Avalon, Glass Island.
The noon hour of May 21 had passed.
Isabel sat alone in the courtyard pavilion of the Silver and Tin Palace.
By the end of May, it was already early summer, and the midday sunlight had grown glaring. Even without shining directly on someone, its heat was enough to make them drowsy.
Avalon's griffin minister was resting in this rear courtyard... This was also where Iver had first learned horsemanship.
She stared blankly at the lush flowers and plants in the courtyard, slowly reaching out a hand toward them.
Her slender, fair fingers were like a conductor's baton, striking up the Voice of Miracles--
Rainbow-colored glimmers surfaced--a dazzling giant flower sprouted from the flowerbed. It had red and purple petals, making it look like a magnificent, enormous rose. From any angle, it looked completely real.
But Isabel merely sighed softly.
As Isabel curled her fingers, the flower shattered like a pane of glass and vanished in an instant. The shards scattered across the ground gradually faded as well, like ice melting beneath the sunlight.
Isabel had not truly caused such a flower to grow. She had conjured it with an illusion.
"...The real can never be fake, and the fake can never be real."
The corners of Isabel's lips lifted slightly as she murmured, "I really can't be the 'Queen of Flowers.'"
People tended to overthink when they were anxious. She remembered something Iver had casually told her not long ago while they were lying beside each other--he had once seen another possible future.
If Antimony had successfully invaded Avalon, Isabel could only have fled overseas with Iver. Avalon would then have been reduced to wasteland by the descent of the Shadow Angel. In that worldline, Isabel had sacrificed her ability to bear children in exchange for