Chapter 23
V ada doesn’t leave my side once the Unseelie King departs.
Even when I went to the restroom earlier, she stood just outside the door like a friend would if the lock didn’t work.
Sleeping while being watched was worse and led to a fitful night with little rest for either of us.
It didn’t help that she insisted I use the king’s bed.
Lying where I know he’s slept, surrounded by his scent, was distracting in many ways.
I worry that she plans to keep me locked in the room all day, but thankfully, she decides after breakfast that it’s safe enough to let me accompany her to her garden and workroom.
Even better, she lets me help her, with the excuse that it may be good for the plants.
And while I’ve never minded a little dirt, the real benefit is keeping my mind and body busy.
In addition to being an exceptional healer, Vada has an affinity for growing things. “All life is connected,” she tells me. “To grow and nurture a plant is not so different from urging a wound to heal or illness to abate.”
“The king must trust you a great deal,” I observe after she orders a guard to go back and watch the honing point to wait for information from the front.
The stern expression she gave the guard smooths into something motherly.
She digs her weathered hands into the dirt with a sigh, her wings giving a little flutter at her back, catching the light and showering the ground in a kaleidoscope of color.
“I hope I have earned as much after all these years.” She wiggles her long fingers.
“Yes, this is just right,” she says. “Pass me that seedling.”
Carefully, I lift the small clay pot that holds the sprouting plant and bring it over.
“You’ve known him a long time?” I venture.
“Oh yes,” she says. “Since he was a youth. Come and sit by me.” She pats the earth. “I want you to plant this one.”
My outfit today is much simpler than the night before: loose black pants and a flowing purple tunic that fit like a dream and moves even better. It helps that I don’t have to worry about staining as much either, as I kneel in the soil, sitting on my legs at Vada’s side.
This particular garden is offset from the main gorge.
It may once have been a shallow pond in a tributary that flowed into the gorge itself.
But now it’s dry, other than the water that Vada and her fellow healers judicially apply to the plants that fill the oblong space.
Being close to ground level, the central portion gets a good bit of light, and the edges remain mostly shaded, allowing for a variety of plants—all precious, all difficult to grow with the land so weak.
Yet each one is necessary for the potions and salves that the healers use to treat their wounded, of which there are many these days.
That none have yet returned from the front in need of healing, those traveling with the warriors were unable to provide could be good… or terrible. Only time will tell.
Vada pulls back the loose soil and create a little hole for the plant. A healer getting dirt under their nails still hits me strangely, maybe even more so than her wings, claws, and unique eyes, but I try to push those thoughts aside.
“Put it just here,” she says, “then gently pack the soil back around it.”
I do as instructed and am about to sit back and dust off my hands when Vada places her hands on mine, holding them against the soil.
“Speak to it,” she says.
To a plant? I dart a hesitant glance her way. “What am I supposed to say?”
“Encourage it. Try to feel its presence. See if it responds to your spirit.”
It sounds like something my grandmother would have said when she was alive.
She was very into gardening and her precious plants.
Her yard was one big lively garden, and the interior of her home much the same, just with roots contained to pots and baskets.
In many ways, she embodied the spirit of the coven and the witches of old, even though she had no magic save the ability to see fae.
Plants, she said, were a source of magic in themselves, one that we were all too quick to forget.
She and Vada would have gotten along swimmingly.
Remembering her brings a smile to my face, and I give it a tentative go.
“Hi there, little plant. Grow big and strong for us now.”
A soft hum of accent comes from Vada, who finally releases my hands and sits back to watch. “We’re counting on you, and I know you can do it.”
I start to pull back, but she stops me with a “Not yet. Dig your fingers in a bit. Get close to the roots.”
Why did I just pack this in if I was going to loosen it up again? It makes no sense, but still, I do it.
“You should do this to your seeds too. Your presence should help them grow,” she declares as if that’s a given fact.
“Okay.” I’m not about to tell her no, just like I never would have told my grandmother no.
Grandma would have scoffed at my study of medicine—at least, all the non-plant based elements of it—had she lived long enough to see me reach adulthood.
But this? Me with my hands in the dirt and searching a different world for a magical potion?
I can almost picture her contented grin.
This, she would have been proud of, I think.
“While I sit with this one, can you tell me more about Elias—I mean, Kallan—when he was a child? What was he like?”
There’s a slight tilt to her head, her gaze turning thoughtful. After a moment, she begins, “I did not know him as a young child. I met him first when my mate, Hallam, and I joined his father’s clan only a few turns of the moon before he came into his power.”
“Hallam. The archeologist?” At her strange expression, I clarify, “Kallan told me someone named Hallam is investigating some ruins.”
“Ah, yes. That is my Hallam.” She beams with pride. “Always hard at work. He will be excited to meet you. Perhaps too excited.” She chuckles. “But I shall tell you more about him later if you wish. You asked about our king, and I suspect it is him you are more interested in.”
She sighs, her gaze going distant. All trace of humor slips from her face, her wrinkles deepening. “He was quite sad when I first knew him.”
“Why?” My chest grows tight, and I find myself digging my fingers farther into the soil.
Vada clicks her tongue. “His father was a harsh clan leader. Powerful, respected.” She lowers her voice.
“But unkind. Very strict in his laws, extracting harsh punishments, even of the young and aged.” She shakes her head.
“Our family group was small, so we joined the clan for protection rather than being on our own. A difficult choice but necessary, we believed. But life in the clan was not one of much joy at the time.”
No wonder Elias seemed so bitter the one time he mentioned his father. To have a parent like that…
“Kedrak was just as hard on those close to him as the rest of us, maybe even harsher. It is hard to know what happens within the flaps of a family’s tent, but what I have gleaned since leaves me with much guilt that I did not notice more then or do more to help.
You see, they let us join the clan because of my healing talents, both magical and my knowledge of herbal remedies.
” She gestures to the garden. “Kallan and Katiya’s mother was not well.
I tried to help her as much as I could, but by then, I felt she had already given up, and Kedrak only sped that along. ”
No wonder Elias was a sad child. A heaviness settles over me. I almost want the story to end, but at the same time, I have to know more.
She hesitates, giving me a curious sideways glance. “Has our king told you of how he came into his powers?”
“A little.” I shift my position as I try to recall what he said. “He mentioned it erupted in a time of need but not what that time was.”
“Ah.” She leans back on her hands looking out at her plants once more. “Best you ask him then. But that moment defined him as who he is. Not just a king but the kind of male he could become.”
Vada shifts her attention back to me, a light breeze ruffling her pale hair and wings.
“I questioned him before then. He so often followed his father’s orders without question, no matter how…
” Her lips purse as she searches for the right word, “Cruel. Yes, many of his orders held a dark edge. At first, I thought him either a coward given his deference to Kedrak’s cruelty, or worse, a younger version of Kedrak himself.
It was easy to believe as much from what I witnessed in those early days, and given Kedrak was his father. ”
“But not after. When he came into his power, I finally saw the man he could be. And he proved over and over that he was not the twisted puppet of his father that I feared him to be. We have followed him since without regret.” She nods to herself.
Vada rises slowly to her feet before dusting off her dirt-stained pants.
“Come. That one has received your favor, and we have other plants to tend.”
My brow furrows as I pull my hands from the dirt. For reasons I can’t explain, I pat the little green leaves gently like I might a dog’s head. “Grow well.”
“One more thing I will say,” Vada says as I rise, shaking the dirt from my fingers.
“The magic chose Kallan as our king for a reason. It knew his heart and what he could do, even if we did not all see it yet. His sister as well. Such courage and passion in those two. They’re much more like their mother than their father. ”
“She had the cat-like traits as well?” I ask, pointing to the top of my head for emphasis. It’s half a joke, an attempt at levity after the heaviness of what she’s shared.
A strange look crosses her face. “No.” Vada pauses, her wings giving a soft flutter. “Their mother was human.”