"Yes," she said to herself quietly. "That will do."
"Have you decided?"
"Yes. I shall call it Fragility. My brother taught me that word. He says that I am not to have any."
Eleanor raised an eyebrow at that without thinking. The game continued, the afternoon passing without her noticing. Therewas no need to direct it, no need to shape it into anything more than what it was.
For the first time since her arrival, the house felt less like something she had entered and more like something she might, in time, belong to.
"You will not go back," she said. "Will you?"
Eleanor lowered herself slightly so they were level again.
"No," she replied. "I will not. I do not mean to stake any claim, but this is my home too now."
Lily watched her for another moment, then nodded once, as if that settled it. The concern did not disappear entirely, though, and Eleanor wondered why she was so concerned about such a thing.
"Good," she said. "Because I showed you the white flowers and I do not show those to everyone."
"I am honored," Eleanor replied.
"You should be," Lily said, very seriously, before turning away again.
She moved a few steps ahead, then stopped suddenly.
"Oh," she said, crouching down. "This one is hiding."
Eleanor followed, looking down at a small flower half-tucked beneath a leaf.
"It has chosen a poor place if it wishes to be admired," she said.
"No, it is hiding on purpose," Lily insisted. "So that nobody picks it. It is shy, but not scared."
Eleanor considered the small flower, the way it remained half-hidden, undisturbed. She tried not to think too deeply into it, but she could not help but think that Lily was like the little flower. She was only half hidden, but hidden away all the same for her protection, but that did not mean that she was frightened.
Lily stood again, brushing her hands together, then reached out without thinking and took Eleanor’s hand.
"Come," she said. "There are more."
Eleanor allowed it without hesitation. They walked further along the path together, the garden opening slightly ahead of them. The game resumed at once, Lily pointing out flowers with quick certainty, deciding things as she went and changing her mind just as easily.
It required nothing from Eleanor except attention. That, she found, was not difficult. And when Lily laughed, unrestrained, entirely unselfconscious, it carried through the quiet garden insuch a way that it was a miracle that it did not disturb the wildlife.
For the first time since arriving, Eleanor did not think about the decision that she had made, or what had been left behind. She only followed where Lily led.
And Lily did not let go of her hand. They wandered further into the garden, no longer following the paths with any real intention. The game had shifted without either of them marking when it had happened. Naming flowers had become inventing stories for them, and the stories had become increasingly improbable.
"That one is a queen," Lily said, pointing at a tall, slightly crooked stem.
"A very unstable queen," Eleanor observed. "She appears to be in danger of falling."
"No," Lily said quickly. "She is pretending, so that nobody is afraid of her."
They continued on, seeing one blue flower among pink ones.
"That one," Lily said, pointing again, "is a spy."
"A spy," Eleanor repeated. "And what information does it gather?"