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      The following day, Hyacintha expected to receive a small bouquet. Maybe a few stalks wrapped in silk, a delicate handful of violet petals.
      Instead, Baldwin took her by the hand and led her through the palace gardens, beyond the usual paths, beyond where the fountains whispered and the citrus trees swayed in the warm breeze.

     Hyacintha looked at him in confusion, but Baldwin said nothing, merely guiding her forward. And then, as they passed the last marble archway, she saw it.

      Her breath hitched. Before her stretched an entire field of hyacinths. Rows upon rows of delicate flowers, their violet hues dancing beneath the morning sun, filling the air with their sweet fragrance. They swayed gently, a sea of blossoms waiting just for her.

      Hyacintha’s hands flew to her mouth, her eyes wide with wonder. “M-my lord …” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

     Baldwin watched her quietly, his masked face unreadable, but his eyes held the softest glint of satisfaction. “I did not think a few would be enough.”

      Hyacintha turned to him, tears brimming in her eyes. She felt her heart swell, a warmth unlike any she had ever known.

     Without warning, she flung herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck as she laughed, the sound light and full of joy.
Baldwin stiffened for a brief moment, but then, slowly, he brought his arms around her, holding her close. Hyacintha pulled back just enough to look into his eyes.

     “This … this is the most beautiful thing anyone has ever done for me.”

     Baldwin lifted a single hand, brushing his knuckles against her cheek. “You deserve beauty, Hyacintha.”

      She sniffled, then grinned. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re trying to woo me, my king.”

      Baldwin chuckled, the sound deep and warm. “And if I were?”

      Hyacintha beamed up at him, stepping back to twirl amidst the flowers, arms outstretched as if she could gather the entire field in her embrace. “Then I daresay you have succeeded.”

      And as Baldwin watched her, spinning in the endless violet sea, he thought that—just maybe—he had won something far greater than a game of chess.

       The moment Hyacintha set foot onto the field, her breath hitched. The golden sunlight bathed the vast expanse before her, illuminating the endless sea of delicate blossoms swaying gently in the breeze. Hyacinths. Everywhere. A lush ocean of purples, blues, and whites stretching as far as her eyes could see.

      Her hands flew to her mouth, her eyes widening as she turned to Baldwin, who stood beside her in quiet satisfaction. The crisp wind tugged at his cloak, the silver mask catching the sunlight, but his eyes—those steady, gentle eyes—remained on her, drinking in her every reaction.

     “You ... ” Hyacintha’s voice trembled with disbelief. “You did all of this for me?”

      Baldwin exhaled softly, as if her words were unnecessary. “You wanted hyacinths,” he said simply. “So I had them grown for you.”

      Hyacintha felt a lump form in her throat. She was used to his kindness, his patience, his quiet ways of showing affection—but this? This was beyond anything she could have imagined. It wasn’t just a bouquet, not a simple gift. It was an entire field, a piece of the earth itself, given to her.

       Overcome, she turned to him with glistening eyes, her voice barely above a whisper. “Baldwin ... I don’t know what to
say.”

      “You don’t have to say anything,” he murmured, stepping forward. His gloved hand reached out, gentle as a passing breeze, plucking a single bloom from the sea of purple. Then, with the utmost tenderness, he reached for her.