“I didn’t say there was. I’m documenting observable physiological responses to sustained exertion while carrying additional weight over varied terrain.”
His jaw clenched. “Victoria.”
“Yes?”
He opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. “It’s because you’re?—”
The silence stretched between us, filled with all the things he wasn’t saying and all the things I already knew.
He turned toward the tree line. “Let’s collect those samples.”
I stood still for a moment, my pen hovering above the page.
I didn’t need him to finish his sentence. I knew what the end of it was. I’d known for a while now, actually. The evidence had been accumulating for days. The flowers. The breakfast trays. The way he’d put himself between me and a bear without a single bit of hesitation. The way he looked at me when he thought I wasn’t paying attention.
I didn’t say any of this. I closed my notebook, tucked it into my pocket, and picked up my mop.
He glanced back at me, his expression unreadable.
I tucked the mop under my arm and followed him toward the tree line.
“I’ll be quick,” I said as I passed him and approached that area, crouching near a cluster of moss-covered stones. “We need to eliminate all variables.”
Feral stood a few feet away, his arms crossed on his chest. “We’re on a schedule.”
“Science doesn’t observe schedules.”
“I’m the king.”
“And I’m the queen.” I pulled out a sample vial and tucked a sprig of duskburst into it. “The queen needs five more samples. You can either help or watch.”
He grunted and stooped beside me, holding out his hand.
I handed him a vial.
He held it steady while I worked, anticipating what I’d need next without being asked and removing it from my pack. I enjoyed this quiet domestic side of him.
I noticed this detail too and added it to my internal list.
Acorn wandered through the underbrush nearby, occasionally surfacing to report on things of interest. A particularly large beetle. An abandoned bird’s nest. A mushroom he described as suspicious. Chittering away as he delivered these details.
The wolf who kneels in mud for her,he said,is either very wise or very sure.
“What’s he saying?” Feral asked.
I capped a vial and handed it to him to tuck into my kit. “He’s commenting favorably on your field assistant skills.”
“Are you sure?” Feral frowned Acorn’s way.
“Oh, very.” I walked over to the next location, a section of disturbed soil near the base of an old tree. My hands stilled when I found duskburst growing there. My first instinct was alarm. Was this more deliberate planting and evidence of the pattern I’d been building?
But then I stopped and crouched lower, studying the plants. They’d been buried too deep, their roots smothered under waterlogged soil and river rock. They’d also been positioned on the wrong side of the slope, which would give them too-little sun exposure. The drainage in this section wouldn’t sustain them. Everything about the placement contradicted basic horticultural principles.
I sat back on my heels and stared.
“What is it?” Feral asked from beside me.
“Duskburst.” I gestured to the plants, pointing out the issues I’d identified. “This is…”
