It would be, as long as the plants aren’t dying.
Sasha walked over to one of the floral arrangements,studying the drooping blooms with a frown. “What kind of flowers are these?”
“Xavier blossoms. They usually glow in response to emotions.” I stepped closer, stunned at how dull they looked. Something odd was going on within my court. Why hadn’t I noticed? “They’re normally incandescent during the festival.”
She reached out, her fingers hovering above the petals without touching them. Concern flickered across her face, and she pulled her hand back.
“The dining room,” I said, leading her onward. I was babbling now, desperate to fill the silence with anything other than my ridiculous laughter and conversation about dying plants. “It seats seventy for formal occasions, though we rarely use it to capacity. Most of the court prefers the smaller dining room across the hall.”
I stopped as we entered, taking in the enormous space. Golden everything, just as my mother had ordered when she’d renovated after abdicating the throne to me. Golden candelabras, golden trim on the ceiling, and golden inlay in the table that stretched the length of the room.
So much gold. Why hadn’t I seen how ostentatious it appeared before?
The chairs pulled themselves out as we approached, their backs featuring wooden spirits that shifted and danced within the grain. The table’s surface rippled like liquid gold, rearranging its inlay patterns to form welcoming spirals and flower motifs.
A big floral arrangement that looked half-dead sat in the middle of the long table.
“Does no one water them?” Sasha asked, moving toward the arrangement. “Or fertilize them? Basic plant care should include such things.”
“They’re indigenous to the fae world and thus, enhanced with our own magic,” I said, fighting another chuckle. “They’re supposed to be self-sustaining, drawing life-giving power from the court itself.”
Her dark eyes narrowed. “Then why are they dying?”
“I don’t know,” I said, a spurt of laughter shooting out of me that I did my best to control. “The question had been nagging at me for weeks now, ever since I first noticed some of the plantings in the greenhouse wilting. I assumed it was a temporary fluctuation in the court’s magic, something that would resolve itself. But it’s getting worse, and I have no idea why.”
“Hmm.” She studied the plants, moving around them to view them from all angles.
I found myself studying her instead, taking in the concentration on her face, the way she moved so carefully, and the intelligence in every glance. If only I knew what she was thinking, then I might understand the mind behind those cautious eyes.
More than that, however, I wanted to prove I was more than the giggling fool who’d embarrassed her at our wedding.
I wanted her to see the parts of me I hid behind smiles and courtly charm. Hopefully she wouldn’t see how unremarkable I truly was without them.
“The manor house is this way,” I said, gesturing toward a side corridor. “It’s adjacent to the castle but less formal. We prefer the privacy there rather than inside the main palace.”
“We?”
“My mother, Iberia, has a suite on the second floor.”
“Isee.”
I led her along a covered walkway lined with more drooping plants, into the smaller stone building beyond.
“The castle is for show, for ceremonies and formal audiences,” I said. “This is home.”
The first floor opened into a cozy sitting area, all comfortable chairs and warm lighting. Bookshelves lined one wall, and Sasha’s eyes caught on them immediately, her expression brightening for the first time since we’d arrived.
“You’re welcome to read anything you like,” I said. “The library here is mostly historical texts and magical theory, but if there’s something specific you want, I can have it brought from the castle collection.”
“Thank you.” The words sounded formal, but a touch of real appreciation shone beneath them.
I showed her the kitchen next, where the staff paused in their preparations to curtsy and bow. They called out greetings that made me chuckle involuntarily again. Fates, would it never stop?
They laughed as we left them behind, Sasha frowning back at the closed door before she shook her head and looked forward.
The greenhouse had been built into the back of the manor, a glass-enclosed space that should be bursting with life. Instead, more wilted plants greeted us, their leaves curling and browning at the edges.
Sasha’s frown deepened. “This is concerning.”
