“Your Majesties.” A servant approached, dipping into a bow. “The first guests are being escorted to the gardens now. Shall we?—”
The gardener appeared at the entrance, his face pale. He spotted us and hurried over, leaning close to speak quietly. “Your Majesty, I’m sorry to interrupt, but some of the emotion-responsive flowers near the eastern path are showing stress. The petals are starting to wilt.”
Ice flooded my veins. “Already?”
“I noticed it a short time moments ago when I did my final check.” His voice dropped further. “It’s spreading. Not quickly, but steadily.”
“And the…guards?”
“Have not seen anything unusual.”
“Thank you for letting me know. Please do what you can to help revive them.”
He nodded and slipped through the growing crowd.
Sasha’s fingers dug into my arm. A glance down showed the same panic on her face that was shooting through me. Had our saboteur somehow slipped past our guards to the chamber below ground? They could be there right now, working their corruption while guests arrived and the festival began.
“We need to go,” Sasha said.
I turned to the nearest servant. “Continue greeting guests. Tell them we’ll join them shortly. We’re conducting a final ritual blessing for the gardens.”
“Of course, Your Majesty.”
We moved toward the doors, trying not to look like we were fleeing. Guests called greetings that I returned with automatic smiles, my mind already racing ahead to the hillside and what we might find in the underground chamber.
We’d just cleared the back entrance of the castle when my mother appeared at the garden path. She wore a gown I remembered from years ago, simple but elegant in deep blue, and she’d swept her hair back in a style that reminded me of festival nights from my childhood. She looked uncertain standing there, her hands clasped in front of her, nothing like the confident former queen who’d ruled this court for decades.
Everything in me seized. Anger surged first. She wasn’t supposed to be here. I’d sent her away. She’d betrayed my trust. But underneath that came relief so sharp it hurt, because she was my mother and part of me had been aching for her despite what she’d done.
“Dominic.” She paused when I did, not approaching too close, respecting the distance between us. “I know I shouldn’t have come back without permission, but I sensed the court was in danger.” Her voice stayed steady, but hereyes held something I’d never seen there before. Humility. “What can I do to help?”
Sasha’s hand found mine, squeezing.
I wanted to tell my mother to leave. That would protect me from whatever manipulation might be coming. But the flowers were dying and the festival was starting and we were running out of time to stop someone from destroying everything.
And I’d missed her.
“How did you know?” I asked.
“I’ve been tied to this court’s magic my entire life. When the emotional resonance started failing, I felt it.” She glanced toward the gardens, worry creasing her face. “There’s more to this than just wilting flowers, isn’t there?”
“Yes.” Sasha spoke before I could. “Someone’s been corrupting the court’s emotional magic for over a year. We believe they’re planning to complete a Grand Severance ritual tonight.”
My mother’s face went white. “That’s impossible. The Severance Arts were banned?—”
“But not forgotten.” I forced my voice to stay level. “We’ve been trying to catch them, but they keep slipping through our defenses.”
She looked between us, and I watched her process everything with genuine alarm on her face.
“I know something about emotional magic dampening,” she said. “I ran these festivals for years. I can sense plant distress the way you sense court politics.” She paused, meeting my eyes directly. “I’m not here to take over. I’m here to help, if you’ll let me.”
Suspicion rose immediately. Was this another attempt to control things? To position herself as the solution so I’d be grateful and bring her back?
But Sasha’s hand remained steady in mine, and I remembered what we’d learned together over the past weeks. Accepting help didn’t mean surrendering authority. Partnership didn’t equal weakness. And love could be imperfect and still valuable if I maintained boundaries.
“What do you know about strengthening emotion-responsive plants under attack?” I asked.
Relief flickered across my mother’s face. “Enough to keep them alive through the festival. If you want, I could stabilize them while you handle the rest.”
