Glancing down to the box, Rune freed the ribbon, lifted the lid, and pushed back the brown paper inside. A bouquet of silk buttercups sprung from the packaging. Her pulse hummed in her throat as she reached to pick them up. The flowers were simpler than the rose he’d given her at her after-party, but ten times as plentiful. Rune held the bouquet in her hands, stroking the tiny petals made of buttery silk, tracing the fine stitches. He made these.
