Princess Moments

The Princess and the Gardener

By Elise Gilmore

I glance over my shoulder as every nerve in my body anxiously anticipates my father rounding the corner and ushering me back inside to the stifling party. I breathe deeper as minutes pass without his arrival.

“Maybe he didn’t notice I left,” I whisper to the fireflies dancing in the luminescent moonlight. One lands on the bodice of my ruffled pink ball gown. It blinks a few times before soaring off to find a mate. I sigh. That’s the reason for tonight’s ball. For me to find a mate. Or “a suitable husband” as my parents have been saying all week. I pace along the terrace wall as I wait.

Inside, noblemen from all over the country are lined up to speak to my parents. I am sure many of them are nice enough, but only one man inside caught my attention. Alexander. Unfortunately, I know my parents probably wouldn’t consider him suitable. “He’s only a gardener,” they would say.

But once upon a time, Alexander was the boy I grew up with. He was the boy who played Knight and Dragon with me in the forest surrounding the castle. He was the boy who introduced me to the wonder of seeds tenderly poking up through the soil, growing stronger and stronger each day. He was the boy who made my heart bloom when he kissed me under the stars.

When I turned sixteen, my parents separated us. I began to train for my royal duties inside the walls of the castle, and Alexander started his formal apprenticeship with his dad, the royal gardener. Though my parents have tried to keep us apart, I have continued to be captivated by him and his artistry from afar.

My sitting room on the upper level opens up to this very garden, where I’m currently seeking refuge. His garden. I have spent the last two years perched on my favorite chair looking out the bay window admiring it all. Admiring him. As the seasons pass, I’ve watched him work tirelessly.

In the fall, I watched him tend the chrysanthemums and violets as the trees flamed red and orange. The leaves tumbled to the ground like the sparks flying from a blacksmith’s hammer. In the winter, I watched as he pruned the evergreen trees into elegant swirls. In the spring, I watched him create beauty from brambles as he cleared away old plants and replaced them with new ones, specifically purple peonies and blue anemones. And now, in the summer, I watch him nurture the roses and ranunculus as they burst into bloom, their bright reds and pinks matching the color I feel creep up my cheeks at the thought of him.

A few weeks ago, I swear I caught Alexander gazing up at me as he clipped flower cuttings, but when I peeked again, he was gone. A few minutes later a vivid bouquet was delivered to me in my room. The accompanying note simply read, “I am still enchanted.” There was no signature, so I have no way of knowing if those flowers were from him. But my heart is hopeful.

Right before I made my escape to this oasis tonight, I saw him across the room. When our eyes met, a thousand butterflies began fluttering in my stomach. A smile spread across his face, and he bowed his head slightly. I felt my cheeks grow warm as I nodded back at him, a smile on my face for the first time all night. With a wink, he turned and slipped out of a side door. As soon as I could, I snuck away, hoping to find him here.

“Princess Emma,” a low voice half-whispers, pulling me back to reality. I turn toward the sound and my breath hitches when I see Alexander standing under the topiary arch at the garden’s entrance. The moonlight highlights his tanned face and wavy blond hair. “I must speak with you, if it pleases Your Highness.” He bows as he says the last phrase.

“Please do.”

I can’t help but admire the green velvet coat he wears tonight. It is so different from the white linen shirt I have become accustomed to seeing him in while he works, but both suit him well. He offers me his arm when I arrive beside him. With my slender hand tucked around his forearm, we begin walking along the winding path that snakes among the plant beds.

“I must say again that I am still enchanted…by you.” He turns his head toward me and catches my gaze with his blue eyes.

I smile shyly. The confirmation that the bouquet was from him gives my heart wings. “Alexander, I feel likewise. These years apart have been torturous.”

“At least we’ve had the garden. Knowing you are up there watching is what keeps me going.” He looks up at the dimly lit window of my sitting room. “Did you like the topiary trees this winter?”

“Oh yes. They were so elegant. I love everything you do in these gardens.”

He stops short and turns to face me. My heart speeds up as his gaze dips to my lips. He reaches his hand out, and I feel a million pinpricks where it brushes my cheek before tucking an errant strand of hair behind my ear.

“It was all for you, Princess.” He steps in closer so that our faces are mere inches apart. I look into his eyes, now as dark as the night sky. It feels like time stops. When he covers my mouth with his, my eyes close, and I slip my hands under his jacket and around his back. As we kiss, I notice the changes the past two years have made. I run my hands along the muscles in his arms and chest. I plant kisses along his strong jawline. He slides his hands around my waist pulling me closer. Then he brings them up to cup my face.

Finally, we pull apart, but Alexander keeps a hand on my neck, his thumb caressing my cheek. I lean forward so that our foreheads are touching.

The sound of someone clearing their throat causes me to jump. Alexander moves in front of me. I’m not sure who has discovered us, but I know one thing: I’m not eager to be parted from this man ever again.

“Just what is going on here?” a dark form demands. I peek around Alexander’s shoulder to see better. As the man steps into the moonlight, my heart drops.

I step out from Alexander’s shadow as he bows his head to the man. “Father…” I stare directly into his eyes as I take Alexander’s hand in mine. “I’m choosing him.”

“But I’m only a gardener,” Alexander whispers.

I shake my head, frustrated that he believes the lies of our hierarchical system. “No.” I turn to face him. “You are much, much more than a gardener. You nurture the most fragile of sprouts into stunning blooms. You work tirelessly to create beauty. You are kind and generous to those that work with and under you.”

I truly have been watching him for the last two years. I’ve seen him patiently teach the younger boys while also working longer hours so the older men can rest their aching bodies. The man he’s become has made me love him more.

I plant a kiss on his cheek before turning back to my father, ready to bear his certain wrath over my choice. I’m surprised when I find amusement, not anger, in his eyes.

“Your mother and I thought that might be the case.” His face breaks out into a smile as my mother steps in beside him.

I wrinkle my nose. “But I thought—”

“You thought your only options were nobility.” Mother places her hand around my father’s elbow and looks up at him for a moment. “It’s time she knew, Thomas.”

My father nods.

Time I knew what?

“Sweetheart, I am not the descendant of a royal line.”

My gaze flits between my mother’s and father’s faces. “You weren’t a princess?”

She shakes her head.

“It’s true,” my father says. “I met your mother right after she began her apprenticeship as the castle’s seamstress. I may or may not have purposefully made holes in my shirts from time to time just to see her.”

“I knew it, too. But I didn’t mind.” My mother winks at me.

“And the rest is history.” He lifts Mother’s hand and kisses the back. “You see, good leaders are not determined by who their parents are, but by their character. We feel confident that having Alexander by your side would only lead to you and our country flourishing.”

“We watched the two of you grow up together.” My mother smiles at us both. “But we had to be sure your desire to be together could withstand a trial. After all, ruling a country is no easy feat.”

Tears well up in my eyes as my brain races to process all I’ve heard. “So, it’s okay that I’ve chosen Alexander?”

“Emma,” my father says, his eyebrow raised. “How do you think he got an invitation to the ball tonight?” He glances at Alexander for a moment before he turns toward the palace.

“Don’t keep her out too late, Alexander,” he warns as he and my mother exit the garden.

“I won’t, Your Majesty.”