“Oh.” I stop walking, and he crashes into me from behind. His hands find my hips as he steadies me, steadiesus,and once again, I lose the ability to breathe. The soft pressure of his long fingers wrapping around me has my pulse thrumming, and his mouth is far too close to my ear, so close, I can feel the heat of his breath.
He pulls away.
“After you,” I manage to say, my back finding the wall to make room for him to pass.
He doesn’t say anything, his eyes refusing to meet mine, but he does stroll by, heading in the same direction I had been going in, but then his fingers drag along the wall until stopping on a stone that sticks out slightly more than the others.
He gives it a firm push, and a section of the wall moves inward, revealing a passageway—asecretpassageway—and my heart beats with excitement.
I follow him in, and the wall closes behind me. He moves at a quick pace, and I move just as fast, although my steps are forced to be quicker to match his long strides.
Briefly, I wonder why these passageways exist and how many are hidden within these walls, but then I realize something such as this is probably common in every palace in every kingdom. Allowing the royals to move about unbothered, or perhaps…allowing them a way to escape if a threat were to ever arise.
I ponder that thought for no longer than a moment, focused instead on how I’m more anxious than I thought I’d be. Not from the fear of being caught, but by the idea of seeing what I’ve been dreaming about for the last few weeks.
The gardens.
We climb stair after stair, my legs burning by the time we reach the top, and I crave the day when my muscles are stronger, hoping it will come sooner rather than later.
The room I’ve been staying in is much deeper underground than I had originally thought. After the fourth flight of stairs and three seemingly endless hallways, we exit through a door that looks very much like a wall and leave the secret passages behind.
A few steps later and we stop in front of a large, intricately carved archway. Jax turns to me, blocking my view of what lies behind him.
“Are you ready?” His eyes find mine for the first time since his hands had steadied me. The golden flakes swirl, and his throat bobs with a soft swallow.
“You know I am.” I step closer, eager for him to let me pass, to allow me to take my first step outside inweeks.
Finally, he moves.
My breath catches as I walk through the archway and my feet find the cobblestone path.
It’s beautiful.
More than beautiful, it’s healing.
Moonlight spills over the gardens, its silvery glow giving everything an otherworldly shimmer. Towering flowers in shades of red, purple, and yellow stretch toward the sky, their delicate petals reaching for the far away stars.
Vine-covered arches line the stone walkways, each one leading to the center of the space, where a fountain made of white marble sits. The surface of the water sparkles like scattered diamonds, and the soft sound fills the silence, as if the garden itself is singing.
Drawn to a cluster of flowers with petals so translucent they appear to glow, my hand instinctively reaches out to touch them, savoring their fragile perfection.
When I was a child, and thoughts of being an Essentari had crept into my mind late at night, I had always envisioned myself as a Terramancer. A wielder of earth and the life that soil produces. Someone who could coax plants to bloom with a simple thought, who could bond with nature in such an intimate way.
That’s what I would have chosen, if given the chance.
Even now, standing here, I feel something stirring, a pull toward the plants. It’s something I’ve always felt—drawn to the things that can grow in the darkest of places, survive in the most brutal conditions.
Plants are resilient. Plants are stubborn, and they all have a purpose. Whether it’s simply to provide our world with a bit more beauty or to heal us from wounds we inflict upon ourselves and each other.
They all matter.
It would have been nice to be a Terramancer.
The thought lingers as I run my fingers ever so gently over a vine spiraling up one of the arches, its leaves cool and velvety. It takes my brain a moment, but I know what these are.
Dustviel leaves.And there are so, so many of them.
My eyes scan the gardens, searching for other plants I recognize.
