“It’s a cosmogold bush,” I explain. “Cosmogolds are a hardy hybrid flower from the old planet.”
Silence.
I try again, “The old planet, Earth, is where my ancestors?—”
“I am well aware of how humans came to inhabit this planet.” His red gaze snaps up to meet mine. “I am baffled as to why you would come out here to render such a thing.”
“Well...” I answer carefully. “Like Commander Skorrin said, flowers are meant to bring delight.”
“Delight,” he repeats, like it’s a foreign word I forgot to define.
“And what happens after they are delighted upon? Are we meant to eat them?”
Okay, even I know that laughing at a king in front of all his subjects probably isn’t the wisest move.
I clamp my lips shut against the laugh bubbling up and manage to answer, “No, you never eat flowers. You just delight in their presence until they die.”
“They willdie?” calls a voice from somewhere behind the king.
I glance over and spot Brelliard, the older brown Mountain Goat who escorted me into the castle yesterday, looking alarmed.
“You didn’t tell me that before you conscripted me into helping you!”
“I didn’t ask you to help me,” I remind him, craning around the Stone Fae King’s massive, partially spread wings to address the old goat. “You asked what I was up to. Then I just assigned you a few tasks after I told you I was building a garden and you asked if you could work alongside me.”
“Same thing!” Brelliard insists with an outraged bray. “I do not wish for this beautiful bush of nature jewelry to die!”
“If it makes you feel any better, flowers go through a cycle—dying and blooming, dying and blooming again,” I assure him. “But I understand how you feel. And you don’t have to help tomorrow when I install the next row of luntunia bushes.”
“Well, I didn’t say I didn’t want to…” Brelliard begins. But his reply is quickly drowned out by other voices.
“May I help you tomorrow?” another servant dressed like Doorrinthiah asks, her head still bowed.
“And me?” Doorrinthiah herself adds.
“I also want to help!” one of the soldiers volunteers, though, technically, Commander Skorrin already committed them all to clearing the bramble and vines to make my two-day job easier.
More voices rise, volunteers piling on.
I laugh and make a sweeping hand motion for everyone to quiet down.
“Anyone who wants to join me tomorrow is welcome,” I tell them, grinning. “There’s plenty of work if we want to get this garden together before I… ah, leave.”
That’s the most judicious alternative I can come up with forget bled out like a barnkip by your king in sacrifice to your bloodthirsty moon good.
Even with that on the horizon, I feel pretty darn gleeful as I say, “Just meet me out here in the morning.”
The crowd’s mood dims.
“In the morning?” Commander Skorrin repeats.
“Yes.” I frown. “Is sunsrise too early?”
A ripple of confused murmurs answers my question.
I glance at the Stone Fae King across the bush, searching his face for guidance.
“Did I say something wrong?” I ask, cupping my hand to whisper the question.
