Chapter 20
Chapter
Twenty
Winter
Ifelt the weight of Fenric's stare boring into the back of my head as we walked through the entrance of Willowbrook Botanical Gardens. He'd been tense since the moment we left the apartment, his shoulders so rigid I half-expected to hear cracking sounds when he moved.
"Your mandatory Restabilization Downtime will commence at precisely 2:15 PM," he consulted his ever-present tablet. "I've prepared a schedule that divides our walk into seven-minute emotional increments, beginning with 'Contemplative Reflection' followed by 'Measured Joy.'"
I rolled my eyes so hard I nearly strained something. "Did you seriously schedule when I'm allowed to feel things?"
"The Bureau's guidelines for prophetic vessel stabilization are quite clear," he sniffed, adjusting his perfectly straight tie. "Emotional regulation is essential for preventing further reality breaches."
I glanced down at my arm where the blue markings pulsed with a steady glow.
After the incident with Horrace creating a pocket dimension in the kitchen, and my subsequent make-out session with Milo that Fenric had interrupted, the Bureau had mandated what they called "controlled emotional decompression. "
Translation: I was being forced to take a walk in a pretty garden with the most uptight elf in existence.
Oh goody.
"Where are the others?" I looked around the entrance pavilion with its soaring glass ceiling and cascading indoor waterfall. "I thought at least Zane would be joining us."
Fenric's eye twitched slightly. "Agent Zane is handling a situation at Crescent Park. Agent Rook is investigating a potential cultist sighting. And Milo..." his mouth tightened, "is on temporary reassignment."
I narrowed my eyes. "You separated us on purpose."
"The Bureau felt it prudent to establish appropriate boundaries following yesterday's incident." Fenric couldn't quite meet my gaze.
"You mean when you caught us kissing?" I deliberately made my voice louder than necessary, enjoying the way his pointed ears flushed pink at the tips.
"Protocol dictates a 72-hour cooling-off period after inappropriate fraternization," he muttered, his fingers flying across his tablet screen. "Now, shall we proceed to the first emotional regulation station? The Meditation Garden is ideal for the 'Contemplative Reflection' phase."
I sighed but followed him along a winding stone path.
Despite my annoyance at being stuck with Fenric, I had to admit the gardens were beautiful.
The path was lined with flowering plants that seemed to glow from within, their petals shifting colors as we passed.
Magical fireflies danced between the branches of ancient willows, and somewhere nearby, a fountain played a melody that changed with the breeze.
"This place is Bureau-approved?" I was genuinely surprised by its whimsical nature.
"The Willowbrook Botanical Gardens are maintained by a consortium of botanical witches," Fenric tone taking on that lecturing quality I'd come to expect.
"All magical flora is contained within stabilization wards, and the emotional enhancement enchantments are carefully calibrated to promote tranquility without triggering prophetic surges. "
"So basically, it won't make me go boom."
"Precisely," he nodded, missing my sarcasm entirely. "Now, according to the schedule, we should begin with five minutes of silent contemplation followed by two minutes of guided reflection."
"Are you serious right now?" I stopped walking, planting my hands on my hips. "You're going to time my contemplation?"
Fenric blinked at me, genuinely confused by my resistance. "Of course. How else would we ensure optimal emotional regulation?"
I threw up my hands in exasperation. "Fenric, emotions don't work on a schedule! You can't just decide 'now I'll feel peaceful for exactly seven minutes, then I'll transition to measured joy for the next seven.'"
"With proper discipline, one absolutely can," he insisted, looking mildly offended. "I've maintained a strict emotional schedule for the past one hundred and seventy-three years."
That explained so much.
"Well, I'm human, not an elf with a stopwatch for a heart," I started walking again, deliberately heading in the opposite direction from his planned route. "If you want me to decompress, then let me actually enjoy this place instead of turning it into another Bureau assignment."
I half-expected him to cite regulations or threaten to report me, but to my surprise, Fenric simply sighed and followed, tablet still in hand but at least temporarily lowered.
We wandered into a section of the garden filled with luminous blue flowers that resembled lilies but had petals that moved like sea anemones, gently waving in an unfelt current. The air here smelled like rain and something sweeter, almost like vanilla.
"The Midnight Lilies," Fenric identified them, his voice softer than I'd ever heard it. "They only bloom in our realm once every decade."
I glanced at him, surprised by the hint of wonder in his tone. "They're beautiful."
"Indeed," he nodded. "My mother cultivated a small bed of them in our family garden. I used to sit beside them for hours as a child, watching their movements."
This glimpse of personal history caught me off guard. In all our time together, Fenric had never volunteered anything about himself that wasn't directly related to Bureau protocols or my prophetic status.
"You grew up with a garden?" I prompted gently, curious about this crack in his bureaucratic armor.
His expression softened fractionally. "Yes.
My family estate had extensive gardens. My mother was a botanical witch of some renown.
" Then, as if catching himself revealing too much, he straightened and consulted his tablet.
"We've now exceeded the allocated time for the Contemplative Garden by three minutes and forty-two seconds. "
I bit back a groan. Just when I thought we might have a genuine moment.
What a tightwad.
We continued through the gardens, Fenric periodically checking his tablet and making notes while I tried to actually enjoy the surroundings.
We passed through a greenhouse filled with plants that sang softly when touched, a rock garden where the stones rearranged themselves into different patterns every few minutes, and a butterfly pavilion where the insects' wings displayed moving images like tiny, fluttering television screens.
Despite Fenric's insistence on following his ridiculous schedule, I found myself relaxing. The magical ambiance of the gardens was soothing, and even Fenric's constant note-taking had faded into background noise.
Then we entered a small, secluded area enclosed by hedges that shimmered with a faint silver light.
At its center stood a circular bed of flowers unlike any I'd seen before.
They resembled roses but with transparent petals that caught the light like crystal, refracting it into rainbows that danced across the ground.
"What are these?" I approached, fascinated by their ethereal beauty.
"Emotion Mirrors," Fenric answered, keeping a careful distance. "A rare magical hybrid. They reflect the emotional state of anyone who touches them."
I crouched beside the flower bed, ignoring my knee screaming at me, examining the crystal-like blooms more closely. "They show emotions? How?"
"Through color and light patterns," he explained. "Each emotional state produces a unique chromatic signature. The Bureau uses similar technology in their empathic assessment devices, though in a much less poetic form."
I reached out, my fingers hovering above one particularly perfect bloom. "Is it safe to touch them?"
Fenric hesitated. "They're not physically dangerous, but they can be revealing. Many find the experience uncomfortably intimate."
"Now I'm definitely touching one," I decided, my curiosity piqued.
Before Fenric could object, I gently stroked the crystalline petals of the nearest flower.
The effect was immediate and stunning. The transparent petals filled with swirling colors.
Deep purple shot through with electric blue and flashes of bright pink.
The colors moved like living things, shifting and pulsing in rhythm with my heartbeat.
"Wow," I breathed, mesmerized by the display.
"Fascinating," Fenric murmured, stepping closer to observe. "The purple indicates resilience and determination. The blue represents creative potential and adaptability. And the pink..."
"What does the pink mean?" I looked at him when he trailed off.
"Joy," he answered quietly. "Despite everything you've endured, there's still joy at your core."
Our eyes met over the glowing flower, and for a moment, Fenric looked at me not as a prophetic vessel to be managed, but as a person, complex, resilient, and perhaps worthy of genuine respect.
The moment was broken when he cleared his throat and stepped back. "The emotional reflection is consistent with your psychometric profile, though the joy indicator is higher than predicted."
I rolled my eyes. "Heaven forbid I be happier than your spreadsheets predicted."
"It's actually a positive development," he made another note on his tablet. "Emotional resilience correlates with increased prophetic stability."
I stood up, stumbling slightly as I winced at my knee, brushing dirt from my knees. "So you're saying being happy makes me less likely to accidentally turn people into ferrets or make them disappear?"
"In essence, yes," he nodded seriously.
"Then maybe you should be less concerned with seven-minute emotional increments and more focused on, I don't know, letting me actually enjoy things?" I suggested, unable to keep the sarcasm from my voice.
To my surprise, Fenric paused, his fingers hovering over his tablet. "You may have a valid point."
I nearly fell over in shock. "Did you just admit I might be right about something?"
His mouth twitched in an almost smile. "Don't get used to it."