“I know how you feel,” he murmured, his eyes resting on her.
Vivienne turned to him, blinking rapidly before shaking her head, trying to focus. “You made all of this?” Her voice came out half in disbelief, half in reverence.
“I did,” he said simply, but the pride in his voice was unmistakable.
Her eyes roved over the garden with renewed appreciation. “Why haven’t we been up here before? Why haven’t you shown me this?”
Lewis hesitated. Then, with a small shrug, he said, “We spend most of our time in your world. And I’ve been content to keep this part of mine separate. I wasn’t sure how interested you’d be in a bunch of plants.”
A sharp pang of guilt settled in her chest. She knew she had a tendency to be wrapped up in her own pursuits, but years had passed, and she’d never once insisted on seeing the thing he had devoted his life to. She swallowed, then met his gaze.
“Of course I’m interested,” she said, her voice softer now. “I should have asked more. I should have insisted on seeing the gardens sooner. This is your life’s work, and we are a huge part of each other’s lives.” She took a small step closer, her brow furrowing. “Don’t leave me out of the things that matter to you. Okay?”
Lewis held her gaze for a beat, then smiled. “Okay.”
Vivienne let out a breath, her shoulders loosening. She gestured to the vivid array of blossoms surrounding them. “Besides, this isgorgeous.How did I ever think Botany would be boring?”
Lewis let out a warm laugh, shaking his head. “Want to check out some more boring stuff?”
They wandered deeper into the garden, Lewis pausing now and then to point out certain flowers or designs. Vivienne took her time, running her fingers over velvety petals, breathing in the perfume of each bloom.
She recognized many of her favorites—bright yellow black-eyed susan blooms, purple coneflowers, and red dahlias as big as dinner plates. Her thoughts flickered to Briar.She would love this. I’ll bring her here once she’s back and have Lewis give her the full tour.
The garden pathways converged as they neared the castle, the air thick with the scent of sun-warmed stone and the perfume of the garden. Two towering doors marked Eirenden Keep’s entrance—massive slabs of solid oak, reinforced with thick iron bands. Above them, the royal emblem of Fendwyr was carved deep into the stone. The wise and regal owl perched beneath a radiant eight-pointed star, its wings half-unfurled, as if ready to take flight.
The moment Vivienne and Lewis stepped over the threshold, the sheer scale of the entrance hall enveloped them. Light filtered through narrow stained-glass windows, their jeweled colors spilling across the polished marble floor in a kaleidoscope of shifting hues. The vaulted ceiling stretched impossibly high, supported by monolithic stone pillars, their surfaces etched with scenes of ancient battles, crowned rulers, and mythic beasts frozen in time. A broad, sweeping staircase ascended to the higher levels, its steps gleaming under the fractured light.
Vivienne barely had time to absorb the grandeur before a high-pitched, nasally voice sliced through the hush.
“Name,” she demanded, not bothering with pleasantries.
Behind an imposing desk, a severe-looking woman sat ramrod straight, her mousy brown hair pulled back so tightly it looked like it hurt. Her plain features were indecipherable, but her walnut brown eyes tracked them with unsettling precision, as if cataloging their every move.
“Vivienne Banner.”
The woman’s gaze flicked to Lewis. “And you?”
“Lewis Blume.”
She paused as she scanned the roster in front of her. “You are on the list.”
Vivienne exhaled, relieved they hadn’t somehow been forgotten.
“You will wait in the antechamber until the Chancellor retrieves you,” the woman said, pointing to an archway on her left.
Vivienne started to step forward.
“Not yet.” The woman’s voice snapped through the air like a whip, freezing them both in place. “I need to review the rules.”
Lewis shot Vivienne a sideways glance.Of course she does.
The woman cleared her throat—a sharp, grating sound lingering in an unpleasant echo.
“Bow before the throne. Address the King as Your Majesty. Present your petition clearly and do not waste the Crown’s time. No weapons. No wandering. No wallowing. No oysters. No strawberries.”
Lewis’ hand shot up in question. “I’m sorry, did you say no oysters or strawberries?”
A long-suffering sigh escaped the woman, her fingers impatiently drummed against the desk. “Yes. His Majesty is allergic to one and despises the other.”
