“Oh. Wonderful,” Lady Edwina said. She returned to her stones. “The omens are interesting this morning, I see a viridian triangle crossing a sorrowful crescent. This is a sign of?—”
“Sweat,” Lord Turren said, tugging his napkin out from beneath her stones and dabbing his forehead. “True villains perspire.”
She peered at the stones before slanting her gaze at him. “Or when one wears too many layers.”
Lady Kenneth choked on her tea. Sasha passed her a napkin, her gaze innocent.
When Sasha’s hand slid into mine beneath the table, the emotion-responsive flowers along the walls perked up.Their petals opened further when she leaned into my shoulder to reach the honey.
She’d only sipped her primwort and took a bite of pastry. Her smile curved, and she closed her eyes. I remembered exactly how she’d looked when she’d moaned over cakes not long after arriving. Breakfast with this witch might be dangerous.
“We should get started,” she said once we’d finished. Her gaze flicked to the window and the gardens beyond. “We’ve got a lot to do before sundown.”
I rose. “Enjoy your morning. If anyone asks, the theme for this year’s festival is adaptable brilliance.” My voice carried down the table, but a few faces sharpened the way I needed them to. “And we will all be brilliant.”
The morning dissolved into organized chaos. We split up the moment we left the dining room, Sasha heading for the greenhouse with Lady Kenneth to arrange the orchids for display, while I met with the gardener and his team in the courtyard to coordinate placement of the rest of the plants he’d kept secure overnight.
“These first,” I said, gesturing to the crates mounded in the back of one of the carts. “Position them near the main gathering areas to gather the strongest emotional resonance.”
The gardener nodded, directing assistants to lift the first container. “And the moonbells, Your Majesty?”
“Secondary paths. We need beauty everywhere, not just the obvious spaces.” I scanned the garden layout in my mind. “Anyone approaching the hillside entrance should walk through what feels like a blooming dream. Make it impossible to move through the gardens without encountering something alive and thriving.”
By mid-morning, the entire court had joined the effort.Lord Primrose and Lady Daphnie were weaving ribbons through arbors while composing increasingly absurd poetry about floral devotion to each other. Lady Featherby handed out protective charms and energy tonics to anyone who looked tired. Even Lord Turren appeared, digging in the soil with the same intensity he usually saved for his reflection.
“The purple blooms need better contrast,” he called out, gesturing dramatically to the staff working under his direction. “Villains understand aesthetics.”
Sasha exited the greenhouse, soil streaking her gown and her hair falling loose from its braid. She looked exhausted and beautiful and completely focused. When she caught my eye across the garden, her smile flashed quickly before she turned back to the ferns she was coaxing into their new positions.
Her hands moved over the leaves, magic flowing from her fingertips. The plants responded, their roots settling into the soil as if they’d been there for seasons. She’d stopped dismissing her gift. Now she used it with the same confidence she brought to tactical planning.
We worked all morning. Staff brought food to the gardens for lunch, and we ate quickly. Sasha and I crossed paths a dozen times, coordinating plant placement and adding magic to make sure the plants thrived.
“The emotion-responsive ones need more space,” she said, marking positions on a rough map she’d sketched. “If they’re too close together, their magical signatures will interfere.”
“What about clustering them near the fountain?” I said. “The water’s movement creates natural emotional flow.”
She considered, then nodded. “That could work. We’ll also need to?—”
“Offset the taller varieties toward the back,” I said with a smile. “I know.”
Her own smile bloomed. “We’re getting good at this.”
“We are.”
By afternoon, my shoulders ached and my tunic had been abandoned hours ago. I’d rolled my sleeves up, and I was sure my hair stood up in all sorts of odd directions. The gardens looked better than they I’d expected, considering we’d essentially rebuilt them in a single day. Vibrant blooms lined every path. Decorative vines wound through arbors. The most emotion-responsive plants had been clustered in strategic positions, ready to pulse with color when the celebration began.
I’d positioned guards throughout the gardens, their presence disguised by illusion magic that made them look like decorative statues.
The sun had started to set when Sasha found me near the fountain, directing the final placement of a flat of rose bushes.
“We need to wash and change,” she said.
I glanced toward the sky. The first part of the festival would begin at sunset, when the stars appeared and the emotion-responsive flowers would glow the brightest. Less than two hours.
I straightened, wincing when my back protested. “Alright.”
We hurried back to our suite, passing servants carrying last-minute decorations and lords and ladies already dressed in their festival clothing. The hallways buzzed with anticipation, the air itself almost humming with building magical energy.
