Chapter 35
Evan
The old stairs groaned beneath my boots. I slid my fingers along the smooth, aged wood of the railing, tracing grooves worn deep from countless trips up and down. A strange nostalgia welled within me, linked to the floral fragrance below and memories of days spent here that were almost my own.
The shop was filled with evening sunlight and scented with fresh blooms, a mixture I was beginning to recognize.
Although the familiar summer smells were rich and plentiful, they were mixed with more exotic fragrances from blossoms unique to this world—flowers with petals in colors I had never seen before.
I stepped onto the shop floor and drifted toward the entrance, drawn by the patch of bright sunshine. A hanging arrangement from a beam seemed neglected, with drooping stems and browned leaves hidden among healthier ones. It needed tending.
I moved on instinct, recalling skills owned not by me but by this body, as I was drawn to fix a stray stem. I scanned the cluttered workbench across the room, searching for pruning shears and a copper watering can.
“They are sad little things, aren’t they?” Genevieve’s soft words startled me. I turned around to see her coming out of the back room, wiping her hands on her apron as she stepped beside me. She studied the arrangement I was still fixing, her head tilting as she judged the drooping stems.
“It brings me shame.” She clasped her hands before her. “My magic can coax them open, bring forth the bloom, but finding the moments to prune and tidy…” She let out a soft sigh. “There’s never enough time.”
“Doesn’t matter the world, does it? There’s never enough time.” I once wished for extra hours back when I was starting at Morrison they cannot abide being left dry for long, nor can they sit in soaking roots. They ask for patience.”
Her trowel loosened the soil around the base of one of the plants.
“Sometimes it takes years for them to be secure enough to offer their bloom, their true fragrance. And they need shaping.” She picked up a small pair of shears, indicating an overgrown stem.
“Left untended, they become wild, leggy, but pruning helps them grow strong and full, ready to bloom when the time is right.”
She paused and set the shears down on the edge of the planter.
“Your life now, Evan… is like this jasmine. It needs consistent nurturing and the right conditions to thrive. Gregory, your alpha, will offer shelter and strength, like the sun and sturdy soil. But the watering, the cultivating, the shaping of how you grow…” She gestured between me and the plants.
“That must come from you. You must take hold and guide your own development. You cannot rely solely on your dragon; you must look to your own roots, learn the shape you wish to take.”
She handed me the small watering can. “Here. The soil should be moist but not sodden. Feel it first.”
The dirt was dry and crumbly beneath my fingers. I tipped the can, letting cool water darken the soil around the base of the first plant as it soaked in.
Genevieve pointed to a yellowing leaf near the bottom. “And that one, it’s spent. Make a clean snip at the base.” I picked up the shears she’d indicated and trimmed the leaf away.
I watered each jasmine plant and snipped any spent leaves until the planter seemed cared for once more. Genevieve adjusted a few stems I’d missed, nodding her approval at the work.
We moved through the shop, a comfortable silence settling between us as we cared for other pots, tidied stray petals, and organized displays.
I worked on a wilting fern near the door, then turned my focus to a collection of herbs on the windowsill that needed deadheading.
Genevieve hummed softly as she rearranged a display of dried flowers, creating more space between the crowded stems. The simple work was a calm meditation after the chaos of the last few days.
The peace was shattered when the shop door burst open, banging against the interior wall and sending the bell above into a frantic jingle.
“EVAN!”
I’d just set down a pot of sage when Lyra rushed in, a blur of pink dress and flying ribbons, launching herself at me. She wrapped her arms around me in a tight embrace. Caught off guard, I smiled and hugged her back, maybe a little harder than necessary.
She released me and stepped back, catching her breath before planting her hands on her hips, her lower lip jutting in a pout.
“When were you going to tell me you returned?” The sparkle in her eyes belied any real anger.
“Gregory told me you were here when I ran into him in the square, so I headed straight here after dropping Finn. I had to see you before Gregory could take you again!”
I shook my head at her dramatics. “It’s been… hectic. I passed out cold after opening a portal to get us back here.”
Lyra shrieked, clapping her hands. “You did it! You used your magic! Oh, my best friend is all-powerful!”
I laughed. “Wouldn’t go that far.”
She bounced on her toes, then stilled as she sobered. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “So… Harren is back too, then? Is he alright?”
The question caught me off guard. My smile died, and I pressed my lips together. The small shears slipped from my clumsy grip, clattering onto the stone floor. I bent to retrieve them and cleaned the dirt off my pants.
Lyra cocked her head to the side and took a small step closer. “Evan? Is something wrong?”
“Yes—I mean no.” From across the shop, Genevieve cleared her throat beside the fern, a delicate warning. She knew, I realized instantly, and the knowledge didn’t surprise me. “He’s fine. Harren needed to make a stop. In Crowedge.”
Lyra’s hopeful expression dimmed, disappointment dousing the earlier brightness, and her ginger cookie scent went flat. “Oh.” She worried her lower lip. “He’ll miss all the preparations, then,” she whispered.
“Miss what?” I set the shears on the workbench beside us.
Genevieve paused her humming. “Celeste’s Blessing at the end of the week.”
“What’s that?”
Lyra wrinkled her nose. “It’s when new mates make their bond official before the village, and we celebrate them. Also…” she added as her cheeks flushed, “we pray for blessings on those who might find their mates in the coming year.”
“Is that appropriate right now?” I glanced toward the window. “Mordaine and the Empire are out there…”
Genevieve set down her dusting cloth. “That is why it is needed. More so now. When shadows gather, we must celebrate the bonds that hold us together, lift our spirits, and show gratitude to the goddess for the hope we still have.”
An image of Harren flashed in my mind, miserable and alone. His bitterness, his denial about being an omega, and his mate, Nicolai, was a tangled mess I wouldn’t wish on anyone, especially not Lyra. I offered her a small, apologetic smile she couldn’t possibly understand.
Lyra mustered her strength, shaking off her disappointment about Harren, and her bright energy reignited in a rush. “Well, then! I want you at my house by noon on the day of the celebration so I can get you ready. It’s your first Blessing!”
The shop bell jangled again as the door opened and closed. Gregory stood there, filling the entryway, and his presence instantly altered the atmosphere. Beneath his usual sandalwood and smoke, a sharp, acrid note clung to him, like scorched wood—a lingering trace of something he was trying to mask.
Lyra scoffed, turning to confront him. “Ugh, couldn’t you have taken longer with Father and Uncle William?”
Gregory stepped further into the shop, a lazy smirk touching his lips as he walked toward me. “Couldn’t risk it. Figured you’d try to snatch Evan away the second my back was turned.”
“As if!”
“Gregory.” Genevieve’s words, laced with amused patience, cut through their banter. “You’ll need to be ready for the celebration as well. Best not keep your mate waiting, lest he run off before the Celeste Blessing.”
“Well, I should go, then,” Lyra announced, breaking the moment. “I’ll be waiting for you on Blessing Day, Evan. See you at noon!” She gave me another swift, tight hug before bustling out the door. “Toodles.”
Gregory closed the distance between us. As he bent to press a soft kiss to the top of my head, I closed my eyes, leaning into the contact before drifting back.
“Give me a bit before we leave.” I moved the shears and watering can back onto the workbench. Once they were in their place, I faced Genevieve again, hesitating. “Would it… be okay if I came back? To work here sometimes?”
Genevieve’s features softened, and she reached out to pat my arm.
“Evan, this door was never closed to you.” Her attention flicked past me to Gregory, who had already started to scowl by the door.
“In fact, I’ll need you here tomorrow morning, bright and early.
With the Blessing in three days, the entire village needs to be decorated. ”
Her look was kind as she faced me, but her words held a firm challenge, clearly daring Gregory to object. “I’ll keep him safe, Alpha. And I need the extra hands.”
Relief flooded me. “Thank you, Genevieve. I’ll be here.”
“Go on now, go.” She motioned toward the door, shooing us out.