“There! See!” Magdala yelled, pointing at him. “You’re frightening Anton!”
Shaking his head, Asherton pulled his hands from the dirt. “GOT IT!” he exclaimed, triumphant. His face alight with joy and curiosity, his fingernails black with soil, Asherton held out a little naked pink mole. He smiled and Magdala’s anger fled, her renegade heart reaching out to his wildness again, envious and yearning.
She caught her breath, stunned, and stepped away from him. There was no air in the greenhouse. No air on this whole cursed island, because why was Asherton beginning to remind her of the breeze on the Wildlands?
The mole scraped at his palm with scoop-shaped paws and snuffled at the cracks between his fingers. It reminded Magdala of a golden raisin. “What is that?” she asked, flustered.
“A rooter,” Asherton replied. “They eat roots, and it's been chewing its way through Rufus here for a few days.”
A duchess would be revolted, and a royal guard indifferent, but maybe Asherton was right and she wasn’t either of those things.
“Touch it, Mags. Its skin is like velvet.”
Gingerly, Magdala ran her finger down the mole’s back. Its skinwaslike velvet, and a knot in her chest eased. She looked up at Asherton in alarm.
He smiled. “It gives off a calming pheromone. I should give you six or seven of these to carry in your pockets at all times.”
Magdala furrowed her brow. “I’m surprised people don’t hunt them.”
“Oh, they do,” he said, slipping the mole into his chest pocket. “And they press them and eat them.”
Magdala wrinkled her nose. “Do you?”
“Oh, yes,” Asherton replied. “Live, actually. I just pop them in my mouth and chew them up, bones and all.”
Magdala rolled her eyes. “You don’t even use proper mouse traps in the house.”
“And how do you catch mice, Mags?” he asked. “Do you drizzle them in honey and let the cat chase them? Is it more fun for you, watching them run for their lives?”
“Stars above,” Magdala groaned. “You’re relentless.”
A warm rain dappled her shoulders as Magdala followed Asherton out of the greenhouse and across the lawn. Anton skipped behind her, spider-like. Thunder rumbled over the sea.
Zephyr was waist-deep in the nearest pond, and Asherton joined him, splashing in without a thought for his trousers. Magdala opened her mouth to object, but shut it on a groan.
The prince and the immortal bent over a carpet of water clover and discussed some species of dragonfly nymph.Magdala settled under a weeping willow and let Anton climb into her lap. Raindrops bloomed across the surface of the water.
“Should we reintroduce bloombudders?” Zephyr asked Asherton quietly. “They thrived in the other pond, but not here. I wondered if we tried to plant some alicious algae, it would give them something to feed on.”
Asherton glanced at a heron wading in the shallows not an arm’s length away. “Or maybe someone is having them for lunch. Is that it, Wendell?” He turned toward the bird, who looked faintly guilty. “Are you snacking on our bloombudder frogs?”
“He doesn’t eat them in the other pond,” Zephyr muttered.
“No, but this is Wendell’s favorite restaurant. He’s loyal. One doesn’t just hop over to a rival cafe, you know. Besides, Wendell is a proper gentleman, and the other pond is distinctly in the bad part of the island. He would never be seen there; what would Matilda think?”
“Matilda is a heron as well, and so I doubt she cares.”
“Matilda is a proper lady,” Asherton said, and he shot Magdala a cunning look. “She would never keep terrible secrets and play games with men who have been so very polite to her.”
Magdala chuffed. “Oh, please …”
“If Matilda wanted to shoot Wendell, she would just do it! To his face, instead of sneaking about and playing games.”
Zephyr cocked an eyebrow at Asherton, but the prince was busy lifting a turtle from the mud. It was the size of hishand, with a shell that resembled stained glass. “Want to see, Mags?” he called.
“No, thank you,” she lied. She did very much want to see the turtle, but she didn’t want to be close to Asherton. She didn’t like the warmth her heart traitorously spread through her when he smiled.
“The last tenant at Elegy ruined these ponds,” Asherton said over his shoulder to Magdala. She stiffened. “He desecrated the native wildlife and introduced invasive species. Fortunately, Wendell here has been helping us cleanse out the invaders and get the rightful inhabitants home again.”
