I’m surprised she’d ask. “Sure.”
With a flick of her fingers, the wards part and allow me to cross over into the grounds. “Were you going… jogging as well?” I’m unsure what that means.
“I was on my way to tend to my garden.”
This could be my chance to get a look inside and see if I can find that flower myself. “Arlo’s told me stories about this garden of yours. He’s said it’s the finest garden in all the realms.”
She flushes. “He isn’t wrong. The garden has been in my family for generations. Would you like to see it?”
“Of course.”
Patricia leads the way to the greenhouse. At her approach, roots and vines and ivy recede to reveal a doorway. I doubt I’d be able to enter without her present. The air inside is thick with the sweet scent of flowers and plants. Many kinds of trees reach toward the domed ceiling, and plants climb up the walls.
“It must take great skill with magic to ensure all these plants can coexist together,” I say, stroking the petals of a bright red flower.
“Indeed it does. My mother wouldn’t let me inherit the garden until she was confident I was ready.”
One plant catches my eye. It’s a single flower, encased in a glass jar. It hasn’t bloomed yet. “Is this one new?”
“Ah, yes!” She bustles over and lifts the jar. The sweetest scent caresses my nose, and tension I didn’t know I was carrying bleeds from my shoulders. This flower’s scent feels like sinking into a hot spring on a cold day. Patricia gives me a knowing smile. “It’s a lunar flower. It blooms only at night beneath the moon. Ulfhednar are supposed to find it quite calming.”
I inhale another lungful of the flower and sigh. “It is.” This must be the flower Arlo needs for his potion. It would be so easyto reach out and take it, but she’d surely notice. I’d have to come back in the night and—
“Gunnar?” Patricia’s voice makes me lurch away from the flower. “What are your favorite flowers? I’d love to make bouquets for you and Arlo on your special day.”
Gods, why must she make such a kind offer whilst I’m over here plotting to rob her?
I scratch the back of my neck. “I’m unsure. Can’t say I’m familiar with flowers.”
“Arlo loves calla lilies. Have a look about. Let me know if you see something that catches your eye.”
I’m at a loss for where to start. How am I to choose from so many flowers?
Patricia keeps herself busy at a workbench, assembling different flower arrangements and humming while she works.
A burst of red flowers bloom from a bush to my right. I lean in for a sniff and linger, enjoying the sweet floral notes. “What’s this?”
She turns. “Those are roses. A classic romantic flower.”
I give the rose bush another sniff. “I like them.”
“Splendid! Roses go wonderfully with calla lilies. These will make beautiful arrangements for your wedding!”
Guilt makes it difficult to appreciate the roses’ sweet scent. I pull my hand away from them and wince as something sharp snags my skin. A bead of blood surfaces and I lick away the droplet, surprised by how much it stings.
“For such a romantic flower, it’s quite dangerous.”
“Ah, love can hurt. It blooms bright and beautiful, but it can cut.” She carefully snips the roses from the bush.
A sigh escapes me. “Aye. I know.”
I regret speaking when she pauses to look at me, sympathy tugging her brows down. “Oh dear, so do I.”
I look away, feigning interest in a bee that buzzes around one of the roses. “Ah.”
She’s quiet for a moment, taking the roses to her bench. She clears her throat. “Lunar flowers were my Frank’s favorite flower. It’s why I searched for so long to find one. He always wanted to see one for himself, but he… well, he got sick a few years ago.”
It takes effort to swallow as a familiar ache takes hold of me. “I’m sorry.”
