It was a thread-thin filament, barely visible against the magnetized soil, but it reached downward instead of hanging slack, and when I checked the gauge, two of the petals had brightened from their deathbed gray toward a healthy, beautiful pearl glow.
She was rallying.
I crouched over the ecosystem I'd built for her in my garden and allowed myself to hope. If she lived, if I could coax even one bloom out of her and propagate it, then the expedition would have produced something. It wouldn't bring back Moran or Voser. Nothing would. But if the Silver Princess lived and helped produce the medicine Professor Haldren believed it would, theyhadn't died for nothing. They would have died for life-saving medicine.
I was clinging to that.
"Are you talking to the plant again?" Gavon asked.
He was arranged on the garden bench in the morning sun, his splinted ankle propped on a cushion, looking like an advertisement for convalescence. He'd been released from the hospital the day after being admitted with instructions to rest, and he had embraced the prescription wholeheartedly.
"I'm not talking to it. I'm assessing it." I straightened and brushed the soil from my knees. "She's doing better, and it makes me feel a little less horrible today."
He looked confused. "Why is your day horrible?"
He was unbelievable.
"Did you forget? I'm visiting Moran's and Voser's families today, and you are coming with me."
I figured I could justly demand his presence. The position of an official paramour came with some strings attached, some responsibilities. He couldn't just enjoy the benefits without contributing anything other than satisfying my sexual needs.
Well, that was his primary job, but it wasn't the only one.
"I can't, Idrilia." He grimaced as he gestured at his ankle. "I can barely walk to the fountain. Three hours each way in a hover-car would finish me. Sorel said to keep it elevated."
"You can elevate it in the hover-car. We can have cushions brought."
"It's not only the ankle. What good would I be? I wouldn't know what to say."
"You wouldn't have to say anything. You'd just have to be there." I heard the frustration creeping into my voice. "I need you beside me so I'm not doing it alone."
"You won't be alone. You'll have Ursa, and the driver, and Elurion knows how many attendants." He reached for my hand,and his was warm and without callus and useless. "Darling, you're so much better at this than I am. You'll be magnificent, and I'd only be in the way. Truly, it's kinder to everyone if I stay."
He was so disgustingly good at dressing up excuses as consideration.
Why was I even disappointed?
Why was I still expecting things from him that I knew he couldn't deliver?
Why was I still hoping he would step up to the plate?
"Of course," I said, withdrawing my hand. "How inconsiderate of me not to realize that everyone would be better off without you there."
"Now don't be like that?—"
"I'm not being like anything. You've made an excellent case. Rest your ankle."
I turned back to the flower so he wouldn't see my face.
"The car is ready, Your Highness." Ursa stood in the garden doorway, and from the flatness of her expression I knew she'd heard at least the end of the exchange. "Shall I fetch the cushions for Lord Gavon's ankle, or will he be staying to guard the bench?"
Gavon found something fascinating in his glass of water.
"He's staying," I said. "Let's go."
The town where the porters' families lived was three hours south, a cluster of stone houses and slate roofs in the foothills, a village of goat herders, mountain guides and porters.
We went to Voser's house first.
