Melilot whipped her head around.
But the queen had already vanished, as if she had never been there at all.
My story lapsed into silence. Sam held me close until we both fell asleep to the rustle of leaves in the soft spring rain.
Chapter Forty-One
Sweet and Savage Clover
“So,” Calla said, “we’ve been dropping hints for the past few weeks—”
“Subtle hints,” Liam added.
“—that we think she should go easy on you. That it wasn’t your fault, and you can hardly be blamed if Gervase was in love with someone else.”
“But also that it wasn’t his fault.”
“Or anyone’s fault, really, except maybe the evil princess’s, since she’s already dead.”
Liam’s thumbs were tucked into his pockets, his fingers tapping fretfully against his legs. Although his discomfort might have been attributable to the swarm of bees clustered around Calla’s head. “We tried not to push the evil-sorceresses-are-the-problem thing too hard, though,” he said. “We thought that might, um, backfire.”
They’d met us in the gardens at the base of the palace. They must have been keeping an eye out because Sam and I hadbarely dismounted before they ran up to us, already spouting plans before we had a chance to so much as say hello. It was a bright, clear day, and the gardens were in full spring blossom, the pansies and daffodils aglow with color, the air scented by rosemary and mint. Scattered cherry blossom petals dusted the paths. A few of the nearby beds had been planted with white or sweet clover to rest the soil.
Calla had placed a few flowers in her hair, and a cloud of bees hovered over them contentedly. Liam was brave enough to stay within striking distance, but Sam’s stallion had backed away, pawing at the ground nervously. Sam murmured soothing nonsense in the horse’s ear to calm him down. Poma, who had judged the bees to be a less noteworthy threat than murderous stone giants, regarded the scene with tranquil disinterest. But for my part, I decided to forgo giving Calla a hug.
There was a rustle in the bushes nearby, and Jonquil and Gnoflwhogir emerged from one of the narrow, winding pathways, cherry blossoms clinging to their shoes.
“We’ve been explaining to Mother that it wasn’t your fault—” Jonquil began.
“I think we got the gist of it,” I said. “How’s it been going?”
There was a long pause, filled with the buzzing of bees, while the four of them eyed one another.
“I have a backup plan,” Gnoflwhogir said.
“Does it involve stabbing?” I asked.
She looked affronted. “You think this is my only idea? Of course not stabbing.”
“Sorry.”
“First, I will light everything on fire—”
“Maybe I should talk to her,” I said, “before we try anything too rash.”
Gnoflwhogir sniffed and swatted at a bee that had ventured too close. I flinched in reflexive sympathy, but it didn’t sting her. Maybe it didn’t dare.
Sam had managed to calm his horse. “Do you want me to go with you?” he asked.
“I think I should face her alone,” I said. “But I wouldn’t mind if there was someone waiting for me outside the door.” I took a steadying breath. “Shall we?”
“Wait.” Liam plucked a sprig of clover off a stalk and pressed it into my hands. “Take this.”
It was, I saw, the rarer four-leaf kind. I twirled it between my thumb and forefinger. “And what will this do?”
“Do?” He looked surprised. “Nothing, hen. It’s for good luck.”
“So,” Gnoflwhogir said, “once the fire is lit, I will shout, ‘Look! An invisible army is attacking!’ ”
