Chapter 37
Reyla
The flowerbed had been constructed of brown stone. Slicked with frost, it was filled with gnarled stems and glittering crystalline leaves. The main plant with petals layered like clear sapphire grew in the center, reaching to chest height, and encased in a lacy spiderweb of ice.
Four bodies lay in the vicinity, one collapsed on the edge of the raised bed, two sitting and slumped forward, their hands outstretched toward the plant.
One lay flat on her back, staring blankly at the sky, locked in place by roots coiling around her wrists and ankles, her gown and hair coated with hoarfrost. The expression on her face…
Her death may have been quick, but I suspected it was painful.
These weren’t mere accidents. They'd been harvested. Each failed attempt had sent threads of energy spiraling back to Naveer, strengthening her while we walked into her perfectly orchestrated trap.
Lore’s voice echoed in my mind. I’ll tell you what little I know about plucking a frostwilla blossom.
The danger isn’t just in the timing. The sunlight only hits it properly once a day, and only for an instant.
And the frostwilla doesn’t stay still. It reacts like a trap, its core tracking the sunlight.
The moment the sunbeam gets close, it begins to turn, avoiding the light.
If left alone, it will twist out of alignment, and the sunlight won’t penetrate the petals at all.
How do we pluck a blossom without freezing to death if it avoids the light?
I think the trick relates to holding the stalk in place so that it catches the light at just the right instant, then snapping the stem.
What did the others do wrong? I asked, trying not to linger on the expressions of horror on their faces.
Plucked without the right light or the frostwilla plant fought back.
When you say fighting back, I assume you mean freezing me instantly. I pointed to one of the frozen lords nearby with ice embedded in his hand.
“What makes you believe you’ll be picking this blossom?” he drawled.
I huffed. “Oh, there’s my arrogant husband again. I’ve missed him. Of course it’ll be me.”
“Why you in particular?”
Sunlight poked its way through the canopy, striking the flowerbed a short distance away from the stalk of the particularly beautiful frostwilla blossom.
“Because you’ve got enough to think about with the dragon.” It was all I could think of fast. “I can do this.” Maybe. Sure, I could. No, I would. “Because I love you and it has to be me.”
Frowning, he studied my face. “You sense this?”
No, but I’d rather die than watch him make a mistake and turn to ice in front of me.
The beam of sun drifted closer to the stalk. It was going to hit exactly right and within a few breaths.
“Warm me up when I'm holding the blossom,” I said, stepping closer.
He didn’t argue, just caught my hand and pressed his lips to my knuckles. Be precise. Don’t pluck it until the light cuts through. Do NOT endanger yourself.
As if I had a choice? Stride into the fire, I told myself. Embrace the flames. All of that sounded good in theory. The application of it was the true trick.
I nodded once and stepped onto the narrow edge of stone that bordered the raised bed. Frost crusted the surface, slick as glass, and my boots lost purchase for a heartbeat before catching again, nearly sending me tumbling into the plant.
Sunlight crept up the stalk, and the frostwilla responded like a living thing. Its crystalline petals shimmered, the core pulsing with silvery light as it slowly recoiled from the approaching warmth.
I held still, my breathing shallow. The wind picked up, sighing through the icy vegetation, making leaves clink together.
Now, Lore said.
I moved, wrapping my fingers around the stalk exactly as the light struck the bloom dead-on. The ice coating the petals lit up from within, a miniature sunburst caught in a glass prism. The frostwilla stopped moving.
The stem trembled. A warning. Cold blasted up my arm, like I’d dunked it into a half-frozen river. I clenched my jaw, holding tight. The petals quivered, and a sound like cracking porcelain echoed in the still air.
Sunlight shot straight through the bloom, piercing the icy layers until they shimmered like blue flame.
I twisted.
The blossom came free with a clean snap.
It felt…too easy. But it wouldn’t have been if Lore hadn’t walked me through the procedure.
I stumbled off the raised bed, cradling the blossom in both hands. My fingers burned with cold. Lore caught me before I could fall, his hands already flooding heat into my skin.
“You did it.” His voice held pure awe and something deeper. “My brilliant, fearless wife. I've never been more proud.”
I blinked at the flower, its petals still glowing with captured light, delicate and perfect in my hands.
I sagged against his chest. It's beautiful,” I breathed, then looked up at him. “Almost as beautiful as the way you're looking at me right now.”
His gaze locked on mine and he held out his hand. “Ready to leave this wretched place?”
“Yesterday.”
He flitted us to our suite.
The warmth of our rooms felt like a different world after the frozen garden. For a moment, I let myself believe we might actually escape this place alive. But beneath my relief, unease lingered. Something about how easily we'd succeeded nagged at me.
“There you are.” Moira rose from her chair in the sitting area, setting aside her book and rushing over to us, looking us over.
Her mother joined us. “We were worried but—” She spied the blossom in my hand and gave a little shriek. “You did it. You did it. We must pack your things. We’ll depart as soon as you have the second token, I assume?”
“Yes. Have you discovered anything else?” I’d welcome any clue into what was going on with Laphira.
Moira shifted closer, lowering her voice. “They’re moving up the princess’s wedding to four days from now.”
“Why so soon?”
“I don’t know.”
We need to get her out of here, I told Lore, and he nodded.
I clapped my hand. “Pack your things first.” I didn’t care about our own. There was nothing here we couldn’t replace at Evergorne. “We’ll leave as soon as we trade the blossom for the talisman.”
They both bowed and left, scurrying down the hall.
We left our suite. I clung to the blossom as we took the stairs to the queen’s suite, the few lords and ladies we passed either hissing at us or scowling when they saw what I held.
We make a great team, I said.
That we do, love. Let them glare. We’ll be out of this place soon and can forget all about them.
We arrived at the queen’s door to find the same guards present.
The woman we’d interacted with before gave us a sharp look before dipping her head forward in one of the shortest bows I’d ever seen.
But her opinion of me didn’t matter. All I cared about was fusing the three talismans and saving Lore’s life.
After making us remove all our weapons again, the guard swept the door open. “She’ll see you now.”
We stepped inside, pausing on the rug.
Each detail inside her suite appeared as I remembered, yet dismay roared through my belly, making my instincts rattle around inside me like stones in a jar. The air hummed with stored power, thrumming with the energy of every contestant who'd died to feed a feral queen.
We exchanged a look and stepped further into the room.
The guards followed, pouring in through the opening, surrounding us.
Magic whipped around us, pinning our arms to our sides.
Lore— Struggling, bellowing, I tried to pull my small blade from my boot, but they secured my hands to my sides and my ankles with invisible ropes.
Snarling and thrashing, Lore head-butted one of the guards.
Someone came up behind him and smacked him on the back of the head with the hilt of a sword.
He slumped to the carpet, and our mate bond went silent.
Now I understood Naveer's trap.
She hadn't just wanted the frostwilla.
She'd wanted us.