Page 5 of Her Cruel Dahlias
“Mmm, if only.” Zephyr chuckled and winked at Cricket when she scowled. “By the way, you did well tonight. Your curiosity finally came.”
“Did well?” she asked, incredulous as they started walking. “I was almost consumed by dahlias that should’ve never come at all.”
“But one was a red rose,” he said seriously. “Not all dahlias.”
Cricket’s brows lifted, hope igniting in her chest. “Truly?”
“A small one, hidden beneath the others, but I saw it, only for a second before it tucked itself back into your chest.”
She blinked and prayed that maybe, just maybe, the dahlias were a fluke, that if she could hone in on her curiosity again, the red roses would answer her call.
A few moments later, they stopped in front of a black and white striped tent and kept quiet as they folded up the curtains from inside. Or mostly quiet since Zephyr whistled a song she hadn’t heard since childhood, one that reminded her of her mother when she used to hum it to Cricket and her brother. They helped several of the strong men, who’d inherited strength as their curiosity, stack the poles so they could easily load them.
Cricket opened her mouth to ask Zephyr what she needed to assist with next when Autumn rushed up to them, her dark hair like silk as it swished around her.
“I’ve been looking all over for you, Zephyr.” Autumn dipped her fingers into the waist of his trousers, pulling him toward her. “You haven’t been to my caravan in a while. How about you ride with me on the way to Nobel?”
Zephyr gently removed Autumn’s hand, then leaned forward and whispered something in her ear, making her giggle. Cricket rolled her eyes, not wanting to listen to whatever their conversation would entail, so she slipped away and weaved between the caravans.
A female cursed softly as a wicker basket collided with the ground, the trinkets spilling across the grass. Cricket spotted bright red curls and hurried to help Juniper scoop the trinkets back into the basket.
“Do you need help with anything else?” Cricket asked as she handed Juniper a brass candlestick holder.
Juniper’s lips parted, her emerald eyes widening in surprise. “You’re wanting to know if I need help?”
“Yes…” Was that such a difficult thing to assume Cricket would ask? She supposed she had been distant from everyone at the carnival, even though she had always yearned to be a part of it. Instead, she’d spent most of her free time hidden in her caravan, begging her curiosity to unleash. Although her prayer tonight had been answered in a way she hoped would never occur again.
What she knew about Juniper was that she was quiet, sweet, and lingered around Zephyr more often than not. It was quite obvious that Juniper was in love with him while Zephyr flirted with anyone with breasts.
“Then I’ll take all the help I can get.” Juniper smiled. She tilted her head to the side and peered around at the ground. “Hmm, I suppose we finished, though.” Before Cricket could turn to walk away, Juniper grabbed her by the arm. “Wait, why don’t you come in for a little while? I saw what happened to you earlier, and I can pour you some of my delicious tea.”
Cricket didn’t want to see the hopeful expression leave Juniper’s face, and to be quite frank, she didn’t want to go home and think of how dahlias had bloomed from her flesh tonight. How they were the same type of flower that had been on her dead body... “I suppose I can.”
Chapter Three
Juniper took a decorative metal art piece of a stag with six legs from the wall and placed it into a box in the corner of her room.
“I like this one,” Cricket said, scooping up a different metal piece with a conjoined butterfly. Purple and black spots painted their ivory bodies.
“I make them in my spare time. Just a simple pastime.” Juniper shrugged, dismissing her creations as nothing special, but Cricket was always attracted to any form of art and could tell these had taken time.
“Well, it’s beautiful. All of them are.” Cricket smiled and rested the conjoined butterfly neatly into the box. As for her belongings, she didn’t need to worry about putting anything away for the short journey to Nobel since she’d never hung anything on her walls. They’d been in Sorel since before Cricket had woken, one of the carnival’s longest visits. Other times their stays might only be a week—Mistress Eliza had told her—depending on the crowds.
“You can have a seat,” Juniper said, plonking down on a knitted quilt, then patting the spot beside her. Cricket hesitated before sitting on the lumpy mattress and leaning against the wall. The room was cozy with a pink and black color pattern, one of the walls checkered in the same hues. The sweet aromas of sugar and pastries lingered, both pleasant and comforting, reminding her of when her mother used to bake pies.
Juniper hopped from the bed and grabbed a porcelain pot from her vanity. “I forgot the tea. It might not be as hot now, but it will do.” She poured them both a cup, then carefully sat back on the mattress and handed Cricket one. Cricket took a slow sip, letting the lovely liquid glide down her throat while savoring the flavors of honey and chamomile.
“It’s good,” Cricket said, tipping the cup back once more.
Juniper polished off her tea before grabbing a leather bag from the floor and setting it between them. “Hungry?” she asked as she drew out a cloth napkin containing a few pieces of dried meat, cookies, and sugary pastries.
“Famished,” Cricket said, inhaling the mixture of delicious scents. Until then, Cricket hadn’t realized how much energy the spell with her curiosity had truly taken from her. Her stomach growled as she peered at the pastries. “Where did you get those?”
“They were gifts that some of the visitors left tonight. They’ve already been inspected. No poison.” Juniper grinned, handing her two pastries with grape jam in their centers.
“Oh? You’re lucky. I would dance all day for pastries if I could.” Cricket bit into the first one, tasting cinnamon mingled with the grape.
“When you perform, you’ll get plenty. Flowers aren’t as lovely as sweets, but they are wonderful too.”