She was definitely thinking about why she hadn't bitten him.
Chapter thirteen
The next court dinner loomed like a storm on the horizon.
In a day’s time she'd face those mocking faces again and navigate impossible rules with deadly consequences.
She’d spent the week holed up in her room, poring over the books with no more success than the first time. Frustrated, tired and desperate for a change of scenery, Briar now wandered the walled gardens behind the conservatory, where the plants grew in neat rows and nothing screamed or tried to grab passing visitors. Here, the flowers merely watched with quiet interest rather than hunger.
Nearly a week had passed since the kiss and she could still feel the heat of his mouth, still taste wine and possession. Each night had been plagued by dreams that left her restless and confused, waking with her heart racing and skin too warm.
Her lips still tingled with a phantom sensation whenever she let her guard down.
She paused before a cascading wall of flowers that seemed to glow with their own light. Delicate white petals tinged with pink at the edges, beautiful enough to make her forget where she was. Her hand reached out, drawn by their ethereal beauty.
"Don't."
The soft warning made her freeze. She turned to find the bark-skinned female who brought her meals each day, peeking out from behind a large stone planter. The servant's amber eyes were wide with alarm.
"Those are memory blooms," the fae said quietly, glancing around as if the flowers might be listening. "They show you what you desire most. But the price..." Sheshuddered. "You forget something precious in exchange. Something you'll only realize is gone when it's too late to reclaim."
Briar pulled her hand back quickly and the flowers seemed to quiver in frustration. "Thank you."
The fae nodded and turned to her task. The stone planter she’d been hiding behind needed moving and she was trying to shift it alone, muscles straining against the weight. As Briar watched, the female's grip slipped, and the planter tilted dangerously.
Briar moved without thinking, catching the other side just before it could crash down. Together they steadied it.
"No!" The fae's alarm was immediate. "You shouldn't! Someone might see!"
"Let them see." Briar adjusted her grip, helping guide the planter to its new position. "Where does this go?"
"Please, you don't understand. If his majesty knew I accepted help from you…" The female's voice trembled, lowering to a whisper. "You could be punished. We both could."
"For moving a planter?"
"For anything he decides deserves punishment." But despite her protests, the fae couldn't manage alone. After another moment of hesitation, she pointed to a spot near a trellis of night-blooming vines. "There. It needs to go there."
They moved it together in tense silence, the fae glancing constantly toward the garden paths. When they set it down, she immediately stepped back, wringing her hands.
"You should go. Before anyone sees."
"What's your name?" Briar asked, recalling the silence she had been met for the first time she asked. She wasn’t expecting a different response this time, but she felt compelled to ask.
The fae's eyes widened further but she said nothing.
"I'm Briar," Briar continued, keeping her voice gentle, recognizing the fear. "Though I suppose everyone knows that already."
Another long moment passed. Then, so quietly Briar almost missed it, the fae replied, "Seraphin."
"Seraphin," Briar repeated with a smile, the first genuine smile she'd managed in days. "Thank you for warning me about the flowers."
Seraphin studied her with those amber eyes, something shifting in her expression. Confusion, perhaps. Or wonder. "Why?"
"Why thank you?"
"Why risk punishment to help me? You gain nothing from it."
Briar thought of the red dress, the mocking fae, the kiss that still burned on her lips. "Maybe I'm tired of everything here being about gain and loss. Maybe sometimes kindness is just... kindness."
