22. CHAPTER 22
Aveline
Three days.
It had been three days since I had run out of my tincture.
Three agonizing days that I scoured this godsforsaken island for poison, or any living plant life.
Apparently, the vicious tide kept anything of any worth from growing along the shores.
The rock face was too steep for me to descend on my own, limiting my access to any beaches.
There was stone, stone, and more stone.
Nothing green, except for the ivy vines curling around the pillars in the courtyard and the moss growing on the sea wall. I was pressed against the stone, the ocean spray misting my hair as my gaze searched the skies for any sign of Sorin.
I had expected him to return right away…but he hadn’t.
Rensford had proven to be poor company, but Voirel was at least someone I could talk to. I could hear her delicate footsteps at my back as I released a frustrated huff.
“Waiting for Sorin?” she asked in her high-pitched voice as she joined me, hopping onto the seawall to sit atop it, her feet dangling.
“Does your brother always leave for days at a time with no word of when he will return?” I grumbled.
“Yes,” she replied simply, playing with the beaded trim on her dress.
Voirel had been my only friend these last few days.
The castle staff largely ignored me at Stormgaard. I wasn’t sure if that was because they had been instructed to by Rensford, or if my reputation preceded me and they simply didn’t want to mingle with someone from Myros. I turned toward Voirel, her strawberry hair stirring in the salty breeze.
“When do you think he will return?”
She shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. Though I do assume he will be thoroughly chewed out by Rensford when he does return.”
I turned back toward the castle.
I could always feel his eyes on me…watching. If I didn’t know any better, I might think I was being hunted. It certainly felt like it.
Rensford didn’t trust me.
He knew I had tried to poison Sorin, while Voirel did not. He hadn’t told Voirel about the incident, and I wasn’t sure if that was for her benefit or my own. Voirel needed someone to talk to as well. Stormgaard could be awfully lonely.
But Rensford didn’t know of the conversation that had followed the incident, and what I had confessed to Sorin. If he had, he would know I was no longer a threat.
“I will be taking tea in the gardens this morning, if you would like to join me.”
My heart skipped. “Gardens?”
I had searched this castle high and low, and I hadn’t found a single living thing. Where in the seven hells was there a garden?
Voirel nodded enthusiastically. “Have you not seen them yet? They are beautiful! You simply must come with me.”
She hopped down from the seawall, grasping my hand in hers and dragging me toward the courtyard.
I dutifully trailed along, passing through the arches into the main hall.
We took the long corridor toward the west wing.
At the kitchens we turned left, trailing down another long hallway.
Voirel suddenly stopped at a wooden door, no glass set within it to reveal what might be hiding behind it.
A lock was set into its surface, right above the brass handles.
Why would a garden be locked?
Voirel produced a key from her dress pocket and inserted it, allowing the mechanism to click twice before swinging the door open. I wouldn’t be able to harvest whatever plants I found beyond unless I did it right beneath Voirel’s nose. I didn’t have a key.
I wondered if she was the only one, or if Rensford had one as well. Perhaps I could pilfer one from his person. I would feel too guilty doing such a thing to Voirel.
She disappeared behind the heavy door and I followed, the pungent smell of flowers almost knocking me back a step.
The garden was located in the center of the castle, a hidden courtyard that was open to the sky above.
There were no windows or doors that gazed down upon it other than the one we had passed through.
There was no way of finding this secret garden unless you already knew it was here.
The garden was cradled in old, pale stone as though the castle itself had grown around it. The walls rose in gentle arches, their surfaces softened by creeping ivy that could be found throughout Stormgaard.
A narrow canal of glassy, emerald water wound through the courtyard, its surface catching stray petals from clusters of blush-pink roses that spilled over the rock ledges.
Soft lantern light glowed beneath the archways, even in daylight.
The lit torches led toward stone steps that curved upward into a shadowed passage beyond.
A footbridge crossed the narrow canal where a thatched pergola could be found, covered in climbing roses of all varieties of colors.
I bent to smell one, its apricot petals stark against the emerald water.
There were flowers of all varieties here.
Roses, tulips, carnations, ranunculus, and even alstroemeria.
None of them poisonous.
None of them useful for creating a tincture or elixir for mithridatism.
I released a deflated exhale, doing my best to mask my disappointment as my gaze flitted to Voirel.
The garden was elaborate and beautiful, but I had been hoping for something else entirely.
Voirel perched on the simple stone bench tucked beneath the pergola.
Her gaze was focused on the crawling vines above her.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she asked.
“Breathtaking,” I replied truthfully. “Why is it that the garden is locked?”
Voirel’s gaze slipped to mine, her gaze sad. “Sorin planted it for our mother. When she passed…he wanted to keep it just for the two of us. Not that we get many visitors at Stormgaard, anyway. His magic keeps the plants alive, even in his absence.”
For Melantha.
Sorin had planted all of these beautiful flowers for his mother.
The image of Sorin on his hands and knees, a trowel in his fierce grip, brought a warmth to my chest I hadn’t expected. It was such a sweet gesture. One that didn’t match the dangerous, short-tempered prince I had come to know.
“It must be difficult for you. To be without her,” I said, sitting beside Voirel on the bench.
She nodded, tears filling her usually bright sapphire eyes. “I miss her every day. Sorin does, too. He comes here more often than I do, I think. To sit here and remember her.” She reached toward a white blooming rose that grew over her shoulder. “Roses were her favorite.”
“They are mine, too,” I told her.
Warmth painted her cheeks when she turned back toward me. “I know Sorin would have taken you here once he returned.”
I wasn’t sure about that.
“He planted all of these by himself?” I asked.
Voirel nodded enthusiastically. “He sailed them in from all over the realm. So that she would have each and every color. He spent endless days and nights preparing the garden. Tending to the flowers and watering them. Mother loved it here. She spent most of her time in Stormgaard before her passing.”
“What about your father?” I asked.
I knew she was not the daughter of King Mavros, but her father had to be Vireth, too. Voirel turned away sharply, hiding her face from me. She took a deep, staggering breath to try to right herself.
“I—I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m sorry.” I placed a delicate hand against her back to soothe her. She flinched at first but quickly leaned into my touch as I rubbed soothing circles against her.
“It’s just that…he’s gone, too.” I had assumed as much. “King Mavros killed him.”
My hand remained on her back, but my head reeled back in surprise. King Mavros had killed Melantha’s lover, and Voirel’s father? Why?
I hadn’t thought I'd asked the question aloud, but Voirel answered anyway.
“He was jealous. If he couldn’t have Melantha, no one could.” She swallowed hard as her gaze traveled back to meet mine. “Mother raised me until she, too, was gone. Then Sorin took over. He is more of a father to me than my own father ever was. I only met him when I was a baby.”
Sorin was immensely protective of Voirel, and now it made even more sense.
I would have to assume the relationship with King Mavros and Sorin would have been strained ever since.
Sorin loved his sister deeply, and he wouldn’t allow anything to hurt her.
To think his own father had done so, in an irrevocable way.
Voirel’s cheeks were stained with tears, and I reached out to wipe them gently away.
Something about Voirel awakened a maternal instinct in me. Perhaps it was her youthful face. Or her vulnerable, endearing nature. She smiled up at me, blinking more tears free from her gaze.
The wet droplets felt magnetic against my skin.
I was all too aware of the feeling of them, like electricity humming over the surface of my fingers.
It was almost the same sensation I had when I had touched Sorin—the opposite of what I would expect from a dragon prince.
It was the soft swell of the ocean. Delicate, pattering mist. Silken tides lapping against timeworn rocks.
I shook my head in confusion, wiping the droplets off on the skirts of my dress.
Voirel’s gaze lifted over my shoulder, and I assumed that the tea was being brought out. When I turned, it was Rensford standing in the wooden doorway of the gardens that had been left ajar.
“What is she doing here?” he asked, his voice a warning.
Rensford was intimidating. He was broad, with a wide jaw and severe features. He was also beautiful, his short hair curling against his dark skin at the temples.
“She is taking tea in the garden with me. You are welcome to join us, Rensford,” Voirel answered.
Her composure had returned to normal, as if she hadn’t been crying mere moments ago.
Rensford shook his head. “Not today, Voirel.”
His dark brown gaze was full of uncertainty as his eyes bounced back and forth between the two of us. His brow was covered in a sheen of sweat, and I could sense the droplets of moisture. Almost as if they were calling out to me. Like a chime, or a ringing in my ears.