Most residents of Zaofu adored her mother's meteorite garden—the oblong hunks of space rock on display, ready to be molded into marvels by any metalbender with enough skill and imagination—but Opal had always preferred the flowerbeds. Since she was a child, she loved to lie among the fire lilies and dream daisies, watching the warm breeze send petals of plum blossoms scattering across the grounds. She had always found it soothing to watch the natural world do what it was meant to, as she wondered what her own purpose would be.
"I thought I'd find you here." When Opal shifted her gaze from the trees and the wind and their quiet work, her mother was standing above her, wearing an amused expression. "One day I'll come out and find you've turned into a dream daisy or a garden spirit."
Opal shook her head a little, but still accepted the hand her mother extended to her, and the single gold and ivory bloom she placed behind her ear. "Mom, aren't you supposed to be in rehearsal?"
When she was in the planning stages of a new performance, it was rare for her to emerge from the dance studio before dinner. "We ended early today," she said. "I thought we could have lunch together in the pavilion. It feels like it's been weeks since we've done anything, just the two of us."
In actuality, it had been over three months. Time often got away from her mother. But instead of correcting her, Opal smiled gently. "I'd like that," she said, and they started walking together. "How's the dance going?"
"Oh, it's been wonderful! One of your brother's new sculptures inspired it, actually. You know the one that looks like a bud?"
Opal laughed a bit at this. "Huan said it was supposed to be a lionturtle."
"Oh, was it?" Her mother blinked a few times in surprise, and then waved the matter off. "At any rate, when I saw it, I was just moved to choreograph a tribute to spring. I'm putting Luli and Kuvira in the lead roles this time. They're both so graceful on the cables."
Opal did all she could to suppress the urge to roll her eyes. Her mother could hardly go five minutes without singing the praises of her metalbending protege, who seemed to have magically appeared on their doorstep as soon as she accepted the fact that Junior, Huan, and Opal herself would all make poor successors. She wondered—more often than it was kind to admit—whether Kuvira would be in their lives at all if Wing and Wei had been the oldest.
Instead of replying with something petty, she simply stepped inside the platinum-topped pavilion and trusted that her mother would fill the silence. She always did. The serving staff appeared with kale wraps and vegetable dumplings as soon as they sat down.
"So what have you been up to lately?" her mother asked, as though she didn't have Aiwei keep tabs on Opal and all of her siblings.
"Mostly reading," she replied. "The papers say the United Republic might send its military to intervene in the Water Tribes' civil war. If other nations become involved in the conflict—"
Her mother waved the comment off. "There's no need to be frightened by ugly matters like that, sweetheart." She reached for Opal's hand across the table. "You'll always be safe here in Zaofu."
She was about to open her mouth to explain that she wasn't afraid—just concerned about the state of world affairs, as any informed citizen should be—when Aiwei emerged at her mother's side out of nowhere.
"My apologies for interrupting, Miss Opal." He offered her a formal smile, and then leaned down to whisper something in her mother's ear.
Whatever he said set off a transformation. In an instant, her mother's posture and expression were plated in steel, and she stepped seamlessly into the cold armor of the metal clan matriarch.
"Alert the Parks and the Tans immediately; they're stakeholders. Tell them we'll meet in my study in thirty minutes," she told him, already rising from her chair.
"Of course, Suyin," Aiwei replied, his eyes low in deference.
"And have Kuvira meet me in ten. I need to brief her before the others arrive."
"Naturally," the man said. "I will inform the captain at once." He bowed elegantly and then disappeared as though swallowed by the earth itself.
"I'm so sorry, sweetheart," her mother said as she gestured for the staff to clear her plates. "Would you hate me if we had to cut this short?"
"Of course not," Opal replied, out of habit if not anything else. "Is everything okay?" She supposed the question was out of habit as well. She couldn't remember the last time they had actually discussed something serious.
"Everything's fine, dear. Queen Hou Ting just seems to have made a very poor choice." She leaned down and kissed the top of Opal's head. "Nothing for you to worry your head over."
"The queen? Is this about the mines—"
"Will you press some flowers for me later?" She asked the question in a voice like a wall of iron shooting up between them. "I've always loved the way you do the fire lilies."
"Of course, mom," Opal said, hands folded behind her back so her mother wouldn't see the fingernails piercing half-moons into her palms.
"My sweet moon flower child." Her mother pressed a hand against Opal's cheek. "I love you."
"I love you too," she replied, playing the role she had been given—becoming the innocent, obedient nonbending daughter once again. More often than not, it was pointless trying to be anything else. "See you at dinner.