A sack of dragon scales appears in the storehouse within days of my request. The other items trickle in within the following week. Sourcing the flowers is the biggest challenge, because it quickly becomes apparent that whomever Davina tasked with finding them is clueless. I asked for meadowblood and dillfeather and grizzlefoot, but they deliver locoweed and toadflax and thistles. Eventually, I have to sketch and paint diagrams so that they’ll stop mixing up shapes and colors.
When the correct flowers finally arrive a few days later, they’re delivered in huge crates packed with ice. As I unpack, I have to chuckle at their methodology. The plants were dug up root and stem. In some cases, they even included the dirt.
I’m given much more than I need, so I set aside the surplus to replant. Daisy volunteers to help clean up Ragglestaff’s old gardens, full of chatter. I even sneak Dante outside, and he runs laps around our feet as we work. Over the past few days, thelittle fox and I have become inseparable, and he appears to have given me his full loyalty in exchange for daily meals and lots of pets. Daisy and I salvage what we can and prepare the new plants. But after encountering the Head Gardener one sunny afternoon, I’m deflated to learn that Cygnus has to sign off on planting anything new in the medicinal terraces.
I tell Daisy at dinner, and she just rolls her eyes and tells me to go ahead and ask him. She tends to think I’m being too hard on Cygnus; I think she’s biased by a crush. I have to talk to Cygnus. I return to the hospital after dinner, determined.
I catch him late, after it’s cleared out. There’s a serenity to the hospital after hours that I find calming. One can really appreciate the chamber’s scale and symmetry when it’s nothing but sleeping patients and the odd night nurse. The shadows paint everything in shades of blue, and I love how the southern windows gaze out over the twinkling city. I’m busy admiring the view when I hear theclip-clopof familiar footsteps. An exhausted-looking Cygnus is aimed for his office.
I hurry after him, arriving in time to see him yank a decanter off the shelf. He pops off the lid and pours out a glass before noticing me.
“Can I help you?” His voice sounds like gravel.
“Sorry.” I start to retreat. “I can come back later.”
“It’s fine, it’s fine.” He waves me in. “Believe it or not, I’d actually like the company.”
I cautiously enter and sit, wondering when the world turned upside down.
“Did you run out of insults?” I ask, only half joking.
He returns a faint smile. “Would you like a glass?”
“No, thank you.”
He downs the liquor in a single swig. Then pours another.
“Long day?” I guess.
Cygnus sits behind his desk, letting out a lengthy exhale. “Have you ever seen something that made you rethink the profession?” he asks after a beat.
The question surprises me. Partly for its vulnerability, partly for the acknowledgment that I’minthe same profession—not a glorified consort.
“Yes,” I say truthfully. “It was…it was years ago. But yes.”
As the memory rises, shame spears my chest, just as white-hot as the day it happened. I can still hear the woman’s voice, still feel her living flesh cool in my hands.
Monster.
“Afterward, I really wasn’t sure if I should ever be a Healer,” I say. Recalling the incident feels like scraping an old wound. I haul in a deep breath to temper my Talent.
Cygnus watches me for a moment, then sips. I’m tempted to ask him the same. But when has he ever been receptive to questions?
“Was there something you wanted?” He shifts.
“Yes, actually.” I procure a short list of flowers and herbs and slide them across his desk. “I’ve been working on a project for the queen, and she sourced several plants for the draught I’m making. They’re all mountain flowers with powerful properties. If we planted them here, we could ease off our reliance on Sulnik.”
Cygnus sighs before picking up the list I’ve offered. He only skims it for a few seconds. “I’m not authorizing it.”
“What?” My skin heats. “Why?”
“I said no.” He flicks the list back toward me.
Gods, he reminds me of Mother.
“You don’t even have to do anything!” I argue. “I just need your permission to plant them!”
“Do you even know what these are?”
