The elf gave her a single nod. “I’m feeling much better today, and I’m grateful for the help.”
Kori snarled with begrudging acceptance, and the elf led all three out a back door into a clearing.
Behind the cottage, a house of glass stood, catching the sun and glittering like the river that snaked through Bendcrest. She led them inside, and the chill of early spring was shut out by the pleasant warmth within. Greenery climbed up trellises on either side of the door, thick pea pods growing unseasonably early and in large bunches. Tiered boxes were angled toward the glass walls sprouting bunches of leafy greens, and long lines of beds filled with root vegetables ran down its center. Ropes hanging from the ceiling supported other plants that had roots exposed to the air, tightly coiled around the braided lengths and bearing fruits and flowers.
Reeve did not need to reach inside himself to seek out the magic all around, elven arcana obvious in every growing thing. Bees buzzed amongst the blooms, one particularly fat and fuzzy one coming to hover just before Celeste’s face. She grinned as it inspected her and then allowed it to flit away without even a protective swipe.
“This is where some of the food for the inn comes from,” Ima’riel told them.
“Uh, almost all of it, actually,” Kori interjected.
The elf’s lips twitched, face humbly dipping downward. “Well, I would like to produce more, if I can, but you can see I’ve run out of room.” She took them through the overburdened space and out its back door to a patch of grass where a table and chairs sat surrounded by brittle thorns much like those that covered the village itself.
There was a second greenhouse behind the first, but this one was in very ill shape. The door was missing and a few of the panes were shattered, but inside was worse. Every corner was filled with gnarled, dead plants. Long before they’d dried, the vines had climbed up over the walls and ceiling so that only the faintest lights shone through. There was little room to move, but a narrow walkway ran the length of the glass chamber with a clear spot in the middle where they all gathered.
“I’ve tried for quite a while, but these plants cannot be saved.” Ima’riel sighed, the first hint of a frown on her face as her hands came together. “I will need builders to repair the glass, and then I can prepare the soil and nurture more plants, but first I need someone to clear it out.”
Ah, so that was the job. Reeve shrugged. “That’s all? We can just burn this away.”
“We did consider that, but the brush is so dry, I fear it will be too difficult to contain.”
“Yeah.” Kori crossed her arms and gave him the kind of look that someone might give a child. “Fire’sdangerous.”
“Of course it is, but I can control it.” He gripped the pommel of The Obsidian Widow Maker in one hand and turned up his other palm. Warmth spilled forth from his chest and through his arm until a yellow spark ignited in his hand.
“Divine light.” The elf nodded, pleased.
Reeve glanced to Celeste. She was watching the arcana he held with a quiet interest. He snuffed it out when he was sure she had gotten a good look.
“We’re going to be roasted alive in here,” muttered Kori.
Ima’riel placed her fingertips on Kori’s elbow without looking at her. “You may go about this in whatever way you wish—I am thankful for the assistance, and I am sure that Halfrida would not send someone here incapable of the job. Kori, I have a separate task for you, if you’re willing to help me again today?”
The woman’s eyes widened, and she nodded silently. If Reeve thought she was capable, she might have blushed beneath the dark fall of hair she let hide her face.
“Then we shall leave the two of you to it.”
As they withdrew from the greenhouse, Kori called back, “Don’t let him set the forest alight!”
Reeve drew in a deep breath and let it go. Perhaps it was a bad idea, even if he could use Sid to channel his naturally occurring arcana. “So, how should we do this?”
“Uh, well?” Celeste poked at a plant so shriveled it was unidentifiable, and a leaf crumbled to the greenhouse floor. “Itisvery dry, so what exactly is your plan?”
Reeve straightened, surprised she too didn’t immediately dismiss the idea. He brought his hands together, then pulled them apart quickly, making a sound he thought might mimic flames.
There was a long and quiet moment while Celeste stood before him in the shadows of the dead plants, just staring.
“We burn it,” he said in case she didn’t understand and then shrugged. “It would be quick. Fun too. But I know it’s dumb.”
Celeste grinned. He had been expecting that, or rather, expecting a sarcastic, condescending smirk. But the smile that spread out on her face was…well, it was lovely. Reeve rubbed the center of his chest, an odd feeling there as if divine arcana were conjuring itself and filling him with warmth.
Reeve rarely came up with plans, and when he did, others often gave him a pitiful look and moved on, much like how Kori had done. But the smile Celeste gave him instead was kinder than that, no hint of condescension or frustration.
“You’re right, it would be quick and fun.” At this, her eyes narrowed on him, and that kind smile deepened into a playful smirk. The warmth in his chest dropped down to his stomach, and that felt…funny. “Do you mind if I help?”
Reeve pressed a hand to his gut so he could focus. “You can control fire too?”
“Not like you,” she said, touching the locket hanging around her neck, “but I can smother it. The last time we tried to work together, it was sort of a disaster, but maybe if we go slower—”
