"The flowers are in these barrels," Luciel said, gesturing toward the twelve wooden containers lined neatly across the table.
Elara's eyes darted from one to the next. They all looked identical—aged oak sealed with wax, lids fitted tight—but she could sense something precious inside.
"May I open them?" she asked, her voice tentative. Then, realizing how that sounded, she added quickly, "I'll only look for the flower with wings. I won't touch anything else."
Luciel waved a hand casually. "Go ahead."
With his current strength, he hardly needed to worry about a slender girl causing trouble. And besides, after spending time with her, he'd already guessed what she was—just a frightened, stubborn young woman trying to sound older than she was.
"Thank you," Elara said softly, bowing her head in polite gratitude.
Luciel smiled faintly. "Take your time. I won't help you search—I need to finish moving the rest of the supplies inside."
