I fold my arms with a scowl.
Not at all.
“I decline to answer that question.”
Will laughs and it’s sweeter than any fruit I’ve ever tasted.
“As you wish, my lady.”
Chapter Eleven
Mithian sits on the edge of the forest, the boughs forming a leafy gateway to a village that consists of barely more than two dozen buildings. Some have an abandoned quality, with boarded windows and misplaced bricks, clinging to life like a cluster of frozen shrubs in winter. In the center, there’s a well where a thin woman hoists a bucket with too much ease, like there’s barely a drop within. I hug my arms around my waist to shield myself from the frost that’s trapped at the bottom of this valley—so abruptly cold, I wonder if there’s magic at work—and peer toward a small bonfire at the far end of the street, near where an open-air blacksmith works in his forge. Beyond that, the fields hold shrunken wheat and a handful of cattle. Not enough to feed everyone, I’m sure.
It’s just like Pigeon said.
A rustle of anger runs down my spine.
Mithian is still part of the Kingdom of Alrick. It might be close to the border, on the cusp of the outlying mountains, but these people deserve just as much as we do in the citadel. How can Bastion let this be? Has he been here and seen how little they have? Is this whyhe was so worried when I brought it up the other day—because he knows and can’t do anything about it? Although…he did say that his mother disregards all his ideas.She’sthe one who fuels the rumors that these people are beyond help by hiding away instead of showing an ounce of leadership—a failure that wouldn’t be so stark if the king wasn’t also absent of late. But why? Has the queen barricaded herself behind castle walls to avoid seeing the truth of the kingdom in willful ignorance, or does she really believe that the people of the north are to be feared?
“Most of the people here are older,” I point out, and Will nods.
“That’s why my mum comes up here often. They can’t survive alone. I mean, sometimes a wagon makes it through the mountain pass, but the Kingdom of Senred can’t give too much without stepping on Alrick’s toes, and no one wants to go to war over an outlying village. They make do with scraps and support from Pigeon’s group.”
“I don’t understand why this has gone on for so long.”
I’m not even asking Will for an explanation. I simply can’t believe, for all her anxiety and paranoia, that Queen Fern would let her people suffer like this. If she craves peace and stability, surely that means for all. I know she’s been under a lot of pressure since the king’s health started worsening, but there must be something I’m missing. A piece of information that would help me understand her motivations.
Will presses the small of my back toward a bungalow with a long-petaled daisy engraved on the wooden doorframe.
“A big question. One to ponder later, after we’ve looked at these flowers you were so eager to see.”
Will holds open the door and I shove my worries to the side for now. This is why we came, and if my purchases will bolster this village, then I am ready to shop.
The wood-walled store is smaller than my own, with less than a third of the stock, but the reassuring aroma remains the same. I take a deep breath and scan the neat rows of flowers. There’s the common flora found in the forest: daffodils, crocuses, and daisies, but ona table in the far right corner next to a door leading to the rest of the house, I spy something special—a potted plant with an unusually long stem that supports a drooping orange flower and sprouts leaves from its head like messy emerald hair.
“Oh my gosh!” I say, and rush over. “Is this a crown imperial? Will, look!”
From the back room, a hunchbacked elderly man shuffles in and steadies himself with a wrinkled hand on the doorframe.
“It is indeed,” he says, his voice croaky from age. “A rare one.”
“I’ve only read about them in books before!”
Crown imperials are native to the Kingdom of Hemlor in the far south due to the land’s rocky mountains, way too far for my usual supply. I reach out a hand to inspect the leaves. The magic inside greets me with a boldness that common flowers wouldn’t dare. Power and nobility live within, ordering me to bow down and bask in its majesty. There’s a vividness to the orange petals that reminds me of the golden band Bash wears around his head for formal events. It’s rare, all right. Rare and royal.A perfect wedding gift.There are three weeks to go until the big day. If I keep it potted or plant it in my garden, then add some enchantments, it’ll certainly still be thriving by the ceremony. And ancient Hemlorian was one of the first languages Card mastered, so to be given this native flower…he would lose his mind.
The old man wobbles a smile and glances over my shoulder.
“Who have you brought to my shop, Willoh? Where have you been hiding her this whole time?”
I hear a chuckle, then Will is beside me, shaking the old man’s hand.
“Nice to see you again, Reed,” Will says. “This is Fliss, and I assume she’ll be wanting to take that flower off your hands.”
I pull away from the flower’s magic and clasp my hands around the crook of Will’s elbow. His promise of exotic flowers has not disappointed.
“Yes, please!” I say. “How often do you get deliveries like this?Do you know where to find more? I’ve heard they can be poisonous under certain conditions. I should plant it outside, right?”
Reed laughs, and it folds the wrinkles of his face like a newborn puppy.
