“Out of time for what?” I say, not understanding how any of these fit together. “How does my opening the gates for this kingdom have anything to do with him being sick?” A pained expression crosses his face as he hesitates, making me wonder what consistently makes him look so tortured. He takes a seat on the bench, gesturing for me to follow. Resting his elbows on his knees, hands clasped under his chin, he turns to tell me.
“The king is sick. It’s a curse. Every king who rules has the misfortune of living with it. Widowsbloom contains the only remedy capable of sustaining his life.” I should feel shocked, furious, outraged that the fate of this kingdom, of Kael, of everything I’ve been literally dragged into, is rooted in something so deeply selfish. But I don’t. Instead, I feel a dull, bitter understanding. He’s a coward.
“Kael told me that widowsbloom is poisonous, though?” I ask.
“It is. To everyone except the one with a king’s mark.”
“How much time has he got left?” is all I bring myself to ask. Rowan casts a glance my way as if surprised I’m not more shocked at his words.
“I couldn’t say, but with the threats he was making today…weeks, maybe?”
“What threats did he make?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“I need to know what’s at stake here.” He lets out a long sigh, clearly deciding that withholding information won’t work for long.
“For every day that you do not come up with a solution,” he huffs, “he’s taking one of my knights.”
“What?”
“One knight will die each day there is no answer.” The cruelty of it makes my face turn sour. How can a man sit on his throne and threaten the very people that honour and defend him? Then I’m hit with a realisation, not only do I have my life and Kael at stake here. I now have Rowan’s knights, whose blood would entirely be on my hands if I fail.
“He can’t do that. Surely there’s a way around this?” I stutter out in a panic. “Why can’t you all just decide to overrule him, let him die?”
“That’s not how this works, Elodie,” he says, his voice sounding defeated. “Elodie, what are you doing?” He reaches to grab my arm, stopping me from moving.
“The king has decided, and I’m forced to do precisely what he wants. I won’t stop until I figure this out.” I pull my arm away and return to the glasshouse, leaving no chance for him to object. The door slams shut behind me as I head to the workbench, finding Pip still munching away on his leaves. Moments later, Rowan follows behind me. I don’t turn to look at him, keeping my mind focused.
“I’m not here to force your hand,” Rowan says, his hands up in the air.
“You don’t need to be here. It’s fine.”
“Well, I’m here anyway. It’ll get dark soon. I’m not leaving you here alone.”
“Fine.” I flip through the notebook that I started writing myself, learning the variables of the glasshouse, jotting down temperatures, soil acidity, mineral contents. I think I’m half hoping the mess of notes somehow jumbles together to form an answer. So far, no luck. Rowan takes a seat beside me, taking off his heavy chest plate of armour with a groan.
“I’ll be able to check if the seed has cracked soon, to see if it’s germinated,” I say, but he just gives me a confused look.
“So who taught you to do all this?” I’m surprised by the genuine interest in his tone.
“Well, I studied it mostly, got a degree, and then I found a junior botanical job. A close friend that I worked with, Sam, he taught me a lot also, helped me learn more than my studies ever could,” I say, smiling at the thought of home. “He’s the one who taught me chess too,” I say.
“Sam sounds like he was more than a friend to me,” Rowan says, a tone of jealousy slipping into his voice. I give him a stare before replying,
“It was never like that with Sam. We were just good friends. He looked after me like a brother,” I say, honestly. If only I could speak to him now and have his help in some way. I bet he could figure this out. I should have said yes when he asked me if I wanted him to take on the job of clearing the overgrowth. Hindsight’s a bitch.
“You smile whenever you say his name,” Rowan mutters.
“I smile at a lot of things, Warden. What’s your point?”
“My point is that you do it subconsciously.”
I fold my arms, turning towards him, “Maybe I’m just a pleasant person.”
“Not when you’re annoyed.”
“Is that so?” I tilt my head, deciding to bite. “You seem very observant for someone who pretends not to notice things.”
