Sam turned, silhouetted against the garden he couldn’t fully comprehend. “It feels peaceful. Like someone put real thought into making something beautiful just because it should exist.” He pushed his glasses up. “This must have taken incredible planning. All those plants, making sure they’d bloom at the same time, choosing varieties that work together…”
“Yes.” The word felt hollow.
“You’re really talented, Urien.” Sam’s smile was genuine. “I grow tomatoes in pots, and half of them split. You create entire gardens that make people stop and stare.”
The praise warmed something in Urien’s chest, but his dragon thrashed with frustration.He doesn’t see. Our declaration - he can’t see it. How can he know we chose him if he can’t see his name written in flowers?
But of course, the grand gesture required an aerial view that Sam didn’t have. Unless Urien shifted right here in the park, grabbed Samgently, and flew high enough for the pattern to emerge…
No. That would violate every council protocol and probably give Sam a heart attack.
The sun touched the horizon, spilling red across the sky. Sam stood among the flowers, oblivious to the declaration blooming at his feet.
Urien’s shoulders dropped.
“Are you okay?” Sam stepped closer, concern creasing his forehead. “You look…did I say something wrong?”
“No.” Urien forced himself to meet Sam’s eyes. “You said exactly what I hoped you’d…”
He stopped. That was a lie. He’d hoped Sam would somehow see the pattern, recognize his name, and understand what Urien was offering.
Sam looked uncertain for a moment, then, without warning, he closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around Urien’s waist.
The hug was quick, clearly impulsive, and slightly awkward. Sam’s headbarely reached Urien’s shoulder. His jumper smelled like coffee and vanilla, and his warmth soaked through Urien’s shirt where they pressed together.
Urien froze, afraid to move, afraid to breathe wrong and shatter the moment.
“Thank you.” Sam’s voice was muffled against Urien’s chest. “For sharing this with me.” He squeezed once, then stepped back, cheeks pink. “It’s the nicest thing anyone’s done in a while. Maybe ever.”
Our Treasure touched us willingly.
Urien’s dragon purred with bone-deep satisfaction. The heart stone blazed hot beneath his shirt, probably glowing through the fabric, but Sam had already turned back toward the garden.
“I should let you go,” Sam said, adjusting his glasses again. That nervous tell Urien had noted during their surveillance. “You probably have dinner plans or…”
The hug had lasted maybe five seconds. Sam’s warmth against his chest, the trust in that impulsive gesture, and the quiet “thank you for sharing this with me” should have felt like victory. And it did, gods it did.
But underneath the joy, there was a definite ache. Sam had loved the garden without understanding it, had admired the colors and completely missed the declaration written in living flowers because humans didn’t have wings, and couldn’t see the world the way dragons did.
A century of courtship tradition, thousands of years of dragon culture, and it all fell flat because Urien had forgotten the most basic truth - Sam wasn’t like them – and he’d never be like them, even if he accepted the bond. Urien had built something beautiful in a language their Treasure couldn’t read, and Sam’s kindness somehow made the failure hurt worse. But even knowing that, Urien wasn’t ready for the evening to end.
“Stay.” The word escaped before Urien could stop it. “Please. Until the light fades completely.”
Sam smiled, soft and surprised. “Yeah. Okay.”
They stood together as the sun disappeared, painting the garden in shades of violet and shadow. Sam pointed out how different flowers closed at different times, asked questions about care and maintenance, and laughed when Urien admitted he’d bribed the council with playground repairs.
The gesture might have failed. Sam hadn’t seen his name written in blooms. But standing beside their Treasure while he admired their work, feeling the warmth of his impulsive hug still pressed against Urien’s chest - it was precious and definitely worth three days of planting.
Chapter Sixteen
Sam
“Earth to Samuel.” Maya waved a hand in front of his face. “The machine is beeping. It has been for, like, thirty seconds.”
“Right. Sorry.” He dumped the burnt shot and started over, but his thoughts drifted back to the garden. Those crimson salvias against the gold marigolds… The way Urien had looked at him when Sam asked what else he should see in the design… The espresso machine beeped again.
“Okay, that’s it.” Maya grabbed the portafilter from his hands. “You’ve been useless all morning. What happened?”
