closer and was now gazing up at me with big blue eyes.

“Good morrow, Your Highness.” I gave her a low curtsy befitting her princess dress. She was adorable, all pink dress and blond ringlets. She couldn’t have been more than six. “I hope you are enjoying the day. And may I say, that’s a beautiful rose. I have one just like it, see?” I crouched down to show her the rose in my hair, since she was indeed holding a long-stemmed red rose from the flower seller at the front gate.

She reached up a small hand, and I ducked my head a little so she could touch the flower in my hair. She patted it gently, then examined the rose in her hand carefully. “Are you Emma?”

I froze. How did she . . . “Yes.” I cleared my throat. “Yes, I . . . I am Emma.”

She looked back at her parents, who were close enough to hear our conversation, and they nodded at her encouragingly. The little girl then extended the rose to me. “It’s for you.”

“Oh. No. No, thank you, milady.” The last thing I wanted to do was take this little girl’s flower. Kids were capricious. If I took it now, in five minutes she might be screaming for it again, and I didn’t want to give the parents a headache like that. “I have one already, see? You should keep yours.”

She shook her head, little blond ringlets dancing, and extended the rose to me more emphatically. “It’s for you,” she said again. “The pirate said so.”

My jaw dropped, and for a moment I forgot how to speak. “The . . . pirate? What pirate?” What a stupid question.

“The pirate,” she said, a little exasperated, as though repeating it would explain everything. “He said find Emma and give it to her. He told Mommy where to find you, but it was easy. He said you were a pretty girl with curly brown hair and a blue dress.”

“Did he?” I pictured Simon, kneeling in front of this little girl, giving her a rose and asking her to be a delivery person, and my heart swelled. I looked from her to her parents, smiling in our direction, and back to the little princess again. “Well, I thank you.” My hand shook only a little as I took the rose from her tiny fingers. “You did a wonderful job of finding me. I will be sure to tell him so when I see him.” I touched the flower to the tip of my nose, automatically sniffing it even though I was already wearing one. Now I had two. As I stood up and bid the petite princess farewell I tucked it into the knot at the back of my neck and moved the first one back there to match it.

The third rose came from two giggling young women wearing corset tops and short skirts. They ordered what was probably their third round of hard ciders of the morning before presenting me with the long-stemmed red rose. The back of my head started to get pretty crowded, and when roses four and five arrived before midday, Stacey plucked the first three out of my hair and started fashioning a flower crown for me. By the time I had seven roses, the flower crown was pretty lush, not to mention heavy.

“Once you get a couple more it’ll look perfect.” She looked giddy at the prospect, and I turned to her in alarm.