“You’re up early,” I said, my voice rough.
Sasha glanced over her shoulder, a smile crossing her face. “So are you. How did you sleep?”
“Not particularly well.” I moved closer, watching her trace the curve of a frond with one fingertip. “You?”
“About the same.” She turned to face me fully, her hands dropping to her sides. “Are you all right?”
The question sounded simple, but the concern in her eyes set off a dull throb beneath my sternum. “I will be.”
She nodded, understanding flickering across herface. Neither of us needed to rehash yesterday’s pain. Not when there was still work to be done.
I gestured to the fern. “It’s responding to you.”
“Only a little.” She touched another branch, coaxing it to unfold. “It wants to live. That’s what I’m sensing. The desire for growth is still there, just buried under whatever’s dampening the connection to the court’s magic.”
Savory made a soft sound from her perch.
Sasha’s smile widened. “She says plants mirror the emotions around them. This one is picking up hope.”
“Smart bird.”
“Don’t tell her that. Her ego is already insufferable.”
I laughed and waited until she’d finished before asking if she’d like to go downstairs for breakfast.
The dining room was empty when we arrived. Chairs magically slid back, and we sat.
Staff soon arrived, guiding platters of food to the table. They’d been instructed to throw everything away and start with fresh ingredients. The meal was simpler than usual, just bread, eggs, and fresh fruit, but I didn’t mind. At least we could eat without worrying about involuntary giggling.
As she ate, Sasha laid her notebook open on the table, showing me maps of the castle grounds and botanical references. She’d even sketched rough diagrams of the gardens, marking areas with the heaviest wilting.
I contributed what I knew about court layout, magical theory, and festival traditions while she took notes. Savory positioned herself on the back of an empty chair, observing both the room and us.
“The dampening feels different from your mother’s spell,” Sasha said, tapping her pencil against her notebook. “Like it’s been here longer.”
I considered that, reaching for my tea. “So we’re looking for something other than recent sabotage.”
“Exactly.” She flipped to a fresh page. “Here’s what I’m thinking. If I use my plant magic while you channel fae emotional energy, we could create a sort of magical contrast to map which areas show the strongest dampening effect.”
“A magical signature map,” I said, warming to the idea. “We can test whether our combined magic can temporarily revive plants and see how long the effect lasts.”
“And track the pattern of decay.” Her eyes lit up the way they always did when she was solving a problem. “If we can identify where the dampening is strongest, that might give us clues about where it’s coming from.”
I loved the methodical way her mind worked. “You approach this like a military campaign.”
“Mysteries are just puzzles with higher stakes.” She shrugged, not looking up from her notes. “The methodology is the same.”
I leaned forward to examine her diagrams more closely. “Your handwriting is beautiful. Even your investigation planning looks elegant.”
Color brightened her cheeks. “Focus, Your Majesty.”
“I am focused.” I grinned. “Just not necessarily on the plants.”
She shot me a look that was trying to be stern, but she couldn’t hide her smile.
We spent the next hour mapping out our investigation in detail. Historical research first. I remembered festival archives in the library going back centuries. We’d cross-reference any similar incidents, look for patterns in court staff, study recent magical events, and even weather patterns.
“We should check for records of emotional dampening spells,” Sasha said, making another note.
