“Civilized for you.” I opened hers with a flick and gave it to her, opening mine after. “For me, it’s survival. As I said, we don’t burst into flames in sunlight.”
“Just blisters, then?”
“An inconvenient sizzle. There’s usually hissing involved.”
She gave me a mock wince. “Charming.”
“We do our best.” I stepped into the sunlight, the umbrella shielding my hands and face. The rest of me remained covered by my clothing.
The air hung with the scent of damp soil and blooming nightshade. The gardens stretched out around us, rows of black-bloomed lilies, glimmering duskroses, and dark vines that shimmered with silver dew.
Cyrene’s gaze darted everywhere. “It’s beautiful in a haunted cemetery sort of way.”
“That’s the highest compliment this place has received in ages.”
As we walked, I named the flora like a scholar showing off to a bored crowd. “Moonfire ivy. Wraithbells. Silverleaf. Don’t touch that one. It bites.” I pointed. “The crimson bloom there is called Veilheart. The latter is noctilucent and glows after sunset.”
Her lips curved. “How do you remember all of this?”
“I enjoy gardening.”
“A vampire who is unsafe in direct sunlight enjoys doing something outside?”
I shrugged. “I garden at night.”
“You seem to know a lot about it.”
“It’s a hobby for me, something that…” Kept me from becoming too stodgy, though I wasn’t going to say that. “I remember all their names, their blooming cycles, and how to help them thrive best.”
Her expression softened. “You love this place.”
“I loved what it was.” I swept my gaze over the dark hedges. “Before duty replaced wonder.”
We reached the center of the gardens where the entrance to the hedge maze loomed, an archway of ivy and blackthorn, taller than two men.
“This,” I said, pausing, “was designed by my great-great-great-grandfather. He believed every ruler should be reminded of how easily they could lose their way.”
Cyrene tilted her head. “That sounds ominous.”
“Accurate.” I gestured her forward.
She smirked. “Lead the way, Your Majesty. I’m sure you know every turn.”
“I do. I spent my childhood racing through these paths until my governess shouted herself hoarse. I remember every twist. Every hidden alcove.”
The hedges whispered as we stepped inside, the air cooling instantly. Sunlight fractured above us through narrow seams of green. The maze smelled of earth and dew and old magic. Quandary fluttered overhead, his wings catching glints of light, purring like a cat who’d found a way to make mischief.
At my direction, we turned left, then right, then another left. The hedges closed behind us, shifting enough that the previous path vanished.
Cyrene glanced back, frowning. “Did the shrubs move?”
“They do that sometimes. It’s nothing to worry about.”
“Mm-hmm.” Her tone dripped disbelief.
I kept going, pretending confidence that was quickly seeping away. Another right, down a narrow passage, then a fork. I chose the left and paused, peering back. The hedge behind us had sealed shut completely.
Cyrene tapped her foot on the grassy ground. “Nothing to worry about, huh?”
