What is the matter?

Daniella's pov

Flora's unexpected entrance into my room disrupts my concentration, pulling me away from the task at hand. As she settles onto the edge of my bed with uncharacteristic exuberance, I can't help but feel a sense of unease. Something is amiss.

"What's so good about the morning?" I inquire, my voice tinged with concern as I continue to jot down potion ingredients on the scroll before me. It's unlike Flora to barge into my room in such a manner, especially in the midst of the preparations for her imminent departure.

"I'm not allowed to greet my sister?" she retorts playfully, but her facade quickly crumbles as she moves to embrace me from behind, her grip surprisingly tight.

Caught off guard by her sudden display of emotion, I instinctively halt my writing, turning to face her with a mixture of confusion and concern. "What's the matter, Flora?" I inquire softly, reaching out to gently squeeze her hand.

Though she remains silent, her warm tears dampen my neck, her body trembling with suppressed emotion. Without hesitation, I guide her to the bed, wrapping her in a comforting embrace as I ring for one of my handmaidens.

"Please, fetch a jug of drinking water," I request, my voice steady despite the turmoil swirling within me. As the handmaiden swiftly exits the room to fulfill my request, I turn my attention back to Flora, holding her close as her tears continue to fall.

As Flora's sobs gradually subside into gentle sniffles, I find myself enveloped in a cloud of concern, my own heart heavy with the weight of her distress. With every stroke of her hair, every soothing word I utter, I offer her the solace of my presence, hoping to provide some semblance of comfort amidst the storm of her emotions.

Handing her the jug of water, I watch as she takes small, hesitant sips, her trembling hands betraying the depth of her turmoil. The cool liquid offers a fleeting reprieve, its touch a balm against the rawness of her grief.

"Flora, please tell me what's troubling you," I implore softly, my voice a gentle murmur in the stillness of the room. Though our relationship has not always been as close as I would have liked, she is still my sister, and her pain cuts me deeply.

With a shuddering breath, Flora finally finds the courage to speak, her words faltering as they tumble forth. "It's... it's Maxim," she confesses, her voice barely above a whisper. "I can't marry him."

My heart clenches at her admission, a surge of empathy flooding through me as I listen to her confession. "Is he not what you wanted?" I ask gently, my eyes searching her face for any hint of clarity amidst the storm of her emotions.

"It's not that," she insists, her gaze fixed on the floor as if unable to meet my eyes. "He's a good man, a gentleman, in fact. But I can't shake this feeling that I'm making a mistake."

As Flora's tears continue to flow, I offer what little comfort I can, my heart aching at the sight of her anguish. "I can't advise in that area," I admit with a sigh, feeling utterly inadequate in the face of her distress. "Perhaps you should speak to one of our sisters. But considering the dowry has been paid, calling off the engagement will be difficult."

She collapses onto the pillow, her cries echoing in the silence of the room. "You... you think I don't know," she whispers, her voice barely audible amidst the torrent of her tears.

I lay down beside her, a silent gesture of solidarity, offering her the solace of my presence. "You know, I wouldn't mind accompanying you to Cai," I offer tentatively, hoping to lighten the heaviness of the moment. "It's better than traveling with just the royal advisor and those boring maids."

Flora turns to face me, her tear-streaked cheeks glistening in the dim light. For a moment, a flicker of hope dances in her eyes. "You're just having cold feet," I continue, my voice gentle but firm. "You and Maxim love each other. I'll stay with you until you're settled in."

"Really?" she breathes, her expression softening as she rolls over to embrace me in a tight hug. "You're the best sister in the world."

I can't help but chuckle at her words, a bittersweet smile tugging at the corners of my lips. "Stop lying to me," I tease gently, though my heart swells with affection at her display of gratitude.

"Just take the compliment," she insists, her voice muffled against my shoulder as we cling to each other in the quiet sanctuary of my chamber. And in that moment, despite the uncertainty that looms on the horizon, I find solace in the bond that unites us as sisters.

"Let me get the maids packing for you," Flora says, rising from the bed with newfound determination. "We depart tomorrow at the break of dawn."

I nod in agreement, grateful for her decisive action amidst the uncertainty of the moment. The journey to Cai promises to be long and arduous, with multiple towns and kingdoms to traverse before reaching our destination. If all goes according to plan, we should arrive within three days, though the prospect of teleportation would certainly have been a welcome convenience if not for the barriers imposed by these cities.

Nevertheless, I take comfort in the knowledge that our retinue is well-prepared for the journey ahead. Our teams have been meticulously organized, and provisions have been carefully packed to ensure our comfort during the trip. Though the prospect of travel may seem daunting, I am reassured by Flora's steadfast resolve and the unwavering support of our companions.

As Flora busies herself with the task of packing, I take a moment to reflect on the challenges that lie ahead. Though uncertainty may cloud the path before us, I am determined to stand by my sister's side, offering whatever support and guidance she may need as we embark on this journey together. And with the first light of dawn, we will set forth into the unknown, bound by the unbreakable bonds of sisterhood and the promise of a brighter tomorrow.

***

As the sun rises on the morning of our departure, we find ourselves delayed by yet another display of my brother's excessive generosity. Though yesterday's dinner should have sufficed, Akim insists on sending us off with a feast, accompanied by a thoughtful gift of wild rabbit meat to sustain us on our journey. I can't help but appreciate the gesture, despite my impatience to begin our travels.

Finally, after a long morning of preparations and farewells, we are able to set out on our journey. As we gather by the carriages, Akim pulls me aside, his expression serious as he imparts his words of advice.

"You know, when you're among affluent people, try to interact," he advises, his tone tinged with concern. I understand the implication behind his words all too well—I am the second oldest, with no suitors in sight. It's a topic that weighs heavily on my mind, one that I cannot easily dismiss.

"I'll see what I can do," I reply, offering him a faint smile before bidding him farewell. It's a relief that it's Akim giving me this talk, rather than our father. If it were him, we would likely be engaged in a heated argument rather than having a civil conversation.

With a final glance back at the imposing facade of our home, I feel a pang of uncertainty wash over me. How long will I be gone? What adventures and challenges await me on this journey? I clutch a few of my favorite books to my chest, resolved to document my thoughts and observations along the way.

As I step into the carriage, the rhythmic clatter of hooves signaling our departure, I can't help but wonder what the future holds. But for now, all I can do is embrace the unknown and trust in the strength of my resolve to see me through.

As I settle into the soft velvet seats of the carriage, I can't help but revel in the comfort they provide, even if I know that prolonged seating will inevitably lead to some discomfort. With a sigh, I glance over at Flora, who sits beside me, her gaze fixed pensively on the passing scenery outside the carriage window. Despite the anticipation of our journey ahead, there's a hint of sadness in her expression, a reflection perhaps of the weight of her impending marriage.

Today, Flora wears a beautiful white veil, a delicate accessory meant to shield her braids from the rigors of travel. Paired with her light horseback riding attire, affectionately referred to as "fleeing clothes" by our sisters, it's a practical choice born from years of childhood escapades in the woods. The nickname stems from those carefree days when we would race through the forest, quickly learning that trousers and boots were far more conducive to freedom of movement than the restrictive confines of formal attire.

As the carriages roll to a stop at the edge of our land, I feel a pang of melancholy wash over me. The sound of trumpets heralds our departure, a poignant reminder of the significance of this moment. Flora, sitting beside me, meets my gaze with a bittersweet smile before turning her attention back to the window, her expression a mixture of anticipation and apprehension.

I watch silently as she takes in the familiar landscape one last time, her gaze lingering on the rolling hills and verdant meadows that have been our home for so long. There's a sense of finality in the air, a realization that this journey marks the beginning of a new chapter in her life—one that will take her far from the comforts of home and into the unknown.

As the trumpets fade into the distance and the carriages lurch forward once more, I reach out to grasp Flora's hand in mine, offering her what little comfort I can in the face of uncertainty. Though the road ahead may be fraught with challenges, I know that she possesses the strength and resilience to navigate it with grace and determination.

As the hours pass in silence, I find solace in the pages of my novel, immersing myself in its world of adventure and intrigue. Beside me, Flora has succumbed to the gentle sway of the carriage, her breathing slow and steady as she drifts into a peaceful slumber.

Despite the comforting distraction of my book, my thoughts inevitably drift back to the journey ahead. How long will it be before we reach our destination? The uncertainty weighs heavily on my mind, casting a shadow over the otherwise tranquil atmosphere of the carriage.

With each passing mile, the landscape outside the window transforms, the familiar sights of home gradually giving way to new and unfamiliar terrain.