Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
SASHA
Iwoke to pale dawn light filtering through unfamiliar curtains, my body instantly tense before memory reasserted itself. The fae court. The manor house. My wedding night spent alone in a room that smelled like cedar and magic.
My childhood stuffed rabbit, Jasper, lay tucked against my pillow where I’d positioned him last night. His worn fabric and missing eye had witnessed every significant moment of my life, and somehow having him here made this strange new home feel slightly more bearable.
I rose and washed in the bathing area, then returned to my room and dressed quickly, choosing a deep green gown that was practical enough for exploring but elegant enough to meet court standards.
The fabric whispered softly as I moved, and I appreciated the way it allowed for full range of motion while still looking polished.
Strategy extended to clothing choices too.
Savory ruffled her feathers from her perch near the window. I’d sent the perch ahead with my belongings.
The morning shows truths that daylight often hides, she said. Perhaps we should explore before the court awakens.
“Good idea,” I said, braiding my hair quickly. The tighter the braid, the more in control I felt. After yesterday’s disaster, I needed it extra snug.
I slipped out of my room and into the hall with Savory swooping ahead. I paused at Dominic’s door, listening for any sound of movement, but heard nothing. Either he was still asleep or he’d already left for the day.
The thought of him stirred an uncomfortable mix of emotions inside me. The humiliation of our wedding ceremony still burned, but underneath it lurked something else. Curiosity, maybe. Or the faint hope that perhaps there was more to him than yesterday’s endless giggling had suggested.
Hope is a seed that needs careful tending, Savory said as we descended the stairs. But even careful gardens can surprise you.
“You’re very right,” I said softly.
The manor house felt different in the early morning quiet. Softer somehow, with the magical lights dimmed and without the usual bustle of servants. My footsteps echoed on the stone floors as I made my way toward the back of the building, Savory flying ahead.
I wasn’t entirely sure where I was going until I found myself pushing open the door to the greenhouse Dominic had shown me yesterday. The plants had pulled me here, so I told myself.
The glass structure was warmer than the rest of the house, humidity hanging in the air, making my skin feel as if I could suck in my first true breath of the day.
Rows of plants stretched out on either side of the big room and down the middle, most as wilted and unhappy as the ones I’d seen throughout the castle the evening before.
Whatever was affecting them had hit this space particularly hard.
But it was the figure kneeling near the back corner that made me freeze.
Dominic bent over a cluster of drooping flowers I vaguely recognized as bellaburst blossoms, a common species in the fae kingdom though rare everywhere else in the realm.
His dark blond hair fell forward, mussed from sleep or work, and his simple pants and a loose white shirt with the sleeves rolled up made him look more like a farmer than a king.
I liked the lack of a crown, formal robes, and courtly pretense.
His low voice echoed back to me.
“Come on now.” He kept his deep voice barely above a whisper. “I know you’re struggling, but you’re stronger than this. You’ve weathered worse seasons.” His hands cupped a wilting bloom with gentleness, and a soft green glow emanated from his palms.
My chest squeezed tight.
This wasn’t the giggling fool from yesterday’s ceremony. This was someone who cared deeply, who was trying to heal with his own magic. One who spoke encouragement to dying flowers with the same sincerity I’d heard in our diplomatic negotiations.
The unexpected tenderness in him brought out something warm and unwelcome in my chest. I wasn’t sure I liked feeling attraction for this serious, capable version of my husband.
I couldn’t afford distractions like this.
I needed to stay focused. I was here for the alliance, for the people depending on me, not for feelings.
The bellaburst blossom didn’t respond. The glow faded, and Dominic’s shoulders sagged.
“Please,” he whispered. “I don’t know what’s wrong, but I’m trying to fix it. Just hold on a little longer.”
His quiet desperation revealed a depth I hadn’t expected, making him far more appealing than the frivolous king I’d braced myself for. I reminded myself that his care for the court could strengthen our alliance, nothing more.
A gardener’s heart shows truest when no one’s watching, Savory said from where she’d perched on the edge of the first row of plants.
“So true,” I whispered, unable to tear my gaze away from the sight of my new husband kneeling in the dirt, pouring his magic and concern into plants that didn’t appear able to heal.
Dominic’s head lifted, his leaf-green eyes finding me across the greenhouse. For a moment, neither of us moved. Then he straightened, brushing soil from his hands with a self-conscious gesture.
“I didn’t think you were awake,” he said, and there was no laughter in his voice, just quiet acknowledgment and perhaps a hint of embarrassment at being caught in such an unguarded moment.
I stepped closer, Savory swooping ahead to land on the table in front of him. “I woke and wanted to see the plants again.”
“Ah.” He glanced down at the wilting blossoms. “I’m afraid they’re not much better than yesterday. Worse, actually.”
“How long have you been trying to heal them?” I asked, genuinely curious now.
“Weeks.” He ran a hand through his hair, making it stick up in places.
I found the gesture oddly endearing. “Ever since I first noticed the decline. I’ve tried every healing spell I know and even consulted with the court’s botanists.
I brought in magical specialists from the outer districts. Nothing works.”
I knelt beside the bellaburst blossoms. Up close, the telltale signs of magical drain was apparent in the way the leaves curled in on themselves, the dull sheen to petals that should sparkle, and the way the stems shrunk away from their own roots.
Savory swooped down from her perch, landing on the edge of the planter beside the bellaburst blossoms. The moment her claws touched the soil, my plant sense sharpened.
The vague wrongness I’d been feeling crystallized into a barrier, like a wall built between the plants and the emotional magic they needed to thrive.
Interesting how the garden speaks more clearly when two sets of senses listen together, Savory said in my mind. Some songs require harmony to be properly heard.
I frowned at her cryptic comment but didn’t have time to puzzle it out.
“What is it?” Dominic asked, noticing my sharp intake of breath.
“With Savory here, I can sense it more clearly. Something is actively blocking their connection to the court’s emotional energy. It’s not decay, it’s interference.”
I stepped closer to him.
“Tell me what you’ve observed.” I studied the plants with the same focus that had served me well in strategy work, my magical skill. “Not just magically, but physically. What changes have you noticed?”
Dominic settled into a crouch beside me, close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from his body. Being this close to him sent a spark through me, and genuine attraction bloomed inside me for this sweet side of him. I shoved the feeling down. Romance wasn’t a luxury I could afford.
“The wilting started in the oldest sections of the greenhouse first.” His voice took on a thoughtful quality that made me want to listen to everything he said, even if he was reciting a shopping list. “It spread gradually, affecting the younger plants last. The blooms that respond to emotions were hit hardest, the xavier blossoms in particular.”
“Interesting.” I reached out, hovering my hand above a leaf without touching it. A faint tingle ran through my fingertips, a sensation I’d learned to ignore but that had always been there when I worked with plants. “What about their magical signatures? Can you sense anything unusual?”
“That’s the strange part.” He demonstrated, letting his magic flow toward the plant again.
The green glow illuminated both our hands, and I couldn’t miss how strong his fingers looked, how carefully they cradled the fragile stem.
“The plants still have magic in them. But it’s like they can’t access it properly.
Or something’s blocking their connection to the court’s power. ”
I frowned, running through possibilities. “What changed weeks ago? New lords or ladies arriving? Magical experiments? Construction projects?”
“Nothing out of the ordinary.” Frustration leaked into his tone. “That’s what’s been driving me mad. There’s no obvious cause and no clear pattern beyond the gradual spread.”
“There’s always a pattern.” I rose and walked over to examine another cluster of plants. “Sometimes it’s just hard to see.”
We worked in silence for a while, him sharing his intuitive observations while I conducted a more systematic assessment.
I noted which plants were affected worst, where they were positioned, what types of magic they typically responded to.
I moved steadily, checking soil quality, examining root structures, and testing the ambient magical flow.
“Your hands are steadier with plants than most people I’ve seen,” Dominic said suddenly.
I glanced up to find him watching me with a look that made my pulse quicken. I didn’t hear mockery in his expression, and thankfully, no hint of the giggling that had plagued him yesterday. Just genuine interest and something that might be admiration.