“Oh,” I breathed. “Kyzaire.”
“Where have you been?” Kaldur demanded, his voice low and guttural as he strode toward me. “No one could find you.”
He looked…angry? But why?
“In—in here,” I stammered, waving my hand in the garden.
That made him pause. “Since this morning?”
“Yes,” I replied, standing uncertainly, my notebook hanging loose in my palm, and I heard something clatter to the stone. One of my pencils rolled toward Kaldur, the tip breaking off from the impact. I’d worn it down to nothing today, using a rock to keep it sharp.
Kaldur crouched and swept up the pencil. He inspected it, and then his eyes went to the notebook. I flipped it closed, quickly, wrapping the long cord around to keep it secure.
“You said I could explore the gardens,” I said swiftly, relieved when his gaze finally returned to mine. The pencil was laughably small pinched between his fingers. “It’s beautiful in here. I haven’t left. I, um, hope you don’t mind. I stole a few fruit from the Orchard for lunch.”
Kaldur still said nothing. His silver eyes were pinned to me, only an arm’s length of space between us. I realized I must’ve looked a mess, and he looked just as fresh and put together as he had this morning. I wiped at my cheeks, wondering if I had charcoal smeared there. It wouldn’t be the first time.
“You just made it worse,” he informed me. When my brow furrowed in confusion, he stepped forward. I stilled when his warm hand came to my cheek, as the firm swipe of his thumb wiped away what was smudged there. “There.”
“Thank you,” I said, giving him a shaky smile. The muscles in his jaw clenched, his eyes on my lips. Then he looked up, plucking a pencil that I had stabbed through the mess of my hair, piled at my crown, in an attempt to keep it pinned up and out of my face as I worked.
The mass fell down. I watched his eyes flare, his nostrils widen. A shuddered breath fell from him, the small exhale surprising me.
“How is it,” he began, his voice low and smooth, “that you smell even better than I remember?”
I felt those words swell in my breast. My nipples tightened under my uniform and apron.
“Look at you,zendra,” he murmured, those eyes rapt on me. “No, not azendra. Like this, you’re adallia.”
That word jolted me.
A bubble of uncertain, soft laughter escaped me. “Awalking tree?”
“Yes. Wild and untethered, their roots always pushing above the ground. And you know why? Because they are alive and curious creatures. They will not be bound to the confines of one place.”
I sobered, though his words struck a chord that thrummed within me.
“Given that you just spent the day in my gardens, I thought the comparison would be a compliment to you,” Kaldur added, his lips finally quirking up in a small, amused grin. Back to his charm, smoothing over the lines of his previous anger.
“It is quite the compliment,” I told him. “There was a story I loved when I was young about adalliatree named Kir. And Kir made a friend in a village boy, and they went on all sorts of adventures together across the countryside and through forests.”
Kaldur’s grin reached his eyes, and I realized, in a sudden jolt, that his smile was hardly ever genuine. Not truly. Butthisonewas, and it filled me with a sense of victory. It was a beautiful smile.
“Yes, the fable from Salaire,” Kaldur said. His smile waned. “But that story has a sad ending. Not many like it. I’m surprised you do.”
“I never like to readthatending,” I confessed to him. “I always made up my own when I told it. And in mine, I like to believe that the boy grew too old to go on any more adventures. And that Kir loved him too much to leave, so he planted his wild roots deeply near the home the boy chose so they could always be close as they aged.”
Kaldur had drawn closer. “That is a nicer ending. Though the point of that fable was to teach that loss and change is a natural, important part of life.”
I looked down at our booted feet, close together. One pair scuffed, one pair pristine. “And they will both feel it eventually, even in my ending. The boy will die. Kir will wither with time because even trees aren’t immortal. Why not enjoy their happiness while they can? I think that’s a better lesson, especially for children.”
“I can’t argue with that,” Kaldur replied, capturing my chin to tilt my face back up to his. He was peering at me carefully. I got the strange sense he was trying tounderstandme. Like I was something to be puzzled out.
“Do you have anydalliatrees in your garden?” I wondered, feeling my heart quicken at his nearness.
Kaldur made a chuffing sound in the back of his throat. “Even if I did, do you think they would stay for long?”
“No, I suppose not. But if I were one, I would happily spend my life in this garden.”
