But something is off.
The leaves feel unnatural, the petals curving inwards rather than outward towards the light.
If they were doing so many tests, growing this Widowsbloom repeatedly, they must have had a supply of seeds. And I doubt they’d keep it out in the open, especially not out here where there were rotting plants. I glance back over my shoulder, spotting Thomas sitting on the bench outside the glasshouse. He isn’t looking at me, watching the surroundings instead. Edging out the back door, I make my way to the knight.
“Morning, Thomas.”
“Morning, Miss,” I roll my eyes at his formality before taking a seat next to him.
The bench is large.
You could easily get another person between us, but he shuffles slightly anyway.
“Do you know where they archived the cultivation materials?” He looks at me as if I had just spoke another language.
“Seeds… where did they keep their seeds?” I ask.
“I’m not sure, miss. Sorry,” I blow out a breath at his response, staring at the forest ahead.
“But,” he says. “There’s a cold store beneath the glasshouse. It hasn’t been opened in years. You could try there?”
“That sounds promising. Would you be able to show me where, please?”
“Sure.” He stands, walking back round the glasshouse, and I follow him through to the far side. There is a section of floor where the stone appears discoloured, a seam cut into it, almost invisible if you weren’t looking for it. He bends and lifts the stone, revealing a wooden staircase leading into darkness. He gestures for me to enter, tilting his head towards the hole in the floor.
The room turns a warm orange as I descend. I’m not entirely sure how, but I’m just glad it’s not pitch black. Sure enough, there are rows upon rows of seeds in small paper bags, each meticulously labelled. Wooden shelves line the walls from floor to ceiling, each stacked with jars, cloth, and shallow trays. Some jars are filled with seeds, a wax cover over the top. Others are in glass vials stoppered tight with cork and twine. There is no clutter like there was upstairs. In fact, the place is pristine. Perfectly organised. I scan the area labelled ‘flowers’ until I find it.
Widowsbloom seeds.
They sit in a glass jar, pale as bone. For a moment, I just stare at them. They look ordinary. Too small to be something an entire kingdom relies on. I reach for the jar, it’s lighter than I thought it would be. My stomach tightens. I tilt it gently, the seeds sliding against the glass.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
That’s it.
And then I realise what the catch is. And why this kingdom seems to have lost all hope.
There are only four seeds left.
Four chances of survival.
“Where’s the High Warden?” I ask, my voice coming off a little shorter than I planned. Thomas looks down at me as I climb back up the staircase, closing the door with a slam.
“Is everything okay, Miss?” Thomas asks me, his eyes wide.
“This flower that’s so important to your people, is it called Widowsbloom?” I ask, my hands shaking at my sides.
“That’s the one, miss. The one the butterflies need.” I furrow my brow, pushing all the butterfly nonsense to the back of my mind.
“There are four seeds left, Thomas. Four.”
