Una missed her mother most at night when she couldn’t sleep. During those times, she would turn to her collection of scents to help her. She kept bottles and jars filled with flower buds, essential oils, resins. Anything that carried a strong scent. But there were times when not even her collection could soothe her into slumber, so Una took to wandering the halls and the courtyards. At night with no one around, she could almost smell her mother’s archangels. Almost.
Una often visited the older topiaries in her garden, the dragons flanking the gates and the sea monster in the rear. They were like old friends because they had been there for as long as she could remember. She would think about riding a dragon up, out, and away from the Official Residence, away from her stepmother, away from her father, away from the brother she didn’t know. She thought about riding the sea monster through the waves to a place where the salty sea air could settle into her soul, and she could search for something to remind her of the scent of her mother. But such rides to freedom were only a fancy in her mind that left her feeling empty.
One night while walking around the courtyard and wishing for something beyond the walls of the Official Residence, Una stood at the garden window, an opening in the wall framed and divided by twists of wrought iron. Una clutched the metal bars and poked her nose into the still air. Below the window, large clusters of tiny white blossoms glowed in the moonlight. Una studied the blossoms and wondered how they came to be planted there. No other flowers grew on that side of the wall. Perhaps her mother threw seeds from the window, hoping they’d grow.
As she studied them, a large green caterpillar climbed one of the stems, causing it to sway under its weight. The enormity of the caterpillar both fascinated and repulsed her. Its rippling movement brought it ever closer to the white blossoms.
Her arm was not long enough to reach through the bars to flick the caterpillar off the plant. If she left to get a branch to reach it, the caterpillar would surely have begun feasting before she returned.
“Go away, caterpillar!”
The caterpillar halted below the collection of blooms. She watched as it lifted its head and investigated the base of the flower.
It was then that Una heard footsteps from outside the window.
The guard. Of course. He would be on his nightly rounds.
Una shrank into the shadows where she could see, but not be seen, as the guard approached.
The caterpillar worked its way around the base of the flower, poking its head here and there to settle on the best place to feast.
Una couldn’t stand it. “Guard,” she called.
The footsteps stopped. “Who’s there?” a deep voice said.
“Una, First Daughter of the Magister Populi.”
The guard loomed out of the darkness and bowed low.
“What is your wish, First Daughter?”
In the dim light, she pointed toward the white blossoms. “There is a caterpillar on that flower. Take it away.”
The young man tipped his head. “You wish to save the flower, First Daughter? Or the caterpillar?”
Una looked at the guard. There was something familiar about him. Una studied him, but couldn’t tell what it was. “The flower, of course,” she said.
“I am honored to do your bidding.” He reached out, knocked the caterpillar to the ground, squashed it under his heel, and left with another bow.
