Chapter 8
Una knelt in the dirt at the back of the herb garden. It was early enough that the waking sun had not yet made its way over the hedges that surrounded her, but late enough that air had lost its morning chill.
The sounds of the busy kitchen were barely audible from the open door at the other end of the garden, providing a pleasant sort of company to Una's solitude.
She liked to be here, in the dirt, nurturing the growing plants while she imagined the enticing flavors she could brew with them.
She worked her fingers around the base of a young wormwood plant, loosening the soil where it had naturally condensed near the stem.
The plant had not liked the cold snap a week ago and had gone a sulky, yellowish green at the tips of its lower leaves.
She pinched the worst of them off, one at a time, and laid them in a small pile on the edge of the bed.
No one tended this corner but her. The palace gardeners all knew that she liked to tend to the herbs, and they had long since let her plant whatever she wanted in the spare places between their bushy leaves.
Behind the wormwood grew the things no proper Lameran garden would ever bother with—a low spreading bitter cress, a silvery herb she had grown from unidentified seeds gifted by Tilde, and the dark, sharp-smelling stalks of rhubarb that she liked to cook with.
She pressed the soil back into place around the wormwood and sat back on her heels. She absently picked at the dirt packed under her fingernails and let out a long, slow breath. Nothing beat a quiet morning in the garden.
"I'm surprised the plants do not wilt under the strength of your gaze."
Una immediately straightened her back, pushing herself up into a standing position while trying to make it appear as though she had not just been startled.
She did not have to turn around to know who was speaking to her.
Frankly, she hadn't even needed the Kanaskian lilt in his voice as the barb in his words was tell-tale enough.
"Let us hope you are strong as my lemon balm, then.
" She turned to look at him, fixing him with the full force of the gaze he had just mocked.
He had the audacity to grin back at her. Or smirk, since it was only half of his mouth that smiled.
"Should you not be in the bakehouse, apprentice?" she said, resentment growing in her at being disturbed just as she'd begun to relax.
Matthias bent over the neighboring garden bed. "I came for some lemon balm. I have an idea for it." He glanced at the bed, his eyes taking inventory of its overgrown contents.
"No codex recipe calls for lemon balm," Una said. She felt mildly uncomfortable at the way he was brushing through the leafy herbs in front of him, as though he was casting judgment on her garden.
"Who said I am working on a codex recipe?" he replied, snapping off a long branch of lemon balm.
"You are a codex apprentice," she said, unable to hold back the snarky reply that rose to her tongue despite the fact that she did not want to engage with him.
"This is the one from your tea," he said, ignoring her barb and wrapping his fingers around a stray shoot of rue that had gotten tangled in the lemon balm.
"Don't touch it!" Una yelled, stopping forward, her hand outstretched.
The apprentice pulled back his hand, alarmed.
"It can irritate the skin," Una said, her voice returning to a normal volume and cadence. "It is best handled with gloves."
Matthias looked at her, confused. "But you were not wearing gloves the other night."
Una shrugged, looking down at the dirt under her fingernails. "It is one of the few things that doesn't bother—" she stopped speaking, realizing too late that she had almost revealed too much about herself.
Matthias looked from her to his hand.
Anxious to fill the silence before he thought about what she had just said or worse, asked her about it, she stepped forward. "I will leave you to your—"
Una once again cut herself off, but this time for an entirely different reason.
A small, dark shape had appeared over the top of the hedge. Sable.
Una immediately went still, not wanting to alarm her small friend.
Sable landed on a tall branch of the apple tree with a loud ruffle of feathers. He stared back at her with glassy eyes for several moments before deciding that she was not a threat, and then tilted his head to look down at the empty spot in the tree where she usually left him food.
Una had intentionally left it empty this time. But a heel of bread sat firmly in her pocket.
She stepped forward, moving calmly and slowly toward the base of the tree, one hand dipping into her pocket. "Do not move a muscle," she whispered as she walked past Matthias.
From the corner of her eye, Una could see him nodding in response. Technically, that was precisely what she had told him not to do, but now was not the time to mention that.
When she reached the bench beneath the tree, she gently sat down. Slowly, she crumbled the simple, unsweetened bread in the palm of her hand.
Reaching out, she rested the back of her hand on the back of the wrought-iron bench. Her palm, filled with small chunks of dry bread was face up, lying between her and Sable.
The bird had watched her approach, his head tilted off to the side in a timid, but adorable way. He sidled along the tall upper branch, taking a few steps toward her. Then he stopped, looking back at Matthias.
Una shook her head. No one used the old herb garden, why had the apprentice come out?
Sable lifted his wings, flapping the air without leaving the branch.
"Hide yourself." Una spoke in a low monotone voice, loud enough for Matthias to hear but hopefully calm enough not to disturb Sable. She had spoken to Sable enough times that the bird was hopefully familiar with her voice.
"Yes." Matthias nodded. He had lifted his hands—one fist full of herbs—as though Sable might attack him at any moment.
And the way that the bird was slowly lowering his head with his wings outspread definitely looked menacing, though Una had never seen Sable go on the offensive before.
Slowly, following the calm pace that Una had set, Matthias crouched down onto his knees. His tall head slowly disappeared behind the bushy lemon balm, and then his lifted hands followed shortly after.
Sable stared after him for several long moments, then shook out his feathers and turned his attention back to Una. Or, rather, back to the bread in her outstretched hand.
"Hello, Sable," Una crooned. "I brought you your favorite this time. No sticky caramel sauce. No cocoa."
The bird jumped from the top of the tree and tumbled down to the opposite end of the bench, landing less than gracefully on the iron back near Una's hand. He righted himself with an offending flap.
Una held her breath. She had been working toward this moment for weeks. Feeding Sable every morning, first in the nook of the tree, then on the back of the bench itself, and now, hopefully straight from her hand.
Sable step-hopped along the top of the bench. He was keeping his eye fixed on the food in her hand.
Una wanted to sing for joy. If he wasn't looking at her then he did not consider her a threat. She kept the excitement to herself though, and continued to hold perfectly still.
Sable stopped moving just when his clawed foot was a single step away from touching her hand. He tilted his head in the other direction, eyeing the bread with his other eye.
Una held her breath.
The bird dropped his head, his large, sharp beak, delicately nipping a single chunk of bread from her hand. Then he straightened his head and looked directly at her.
Una smiled.
Holding the bread safely in his beak, Sable let out a cheerful bird call. It was lower than his usual call, as if the sound was coming from deeper in his throat, but he did not drop the bread.
"Sable!" It took all of Una's strength to keep her voice calm and low.
With another guttural sound, Sable opened his wings and took off over the hedge to enjoy his hard-earned treat.
Una sprang from the bench, twirling with delight to watch him disappear out of sight. "We did it!" she squealed, stepping to the tree to deposit the rest of the bread into the usual nook for Sable and his friends to find later.
As she was dusting the crumbs from her palm, still dancing on her toes with glee, she suddenly remembered that she had an audience.
Her shoulders stiffened and she slowly turned around.
A head of dark hair was peering at her over the lemon balm. "Can I come out of hiding now?" Matthias said.
Una nodded, mildly embarrassed that she had forgotten his presence.
But even the embarrassment was not enough to drown her new-found joy.
She smiled. "Crows can remember faces," she said, offering an explanation for what had just happened, and eager to talk about the small moment she had just earned after weeks of patience.
"Of course he remembers your face," Matthias said, fully standing now and walking toward her. "You have been giving him food. I would remember your face for that reason, too."
Una nodded. "Yes, but I was speaking of your face. The last time he saw you, you were running toward him and literally stole his food."
"Oh," Matthias said. "That is why he looked like he wanted to attack me."
"I've never seen a crow attack someone before," Una said. She was not sure if it would have been a terrifying experience—Sable did have long claws and sharp beak—or if it would have been an easy attack to fend off.
"You would have sided with the bird, wouldn't you?" Matthias asked.
Una laughed, her untempered joy spilling out. "Probably. I have spent the last several weeks trying to earn his trust."
"And you did that by feeding him every day?" Matthias asked.
"Yes."
"Why?"
Una looked over at Matthias. He appeared genuinely curious, but his eyes were narrow. The look reminded her of that moment during the presentations, when it felt like he had been judging her and not the other way around. She shrugged, feeling exposed. "I wanted to."
Matthias leaned back on his heels, as though he could sense the change in her. "Next time, I won't let him see my face." Still grasping his fist full of lemon balm, he turned and disappeared through the kitchen door.
Una narrowed her own eyes after him. There wouldn't be a next time. This was her garden and her crow. The nosy apprentice had no business showing up where he wasn't wanted.