Spring

She felt her heartbeat slow as she watched the ice begin to melt outside of the walls of her husband’s home. The warming temperatures were always the first sign that soon, her mother would come to collect her. She turned away quickly, as if no longer looking would make it untrue. But she knew full well just how particular her mother was about time.
The great stone halls echoed with her footsteps, mocking her like the ticking of a giant clock. She often took to being barefoot in the halls to avoid the rhythmic slapping, and wished she was this day. At least in the bedroom, the plush carpets absorbed the sound. She sat in front of her vanity and closed her eyes tightly as she faced the mirror. She knew what she looked like, and wanted to hold it inside instead.
Far from the sun and her mother’s fields, her skin lost its bronze glow. Now, she radiated the cool, pale mysteries of the moon and stars. The only color to her face now were her lips, smudged with precious purple as a reminder of the only Seeds she ever planted on her own. The crown she wore here was iron, the daisy chain circlet long since dried to dust. Here she was not a child. Here she was a queen.
She opened her eyes as she felt something brush her cheeks, but kept them downcast. She caught just a glimpse of the fingertips as they wiped away ears she had not even realized fell. The hands then settled on her shoulders as she looked up at her refection. Her husband stood behind her with his head tilted down, lips pressed against the top of her head, face obscured by her wild hair Neither had to speak. Centuries in to this agreement, they knew.
Spring had come. Soon she would be leaving home.