Curiously, all of Alaric’s accoutrements feature only crystal-cleardiamonds, cerulean topaz, and jade green.
“Stop pawing through my things!” Alaric yells.
“Then kindly dress yourself so we can go to our solarium.”
He steps between his drawers and me, arms folded and expression defiant. “What if I don’t want to get dressed?”
“You’re acting like a petulant toddler, but if you prefer to garden in loungewear, that’s your choice. Just don’t blame me when your underclothes get filthy.” I turn on my heel and march toward his solarium door, which is much less hidden due to the desecrated walls.
“You’re taking me togarden?” Alaric asks, jogging after me.
“That’s the plan, if you stop throwing tantrums.”
“I’m not throwing tantrums,” Alaric grumbles as we step into the blinding light and heat.
I say nothing, letting his whiny declaration prove my point.
I cross to the nearest planting bed, filled with the healing herbs I’ve been growing for Cloudia—none of which have done a bit of good—and drop to my knees in an open stretch of dirt. I pat the soil beside me and gesture for Alaric to join me.
He holds a gloved hand to his chest with exaggerated shock. “I’m allowed to touch your precious planting beds?”
“Get in here before I change my mind,” I say with a roll of my eyes.
But Alaric stands his ground. “Why now, when you were clearly against this just a few days ago? What’s changed?”
“Everything,” I say softly, and it isn’t wholly a lie. “I didn’t know we shared a similar loss. That you’re just as captive bound to Soren as I am…”
I allow my gaze to tentatively wander up to Alaric’s, but instead of grateful understanding, I’m met with a pop of bitter laughter.
“I don’t want your pity.”
“Good. Pity would imply I feel something for you, which I don’t. Now, get in here before I change my mind. And take off those frilly gloves. I promise you won’t die if your hands get dirty.”
Alaric steps into the planter, careful to avoid the knee-high lavender and balsam, and eases down beside me. He doesn’t remove his gloves, but I let it go with a sigh and shake of my head.
“So, what will you beallowingme to watch you grow?” He tries to sound aloof, but I can feel his body vibrating with excitement beside me— and he doesn’t even know what I have planned.
With a dramatic flourish, I reach for the basket of bagrava fruit, which has sat untouched in the corner since my arrival, and place it between us.
Alaric’s gaze immediately darts to my face, and the way he’s blinking at me, lips parted with surprise, makes my stomach do an absurd little flip.
I clench the basket tighter. “I thought we’d grow this.”
I expect Alaric’s face to bloom with delight, but because he lives to make my life difficult, his features harden. “You didn’t want me to watch you grow ordinary herbs, and now suddenly you’re willing to dothis?” He shakes his head. “It’s too much. You swore you’d never grow bagrava in Vanzador.”
“That was when I thought you were a complete monster,” I say.
“And now what? I’m just a partial monster?”
Instead of answering, I take a plump purple fruit in my hand and make an incision around it with the tip of a trowel. Then I pull the halves apart to reveal clusters of seeds nestled within like a pomegranate.
I hold one half toward Alaric. “Take some.”
He sputters and stares at the fruit. “Are you sure?”
Once again, his childlike wonder makes my stomach flip-flop.
“I wouldn’t have invited you here if I wasn’t certain.” I wave the bagrava half in his face.
