Disclaimer: Terrier and all of its characters belong to Tamora Pierce.
It was a mystery.
At first, it was a single daisy, so simple and beautiful, carefully balanced and left there between the doorknob and the doorjamb.
Then, it was a small bouquet of daffodils, the bright yellow of their blossoms standing out against the dullness of the door.
Then, it was two roses, a full, dark red, lying on her doormat.
And now, it was an exquisite tiger lily in full bloom, from Carthak or the Copper Isles, perhaps. Yellow lines branched out from the center in perfect symmetry, the red blushing with the deep orange of the petals. Nobody knew that Beka's favorite flower was the tiger lily, except Ersken, and Beka was quite sure that Ersken wouldn't go to this much effort to lay flowers against her door every morning before Beka awoke.
Plus, Ersken was kept busy buying flowers for Kora, anyways.
But, as Beka filled a small mug with water from the tap and gently placed the tiger lily into it, she couldn't help but wonder whom this mysterious flower benefactor was. Beka knew that tiger lilies were expensive. She had never been able to afford a bouquet of the beautiful flowers, much less buy a single tiger lily just to admire.
When Beka had moved into the Lord Provost's house, she had spent many an afternoon in the Marketplace, usually by the flower stand. The old flower seller had trusted Beka enough to let the odd girl with the light grey eyes stare in wonder at his tiger lilies that only nobility stopped by to buy.
Beka had told herself, when she was just a little girl, every day when she walked back to the Lord Provost's house when the flower seller started to close up, that one day when she got older, she would buy a bouquet of tiger lilies and admire them as much as she wanted to.
Beka had never gotten around to that promise.
Beka's mother, Ilony, had been a master herbalist as well as an expert on floriography. For as long as Beka could remember, her mother had always whispered to her what flowers symbolized. Beka had found the subject fascinating, and had always listened in rapt attention to her mother.
But now, upon receiving the flowers, although there was no note, Beka could easily read what each flower meant.
Innocence. Unrequited love. Passion. Pride.
It must be someone who knew her well enough to know that Beka inherited the art of floriography from her mother. And only so many knew that…
The next day, it was a gardenia, full petal unfolding in a brilliant white display.
I secretly love you.
After that, it was a solid red tulip and a yellow one, their stems crossed painstakingly perfect.
Believe in me. I hopelessly love you.
The following morning, a branch of delicate pink orchid blossoms appeared, from the Yamani Islands, the petals perfect and round.
Pure affection.
And then, on the last day, there was a pure white calla lily, as soft as silk, the long stem winding under the crack beneath Beka's door.
Beauty.
The next morning, no flower awaited Beka.
Beka sighed, and sat down at her modest kitchen table with a cup of tea. She didn't really expect for the flowers to continue coming, she told herself.
Yet, her heart still wished for another flower to brighten her morning.
As Beka drank her lukewarm tea, she continued thinking about who could make the effort to pick the flowers out so accordingly.
All of the flowers that had been left for Beka were lined up in simple cups on various windowsills, a simple spell cast by Kora that prevented the flowers from wilting.
Abandoning her tea, Beka caressed the petals of the tiger lily again, the flower as radiant as it had been when Beka had first picked it up.
Pride.
Beka was proud to be a Puppy, training to be a Dog.
Beka was proud to serve the Lord Provost in her service in the Dogs.
Beka was proud to learn under Tunstall and Goodwin, and show them her abilities.
"Mama," Beka had asked, tugging on her mother's sleeve as they passed Beka's favorite flower seller. "What does the tiger lily mean?"
Her mother's eyes had softened slightly. "Pride," she whispered. "The tiger lily means pride, Beka."
And when Beka adopted the tiger lily as her favorite flower, Beka did so with good reason, not only because the tiger lily was pretty.
Beka had grown to be proud of her decision to join the Dogs when she got older, even though her lady looked down at her with disgust while her sisters, still young, repeatedly asked why she would want to be such a vulgar thing as a Dog when she could be a dainty lady's maid?
She could have served nobility, and perhaps earned enough money to buy tiger lilies, which she had dreamed about for so long.
A phrase Rosto often used came to Beka's mind, Rosto's face popping up in her mind.
"We're not nobility, Beka," he had said, his crooked grin and soft blue eyes staring into Beka's light grey ones. They had been standing on the side of the road the first time he had said it, on one of Beka's free days off from being a Puppy.
"But we can act like nobility as much as we want," he had added after a few seconds, taking Beka's hand and leading her down an alley, where he had then proceeded to buy her a sweet apple tart.
Rosto…could it be Rosto who had been sending Beka the flowers?
But then again, why would Rosto be sending Beka flowers? While it was true that whenever Rosto's fingertips brushed against Beka's, or whenever Rosto smiled that crooked smile of his, that smile that you could never tell was good or bad, it made Beka's mind suddenly go hazy, and Beka felt like she was floating, her head spinning in that way that made Beka sure that it shouldn't be spinning like that.
Rosto was her friend. Rosto was just Rosto, witty, funny, dramatic Rosto. Rosto, the King of Thieves and the Rogue.
A sudden knock at the door interrupted Beka from her thoughts. Squinting out of the window, she saw that the day was still new, and none of her friends should be up yet.
And, if it was Ersken with a Dog emergency, she was sure he would be pounding and yelling on her door.
But it was a knock. Three precise raps against her door, the sharp sound soon dissipating into the air.
With a resigned sigh, Beka went over to the door, and swinging it open, saw Rosto leaning against the side of the door.
"What a surprise," Beka remarked after a pause, losing the battle of trying to keep the smile from creeping to her face. "The Rogue makes a surprise visit."
Rosto's eyes, usually so light and carefree, were serious and focused, appearing darker than they usually were.
Rosto said nothing; he merely withdrew from behind his back a simple white violet.
White violet…let's take a chance.
Beka's voice caught in her throat. "I-it was you, who sent all of those flowers?"
Rosto nodded, the white violet still in his hand. Now, he offered it to Beka.
"Beka, let's take a chance…together."
Beka fought the tears that threatened to spill over, as she gently plucked the violet from his fingers.
It was only Rosto. It should mean nothing, right?
But no. It was only Rosto, yet it meant everything.
Rosto had started babbling, the only time Beka had ever seen him nervous.
Beka silenced Rosto, by flinging herself at him, his arms automatically encircling her.
"I'll take the chance," she said simply.
She felt Rosto's lips hover over her forehead, she felt him smile, tightening his grip on her.
And then, with one long finger, he tilted her head up to meet his blue eyes, the blue eyes that Beka had puzzled over for so many hours, trying to figure out why they were so impossibly blue.
When he kissed her, his lips were so soft, so similar to that first kiss. However, Beka gladly welcomed him, her fingers threading through his fine hair, pressing his lips against hers.
Yes, Beka was sure that this time she wouldn't punch him for kissing her.
The simple white violet fell from Beka's grasp to careen through the air, falling lightly onto the floor.
-fin-
A/N: Floriography the language of flowers...I've always wanted to write a fic that dealt with floriography because I find it so interesting! Well, I hope everybody enjoyed this, and the tiger lilies! Reviews are greatly accepted :D
