The road to the neighboring town wound between green hills and stretches of farmland. Lucien rode Barnaby at a steady pace, keeping one hand on the bridle while the other rested against the basket of lilies.
By the time the town's rooftops came into view, the sun had climbed higher in the sky.
"Finally. There it is."
Barnaby flicked his ears.
"Don't look so pleased. You're the one who insisted on stopping every few minutes."
The donkey brayed.
"Yes, yes. I'm sure you have a perfectly reasonable explanation."
Lucien guided him down the main road.
The neighboring town was larger than his own, with a stone market square surrounded by shops and workshops. Merchants called out their prices, customers crowded around wooden stalls, and carts carried barrels toward the warehouses near the town gate.
Lucien passed a baker arranging loaves in his window and a blacksmith hammering a piece of iron inside an open workshop.
He glanced at the clock mounted above the market hall.
"Still plenty of time."
He guided Barnaby toward a merchant's shop near the square. Several ceramic pots stood outside the entrance, displayed on wooden shelves.
A stout man wearing a brown waistcoat emerged from the doorway.
"Ah! There you are, young Fluermont."
Lucien climbed down from Barnaby.
"Good morning, Monsieur Delacroix. I apologize if I'm a little later than expected."
The merchant waved his hand.
"You're fine. I haven't been waiting long. Have you brought the lilies?"
"Of course."
Lucien untied the basket and carefully carried it toward the shop entrance.
Monsieur Delacroix lifted the cloth covering the flowers.
"Excellent. Your mother always sends me the freshest stock."
"She takes great care with them."
"I can see that. My customers have been asking for more lilies lately, especially the wealthier households."
He selected one flower and examined its petals.
"Tell your mother I'll need another batch next week."
"I'll let her know."
The merchant reached into his purse and counted several coins into Lucien's hand.
"Here you are. And give your father my regards. Those vases he made for me last month sold rather quickly."
"I'll tell him. Thank you, Monsieur Delacroix."
Lucien slipped the money into his satchel and secured the empty basket to Barnaby's frame.
As he finished adjusting the strap, a voice came from the other side of the shop.
"Excuse me, Monsieur. Could you tell me what these flowers are called?"
Lucien looked up.
A young woman stood beside a display of flowers near the merchant's doorway. A dark, hooded cloak covered her head and shoulders, its fabric falling past her waist. Only a few strands of hair showed beneath the hood, and her face remained partly concealed in its shadow.
Beside her stood a middle-aged man dressed in a finely embroidered coat. His polished shoes and expensive clothing marked him as someone of considerable standing.
The cloaked girl held a small white flower between her fingers, careful not to crush its petals.
"They look like lilies," she said, turning it toward the light. "But the petals are narrower, and the leaves are different. Could they be a variety I've never seen before?"
Monsieur Delacroix leaned forward.
"Well, now, I'm not entirely certain, my lady."
Lucien glanced at the flower.
He recognized it immediately.
"Those aren't lilies."
The words escaped before he could stop himself.
The girl turned toward him.
"Excuse me?"
Lucien straightened.
"I mean, they're not lilies. They're white irises."
He approached the display and pointed toward the flower without touching it.
"Look at the shape of the petals. The outer segments curve downward, while the upright ones stand apart. The leaves are also flatter and more sword-shaped than lily leaves."
The girl lowered her gaze to the flower.
"Oh..."
She turned it carefully between her fingers, examining the details he had mentioned.
"You're right. I didn't notice that."
Lucien rubbed the back of his neck.
"Sorry for interrupting. I just thought you might want to know."
"Why are you apologizing?"
He blinked.
"Well, I interrupted your conversation."
"But you corrected me."
"Yes?"
"So why would you apologize for that?"
Lucien struggled to find an answer.
"I... suppose I wouldn't have to."
The girl gave a quiet laugh.
"Exactly."
The nobleman beside her cleared his throat.
"Elise, we shouldn't keep the merchant occupied. We still have other places to visit."
"Just a moment, please."
She turned back to Lucien.
"How did you know they were irises?"
He glanced at the flower.
"I study them."
"You study flowers?"
"Whenever I can."
Her head tilted slightly beneath the hood.
"Really? What sort of things do you study?"
Lucien hesitated.
Most people asked about his work because they wanted to know how much his family charged for a bouquet. They rarely asked about the flowers themselves.
"Their structure, how they grow, the conditions they need to thrive. I also read about different species whenever I can find a book."
"Different species?"
"Yes. There are so many varieties, and some are difficult to distinguish unless you know what to look for."
The girl looked down at the iris again.
"That's wonderful."
Lucien stared at her.
"Wonderful?"
"Of course! Most people I meet only care about how flowers look in a vase. But you're interested in understanding them."
She leaned closer to the display.
"Could you tell me more about these irises?"
Lucien's lips parted.
For a moment, he wasn't sure what to say.
Then he began explaining.
"The name iris comes from the Greek word for rainbow. The flowers come in several colors, though these white varieties are particularly striking. Some grow in moist soil, while others prefer drier conditions."
Elise listened closely.
"What about their roots?"
"They grow from rhizomes or bulbs, depending on the species. These particular irises grow from rhizomes."
He pointed toward the base of the plant.
"That's one of the details that helps distinguish them from lilies."
Elise crouched slightly to get a better look. Her cloak shifted around her legs, and she gathered the loose fabric with one hand to keep it from brushing against the flowers.
"I never knew there were so many differences."
"There's a lot more to learn."
Lucien's voice grew more animated as he continued.
"The way a flower grows can tell you quite a bit about where it belongs. Some need direct sunlight, while others grow better in partial shade. Even the condition of the soil can make a difference."
He stopped himself.
"...Sorry. I may be talking too much."
Elise shook her head.
"No, please continue!"
Her sudden enthusiasm caught him off guard.
"Are you sure?"
"Absolutely. I want to hear more."
Lucien felt his cheeks warm. He looked down at the flowers, then continued explaining the differences between irises and lilies.
For once, he didn't have to wonder whether the person listening to him was waiting for the conversation to end.
Elise asked question after question, and Lucien answered as best he could. When he didn't know something, he admitted it rather than pretending otherwise.
Eventually, the nobleman beside her checked his pocket watch.
"Elise, we really must be going."
She looked up.
"Already?"
"We have an appointment before noon."
Elise's shoulders lowered. She turned toward Lucien again.
"Thank you for explaining everything. I've never met anyone who could talk about flowers for so long without getting bored."
Lucien smiled awkwardly.
"I could probably talk about them all day."
"I believe you."
She hesitated, then asked, "What's your name?"
"Lucien. Lucien Fluermont."
"Lucien Fluermont..."
She repeated his name quietly, committing it to memory.
"I'm Elise."
He inclined his head.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Elise."
She opened her mouth as though she wanted to ask him something else.
But the nobleman had already begun walking toward the carriage waiting near the market square.
"Elise."
"Coming!"
She looked back at Lucien.
"I hope we meet again."
Lucien gave a polite nod.
"I hope so, too."
Elise hurried after the nobleman, her cloak swaying around her ankles. Before reaching the carriage, she glanced over her shoulder once more.
Lucien raised a hand in farewell.
She quickly faced forward and disappeared behind the carriage door.
Lucien watched her leave, his hand resting on Barnaby's bridle.
"Well..."
He looked toward the flowers displayed outside the shop.
"That was unexpected."
Barnaby nudged his shoulder.
Lucien turned.
"What?"
The donkey nudged him again, this time toward the road.
"Oh, right. We should head home."
He climbed onto Barnaby's back and guided him away from the merchant's shop.
As the market square receded behind him, Lucien reached into his satchel and checked the payment.
His family would be pleased with the sale. His mother could purchase the seeds she needed, and his father would have money for more clay.
Everything had gone according to plan.
And yet, as Barnaby carried him toward the town gate, Lucien found himself thinking about the girl who had asked so many questions.
Elise.
She had listened to every word he said. She hadn't laughed at his enthusiasm or tried to change the subject.
She had wanted to know more.
Lucien adjusted his grip on the bridle.
"I wonder if she studies flowers, too."
Barnaby continued along the road.
Lucien glanced back at the town one last time before facing forward.
He had come to make a delivery.
He hadn't expected to meet someone who shared his love of flowers.
And he certainly hadn't expected to wish their conversation had lasted a little longer.