Arthur helped her shakily to her feet, only to stiffen when Eva cried out. “What is it?”
“My ankle. I hurt it when we fell.” And from the look of it, she’d gotten a nasty sprain. The joint was already swelling, hurting more and more with every second now that she was upright, the blood rushing down into her foot.
Arthur pursed his lips for a moment, then disappeared into the trees. He’d lost one of his socks in the river, and his bare foot left a trail of wilted flora in his footsteps.
When Arthur returned, he held out a long walking stick, and they slowly hobbled forward, their still-dripping pajamas hanging loose off their bodies as they made their way uphill in the light of the rising sun, Bug trotting between them.
They were so close to the meadow now. Eva could feel it, and her heart seemed to crawl up into her throat. Beside her, Arthur’s breathing got more ragged. “Do you need to stop?” Eva pressed.
Arthur shook his head. “We keep going.”
Eva was torn between wanting to reach out and make amends with the forest around her and wanting to hide from whatever strange thing was chasing them through these woods. First the tent. Then the river. The branches that had folded themselves unnaturally into the mock of a woman on the bank.
A drop of water traced down Eva’s spine, drawing out a shiver. Something in these woods was festering like a rotten wound. Something, or someone, wanted to hurt them. Eva knew she was likely dehydrated, her mind fuzzy and full of fear, but she couldn’t help the way her thoughts spun over themselves, landing time and time again in the same impossible place:
The figure on the bank had called Arthurson.
“There.” Arthur pointed ahead.
As she leaned on her makeshift cane, Eva followed his gaze up a slight rise dotted with blue-violet flowers. There were more at the top, seemingly nestled in a bed of green. Eva’s heart quickened.
That has to be it.
More Little Lotties grew at her feet with every step, propelled into growth by the swell of her emotions. They hurried up the hill, her ankle throbbing. She didn’t care. They were almost there!
Her cheeks hurt from smiling, a bud of relief unfurling in her chest. But when Eva threw Arthur a grin, her excitement withered. Arthur marched with eyes half lidded, his dark hair sticking up in every direction. He didn’t look like himself. He didn’t walk like himself. Eva didn’t know how to explain it, but sometimes he seemed to slip away from her completely. It made her uneasy, and she couldn’t say exactly why.
Feeling her eyes, Arthur looked over. “Almost there,” he panted.
A lump formed in Eva’s throat as she reached out and grasped his hand. “Almost there.”
When they crested the hill, Eva’s jaw dropped. Arthur swore in quiet awe.
It was an artist’s palette. Wildflowers painted the ground in a vision of violet, gold, and blue. There was snakeroot and southern harebell, even the sunny pop of yellow spreading avens. But the crown jewel was the Lotties: They swayed in the wind, royal and delicate, their whisper of life reaching out to where Eva stood.
The honeyman found a garden of everlasting life.
Eva shook her father’s stories out of her head and limped toward the hive boxes peeping through the mass of blooms. Disbelief hooked behind her ribs as she twisted the hem of her shirt around her finger.
They’d actually found it.
“Those your dad’s?” Arthur asked, using his chin to indicate the hive boxes.
“Yes.” Eva’s vision softened with the sudden blur of tears. “It’s my mother’s design.” The floral pattern on these hive boxes, as well as on those of their other six apiaries, had been created as a nod to the delicate forget-me-nots on the side of her mother’s—and Eva’s—favorite teacup.
Arthur swayed a little, his arm brushing against hers. His skin was hot. Too hot. Eva turned to face him and sucked in a hard breath. He looked worse now than he had at the river. “You’re burning up,” she said.
“You’reburning up,” Arthur muttered.
They had to get him that honey, now.
Eva hobbled to the nearest hive box, wincing as she pulledoff the cover and set it and the walking stick down in the grass. Her skin tingled with anticipation. She knew they were both in a rough state, between the bites, the blisters, and the bruises, not to mention what appeared to be a quickly advancing infection from the injury on Arthur’s brow.
But this would make all of it worth it.
Her eyes locked with Arthur’s. “Ready?”
At his nod, Eva lifted the first frame out of the super, giddiness building in her chest.
