Becky Jenkinson > Quotes

“If you keep going, you’re going to pass out again,’ Willoh says. Not as a threat, just as a fact. ‘Although…’ He catches up to my side and leans forward. I throw him the smallest of glances. ‘Look at you, in your cute dress, with flowers in your hair. On second thought, by all means, keep going. When you faint, maybe you’ll fall into my arms.”
― Becky Jenkinson, Wildflower

“In my palm appears a single yellow dandelion. Its gentle magic tingles down my spine. It’s okay. I can protect you. You can find a way forward. It whispers a lullaby of encouragement and healing before the cluster of petals shrivels inward. It leaves no life for itself and wilts in my palm.
If I was feeling stronger, I’d burst into tears.
My flowers don’t usually wane so fast, but the dandelion knew I needed all the energy it had— its short life for a chance to save my own. And from such a common, overlooked species. Taking what it has offered feels like a betrayal. I’m so sorry.”
― Becky Jenkinson, Wildflower

“Bittersweet Nightshade
poisonous berries
protection against malicious forces
truth”
― Becky Jenkinson, Wildflower

“Clematis
grows on vines
“You will overcome
any challenge”
ingenuity and cleverness”
― Becky Jenkinson, Wildflower

“Chamomile
joy, peace, and
relaxation.
can be used to
make tea
sleep aid”
― Becky Jenkinson, Wildflower

“Poppy
strong sedative
remembrance
the eternal sleep of death”
― Becky Jenkinson, Wildflower

“Hawthorn
“I hope you return my
affections”
protected by magical
guardians in folklore
sweetness and
purity”
― Becky Jenkinson, Wildflower

“Rose
desire and enthusiasm
need regular maintenance
and a humid environment
passion, romance
and beauty”
― Becky Jenkinson, Wildflower

“In the centre of the magical meadow, a singular flower grows. Its tall saffron-yellow stem supports leaves that bleed into a magnificent fiery red and, gods, the petals… Long thin triangles burst out like the sun itself in rich gradients of pink and coral. It’s the sunset, the sunrise, and all the light between. The fully bloomed afternoon sun. A golden, shimmering daylight, aflame with light and life and an intense brilliance that has me falling to my knees beside it.”
― Becky Jenkinson, Wildflower

“My bouquets are more than a message. I enchant them so the receiver feels the message within, as each flower has its own emotion that I can amplify. I dive into the depths of the petals, search the stems, consider each leaf and thorn and stamen, until the magic is coaxed out and confessing the deepest of sentiments.”
― Becky Jenkinson, Wildflower

“Right before me, on a canvas of cloudy gray sky, twin flowers sway on the very edge of a precipice that pokes out like an arrowhead. I whimper in relief. The deep blue stems of two Odyssa flowers twist around each other, softening out to a pastel blue that gives way to blooming heads of white petals. Unlike the showy, pointed petals of the Feiyan, both Odyssa are soft and round, balls of inward curls that protect a gleaming cerulean center— exactly like Card's eyes, sharply aware and persistent. Resilient. As I must be to collect them and get off this godforsaken mountain.”
― Becky Jenkinson, Wildflower

“Dahlia
“I’m grateful for you”
dignity and devotion
eternal love”
― Becky Jenkinson, Wildflower

“He painted the grandest visions of tall domed ceilings that glistened like the stars on a crisp winter night; of bookshelves that grew like mosaic-decorated branches of a tree, crammed with all the knowledge one could possibly imagine; and more. Where the students could study and thrive and access the deepest, most intimate archives, and residents could dedicate their lives to research. He talked about it over and over, until it was imprinted on my mind like an impossibly impressive legend, growing more and more nonsensical as the years went by.
He was exactly right.
The Library stands like a bold mountain under a late-afternoon sky, surrounded by open green fields that make sure it isn’t obstructed. It’s possibly three, no four, times the size of Alrick Castle, and wildly more interesting. Where the castle has gray-stone walls and four smooth turrets, the Library has at least ten colossal domed towers, shining like the bricks have been stamped with golden sunlight, and pierced with windows in all kinds of shapes— some paper-thin strips of glass, some rainbow-filled circles, and one large dome in the center that holds a giant bronze telescope perfect for reading the sky.”
― Becky Jenkinson, Wildflower

“I grasp the bottom of the Odyssa stems. And they smile. For a brief moment, I get the barest waft of warmth, the faintest memory of a deep navy sky and deathly silence as the sun sleeps under the horizon. Just as I read in the book the queen gave me, this flower lives in the seam between day and night like the stitches separating light and dark. It’s volatile and elusive, hiding out here in the mountains, in the quiet, in the snow, not bright like the sun, or beautiful like the moon, but a vivid, fleeting moment in between.”
― Becky Jenkinson, Wildflower

“Here’s the sun, his golden glow and warm eyes, touching me like a precious petal, like I’m something to be cherished. There’s none of the anxiety I felt trying to please Lark. The affection I have for Will, this yearning, it’s spring flowers in full bloom, open and simply wonderful.”
― Becky Jenkinson, Wildflower

“Sweet Peas
housewarming gift
hospitality and kindness
strong sweet smell”
― Becky Jenkinson, Wildflower

“It’s delicate and effortless, like spending a full day lying in a grassy field, only to fall asleep and wake up hours later, drowsy but changed, a glow on my skin and butterflies in my hair, the smell of daisies in the breeze and no tension, no strain to be found. Falling for Will feels simple. It’s as natural as the sun rising over the citadel walls and glinting off the glass of my greenhouse, as reliable and real as the roses that grow there. Just as I do in the greenhouse, I lose time to him. He eclipses everything. And here, in this space we’ve built— in this trust we’ve created— I’m truly myself, and truly his.”
― Becky Jenkinson, Wildflower

“lilac
new love
pair with tulips to
declare first love
grows in sunny fields”
― Becky Jenkinson, Wildflower

“Snapdragon
pair with asphodel
to apologize
grows best in the sun
presumption”
― Becky Jenkinson, Wildflower

“Freesia
a thoughtful gift
Card’s favorite!
trust and friendship”
― Becky Jenkinson, Wildflower

“Yarrow
treats bleeding and fevers
“I hope it will get better”
cure for a broken heart”
― Becky Jenkinson, Wildflower

“The Feiyan is daytime, the sun. The Odyssa grew in a pair and felt like… like the in-between, like dawn and dusk, sunrise and sunset.”
The Keeper nods, and if I’m not wrong, purses his mouth, impressed.
“And the Lunarie?” he prompts.
“The night. The moon’s glow. The energy that lies in darkness.”
“That’s correct. Put together in order, the Feiyan in the north, Odyssa to the east and west, and Lunarie in the south, they create a forever moving circle, an unbreakable loop, just like the cycle of days. Circles are often used in magic to amplify, as they’re an incredibly powerful conduit.”
― Becky Jenkinson, Wildflower

“When we enter the hidden grove, we leave the night behind. The air shines with sparkles of gold dust, and although the high ceiling is pitch-black, the ground glows a vivid green— a radiant reflection of the flowers that bloom across the stretch of grass before us. My breath catches. There must be more than thirty Lunaries here! Each one comes up to my shin, standing strong with a purple stem and lime-green almond-shaped petals that crackle. There's an energy within that's unlike any flame. It's intense and glimmering and beyond anything I could imagine. I don't need to use my lantern here.
"Oh, Will, thank you," I say, and bend to brush my fingertip over a stem. The magic inside burns with vitality and zest right down to the roots. It radiates through my skin and warms my bones, alive and very, very powerful.”
― Becky Jenkinson, Wildflower

“Hyacinth
pair with olive to
ask for peace
deep regret
“Please forgive me”
― Becky Jenkinson, Wildflower

“It was those flowers in your hair and your cute, frowny expression.”
“Frowny?”
“Yeah, you have a tough little scowl. Your eyes get all narrow and you pull your chin up. Ah, just like that.” He beams at my reaction. “It’s so at odds with the way you dress; it threw me off guard from the start. I didn’t realize someone so short could cause me so much trouble. You’re a persistent little wildflower.”
― Becky Jenkinson, Wildflower

“Crown imperials are native to the Kingdom of Hemlor in the far south due to the land’s rocky mountains, way too far for my usual supply. I reach out a hand to inspect the leaves. The magic inside greets me with a boldness that common flowers wouldn’t dare. Power and nobility live within, ordering me to bow down and bask in its majesty. There’s a vividness to the orange petals that reminds me of the golden band Bash wears around his head for formal events. It’s rare, all right. Rare and royal.”
― Becky Jenkinson, Wildflower

“Heather
pair with cattails to
wish for recovery
from sickness
new beginnings and
self-discovery
protection”
― Becky Jenkinson, Wildflower

“Crown Imperial
rare
toxic if ingested
majesty, royalty,
and power”
― Becky Jenkinson, Wildflower

“Apple blossom
sweet and fruity scent
life renews, even in the
face of hardship
“Beware!”
― Becky Jenkinson, Wildflower

“The aroma is a world away from the musty air of the castle library. This place is luscious, like a field of roses in summer, or a grove of jasmine— exquisitely unique and refreshing. There’s a pinch of something sharp too, like the tinge of burnt metal and magic that fizzles on my tongue. I step forward on marble floors made of the richest navy and silver, mouth agape. Past the sparkles in the air, bookshelves grow in colossal rows toward a twinkling turquoise glass dome ceiling, not in sharp wooden lines, but in crooked curved grooves that house books of all sizes and shapes. The foyer we’re in heads in a few directions, but each path ends in a deep blue shadow, from which shuffles of turning pages and whispered conversations float.”
― Becky Jenkinson, Wildflower