A squirrel will raise the tiger cub.
Oh, no. This was bad.
Flustered beyond measure, I flapped my hands in denial, promptly lost my balance, and tipped sideways.
In a flash, the Duke reached out and wrapped his arm around my waist, catching me before I could fall.
No sooner had he pulled me upright than he sprang back, his cheeks inexplicably flushed crimson.
Without casting so much as a glance in my direction, the Duke addressed only his aide.
With that crisp acknowledgment, Gale turned on his heel to find Jane.
Contrary to my fears, the Duke of Blantiger had shown my siblings genuine consideration.
‘He caught me when I stumbled, and now he is even sending treats home with the children.’
Overcome with gratitude, I caught his hand and pressed a fleeting kiss to the back of it.
The Duke froze stiff, as if his gears had ground to a halt, blinked once or twice, and hastily yanked his hand away.
Hokan had been staring fixedly at Jackjack, who had captured his curiosity from the very beginning.
Gasps caught in my throat. I scooped Jackjack up and discreetly clamped a hand over his mouth.
‘Twee’ was our local country drawl.
It was the dialect Father always slipped into at home, and Jackjack would occasionally mimic it.
‘Conceal your dialect, and I will not be held responsible for the consequences.’
Maurice’s stern warning from the first day of evaluations rang in my ears like an alarm.
Whatever the reason behind banning regional speech, if they caught wind of our dialect, I would be dropped from the selection on the spot.
I offered the hasty excuse with a strained laugh.
Though my words were directed at Hokan, my eyes remained glued to the Duke.
My nerves frayed at the thought of him recognizing the regional accent.
Fortunately, the Duke still stood as though dazed, staring blankly down at his own hand suspended in midair.
‘You clueless little brat…’
I glared pointedly at my younger brother Rion, who had an unfortunate habit of blurting out the worst possible things at the worst possible times.
I breathed an internal sigh of relief thanks to Lily’s quick-witted intervention.
Hokan seemed delighted to meet another child who still carried traces of beastly traits.
Nestled in my arms, Jackjack looked up at me and pointed a tiny finger toward Hokan.
It seemed he truly wanted to play with him.
Yet if they conversed for any length of time, our dialect would surely slip out.
Just as I let out a faint, troubled sigh, help came from an unexpected quarter.
Clever Lily had evidently read the distress on my face.
Even when addressing Hokan, who was far younger than she was, she offered a polite, graceful bow.
Right on cue, Jane and Gale returned.
In their hands were neatly packaged boxes of cookies.
Gale raised both hands cheerfully, flashing a warm smile at the children.
With a simple jerk of his chin, Kuhn directed them to deliver the treats.
Jane and Gale handed the boxes to my siblings.
Pure, unmistakable joy blossomed across Lily’s and Rion’s faces.
Unhappy about parting with me, Jackjack pouted sulkily as he took Lily’s hand.
Bless his heart, Jackjack waved farewell to both Hokan and me.
I pressed a parting peck to his forehead and stood watching until the children’s silhouettes vanished into the distance.
Just as I turned to make my way back to the gazebo—
Hokan addressed me with a faint pout on his face.
Hmm? Keep my promise to Jackjack?
I intend to keep my promise to you as well.
Yet, mindful of Maurice’s instructions, I couldn't tell Hokan that I could only go to the North if I passed the test.
While I hesitated, lips parting silently, Hokan slouched his shoulders and trailed after the Duke toward the annex.
***
When I arrived back at the lakeside gazebo, Maurice was already briefing the young ladies on the next mission.
I had made it back in time, thank goodness.
Maurice slipped a pocket watch from his coat.
The moment the words left his mouth, the young ladies sprang to their feet and hurried out into the garden.
I set off at a brisk pace as well.
Scanning every corner of the grounds, the young ladies tilted their heads in bafflement.
The others nodded in agreement at Adele’s reasoning.
Dresses rustling, they scattered through the paths in search of the elusive bloom.
I checked every flowerbed I came across, yet nowhere did I see a bloom that could be called orange.
Then, all at once, my morning stroll came back to me.
‘Could it be…?’
I cast my gaze toward the carpet of yellow flowers spreading across the adjacent flowerbed.
The thirty minutes passed in the blink of an eye, and one by one, the candidates trickled back into the gazebo.
Some returned empty-handed, while others held roses.
One of the ladies clutching a rose mumbled sheepishly.
At Debbie’s remark, everyone’s eyes turned toward my hand.
A snort of laughter escaped one or two of them, while the rest stared in stunned bewilderment, struggling to stifle their chuckles.
For resting in my palm was an unmistakably yellow flower.
Maurice, who had stepped up beside me before I noticed, posed the question.
Maurice pressed once more.
All of a sudden, Maurice burst into laughter.
Taking his reaction as proof that my claim was utterly ridiculous, the other ladies broke into hearty giggles as well.
‘Oh no. Did my eyes deceive me…?’
Flushing as red as an autumn blossom, I hung my head in burning embarrassment.
“Precisely right, Lady Durams. This bloom is known as the Magic Flower. At dusk, its petals curl shut, glowing a vivid orange-red. Once the sun rises, they open wide and shift gradually to yellow.”
The young ladies around me traded their mockery for open admiration, offering warm congratulations.
Maurice looked upon me with genuine approval.
Early morning walks were a long-standing habit of mine.
Only by waking my body through light exercise could I manage to get through every task awaiting me in a day.
For someone who had to juggle tutoring, chores, and raising younger siblings until the moment her head hit the pillow, pacing my stamina was essential.
It was less a routine than a sheer survival tactic.
At Maurice’s word, Jane and the maids stepped forward, handing an elegantly wrapped box to each candidate.
Maurice regarded the candidates with a look of warm satisfaction.
When a gentle, fatherly smile softened the butler’s austere features, bright smiles blossomed across the ladies’ faces as well.
I exchanged brief farewell hugs with the others before stepping into my assigned carriage.
All the way home, I prayed with all my heart that I had passed.
Yet when three days had passed, what arrived at our front door was not a letter.
