“Well, it took you long enough,” Brelliard complains just as I finish scanning the terrace. “We almost went home. We thought perhaps the king had finally found a way to bind you up.”
“Or worn you out from all the fucking,” his wife, Jaaliah, adds boldly.
And this is how I find out that fae have exceptional hearing—and love to gossip.
Apparently, the whole castle was abuzz over the sounds coming from the king’s chamber when the kitchen and dusting goats reported for their morning shift just before sunsrise. And the kitchen goats and dusting staff were more than happy to pass that gossip on to my volunteer crew.
Somehow, I manage not to die of embarrassment as I grit out, “Thank you for your patience.”
“What’s today’s plan, then?” Nettling asks. “Are we still filling the rest of the terrace with rose bushes?”
Yes, that had been the plan. A full quarter-yard blooming with rosebushes in every color: peach, white, yellow, pink, and, of course, deep-crimson bloodred. One last bit of legacy to ensure these people never forget I was here. And a final, thorny “mulch you!” to their killer king.
But then I think about the dream of my father in his flower crown.…
And the Mountain Goats, warriors, and servant fae who were so encouraging of my efforts, so eager to help me realize my dream.…
And how these last three days—building a garden with them watching and helping—have technically been the best of my life.
“Yes, rose bushes...” I answer Nettling slowly as a new idea blooms in my head. “But we’re also going to add sunlace, zesperbreath, moonspice, and thimblewish. Also, we’ll need to cut several lengths of whispervine.”
With the new vision bright in my mind, I quickly start assigning tasks.
There’s so much to do, I don’t even stop for lunch. And no doubt the poor Mountain Goats are exhausted from all the weaving and climbing to secure my parting gifts to the heads of every Stone Fae and warrior standing throughout the castle, inside and out.
But it’s worth it when the Stone Fae in the garden uncast with a high-pitched sound I can only describe as a collectivesquee.
Their reaction to the flower garlands we’ve placed upon their heads while they slept goes beyond delight. They compliment each other as they rush to the castle’s back window to check their reflections, then squeal even louder when they see themselves.
Not only do they thank me for their “nature jewelry crowns,” I find out—via the slightly terrifying method of being tossed into the air—that the Stone Fae also have music and dance. The goats break out a glimberharp, along with a couple of woodwinds. Meanwhile, the gleefully grateful servant fae start a circular dance that includes flinging me so high that one of them has to fly up to catch me.
I’m not sure I love being a human ball. But I’m laughing and teaching them a full-on ground-based head-and-shoulders dance that humans call the Wiggle Worm when someone taps me on the shoulder.
I turn to find Rinthiah, wearing the crown of pale purple luntunias and zesper we made her, along with a look of apology in her glowing silver eyes.
“Is everything alright?” I ask, immediately ceasing my dance.
“I am sorry, but I must dress you in a gown of white and paint your face for tonight’s ceremony.”
Oh.
The music comes to an abrupt halt.
And I realize there’s still so much I haven’t done. I need to teach everyone how to manually make the crown without magic. Let them know the sunlace can be boiled into a soothing tea. Instruct the goats on how to mulch to prevent weeds and what to do when—not if—an invasive species comes through to disease or chomp on the garden.
“I need just a little more time,” I tell her. “To instruct Brelliard and Jaaliah about the garden’s upkeep. Though, where is Brelliard?”
I look around, realizing I haven’t seen the old goat who first signed on to help me since suns’ set.
“I’m afraid there is no more time,” Rinthiah says before I can find him in the crowd. “I waited…”
She visibly struggles with the next words. “I waited as long as I could. The ceremony—moonsrise—is only a tick away.”
A somber cloud falls over the garden.
And I realize… I need more time.
But it’s time to face my death.
