Once she moved the spell was broken, and in a flash her disguise gone. In Mara's hands were a dozen - no more - lilly blossoms that she'd begun weaving to a turquoise jade vine, already adorned with night-blooming Cereus, Juliet roses, Moonflowers and Saffron Crocus. With a whisper of silk she rose to her feet and snuck slowly up onr the fallen angel. Still, he was ahead of her, Melek hadn't turned his head around yet. And the tree he was under had just the right florets to finish the flower coronet that her fingers were already braiding together.

The grass was soft under the faeling's feet. Here, even in the overgrown and somewhat isolated garden of the palais, though all manner of plantlife was running wild, it had magical, ethereal beauty that was only enhanced by moonlight and shadows. The wild rose bushes, entwined with each other, created a hedge that was alive with heady scent and needle-sharp barbs. These she avoided for now; what she held in her hands - though smaller and more delicate - were far more rare and exquisite.

Her heart was racing, every sense alive and alert. The moon, the warmth of the night; the shadows and silver light; the garden secrets and the man she stalked as she crept on bare feet behind him. Ah, he was turning! Duck or hide? Quick what to do?

Mara chose to laugh and raise her hands up, crowning the Grigori with a living coronet of beautiful flowers.

"Did I not promise to crown you this night, Melek?"