Chapter 17 Dominic #2
Her hand came up to cover mine against her cheek. “I told you I’m not going anywhere. Besides, I’m starting to suspect I thrive in your particular brand of mess.”
Savory made another pleased sound.
Sasha didn’t break eye contact with me. “She says some gardens need both structure and wildness to truly flourish.”
“She already said that.”
“She’s emphasizing the point.”
I smiled, stroking Sasha’s cheek. The moment stretched between us, full of the growing feeling that this marriage was becoming much more than a political alliance.
Finally, I stepped back. “We should probably finish eating before the food gets cold.”
“That’s practical,” she said, but her eyes held warmth.
We returned to our seats, but everything felt different now.
The air between us hummed with awareness and unspoken promises.
After we’d finished, we went to my office, where Sasha returned to organizing our notes while I reviewed festival preparations.
My staff would handle most of it, and I’d given them direction long ago, but it never hurt to review everything when the event was so close.
Sasha and I worked together well, occasionally sharing observations or asking questions.
Staff delivered books from the library, and we reviewed those.
I caught myself staring as she explained her theory about magical signatures. She gestured animatedly when passionate about a subject, her hands painting pictures in the air. The intensity in her eyes drew me in and made me want to know every thought crossing her mind.
She was beautiful when she was solving problems. Beautiful all the time, actually, but especially then.
Our hands touched as we reached for the same botanical reference. The contact sent familiar sparks through me. We smiled at each other, neither pulling away.
“Are you planning to footnote our entire investigation?” I asked, nodding at her papers. “Because I noticed you’re taking notes about taking notes.”
“Proper documentation prevents oversights.” She didn’t look up, but I caught the hint of a smile teasing the corners of her mouth. “Also, some of us weren’t born knowing how to charm information out of people.”
“Charm is just strategic honesty with better timing.”
“I’m writing that down,” she said, actually making a note in the margin.
I laughed. “You’re serious.”
“Completely. It might be useful for future reference.”
I leaned back in my chair, studying her. “You make this all feel manageable. It’s remarkable.”
Now she did look up, and something vulnerable flickered across her face. “You read people like I read tactical manuals. No wonder your court adores you.”
“They adore the performance I give them.”
“No, they adore you because you actually care. The charm is just how you show it.”
The observation settled warm in my chest. She was seeing past my assumptions about myself, the same way I was learning to see past hers.
An idea hit me. “What if I deliberately make you laugh? Will the plants respond?”
Sasha blinked. “What?”
“For science.” I gestured to the flowers around us. “Did they respond when we were uncontrollably giggling?”
She considered that. “I don’t think so. But that laughter was forced, not genuine.”
“Exactly. Maybe forced laughter doesn’t work, but the real thing does.” I stood, moving to the center of the room. “Watch.”
I proceeded to do my best impression of Lord Turren checking his reflection, complete with an imaginary mirror and dramatic hair smoothing. I exaggerated his vanity to silly levels, taking poses and making concerned faces at invisible blemishes.
Sasha pressed her hand to her mouth, trying not to laugh.
I added more details, including Turren’s tendency to check his reflection in literally any surface, including teacups and other people’s eyes. His elaborate theories about which colors enhanced his complexion. The way he’d pause mid-conversation to ensure his hair remained perfectly arranged.
Sasha broke, her laughter bursting out. The sound filled the room, and I smiled along with her.
Around us, leaves unfurled, colors brightened, and blossoms opened wider. The transformation was immediate and undeniable.
“Well,” Sasha said when she could speak again, still giggling, “that’s scientifically conclusive.”
My grin widened. “Told you.”
Savory made a sound from her perch.
Sasha translated. “She wants to know if you’re going to catalogue the precise angle of my smile for your research.”
“That seems like crucial data,” I said. “For science.”
Another sound erupted from Savory, and she scrambled across her perch as if insisting her comment be shared.
“Now she’s suggesting we test whether arguing has the opposite effect,” Sasha said, “but she’s concerned we might kill the flowers.”
I turned toward the raven. “Your witch is very thorough. I appreciate that about her.”
Savory ruffled her feathers, looking smug.
We spent another hour testing theories and documenting responses. By the time we needed to leave for our investigation of the gardens, the sitting room looked healthier than it had in weeks.
A small victory, but a real one.
The day passed in a blur of investigation.
We questioned the head gardener, who had no explanation for the widespread wilting.
We interviewed botanical staff, who seemed genuinely distressed by the plants’ decline.
We examined festival preparation areas, finding the same pattern of dampening magic everywhere.
By evening, we’d gathered data but no definitive answers. Just more questions and the growing certainty that whatever was happening had existed for more than a few months and was deeply rooted in the court itself.
Dinner in the informal dining room felt almost normal.
Lords and ladies filtered in, claiming their usual seats.
Lord Turren arrived first, adjusting his lavender jacket to make sure it lay smoothly across his hips.
Lady Kenneth followed, practical as always in a tunic and pants.
Lady Edwina swept in with her velvet pouch of divination stones rattling.
Sasha and I slipped back into our public roles, but everything felt different now. We’d shared understanding, private jokes, and a connection that buzzed beneath the surface.
We held hands under the table after we’d settled into our seats.
“Good evening, Your Majesties,” Lady Kenneth said. “How was your day?”
“Productive,” I said. “We’ve been investigating the plant situation.”
“Any progress?” Lord Turren asked, though he seemed more concerned with his reflection in a polished spoon than our answer.
“Some theories,” Sasha said. “Nothing conclusive yet.”
Lady Edwina pulled out her divination stones and waved them in the air. “Perhaps the cosmic patterns can provide guidance.”
She scattered them across the table, leaning forward to study their arrangement. The rest of us watched, some with genuine interest, others with polite skepticism.
“The cosmic patterns are deeply disturbing this evening,” Lady Edwina said in a sing-song voice.
Lord Turren set down the spoon. “Do the stones say anything about complexion remedies? All this stress is terrible for my skin.”
Lady Edwina didn’t even glance his way, her attention fixed on the stones. “I see a shadow growing beneath beauty’s roots.”
Sasha tightened her fingers around mine.
“The one who tends may poison the garden,” Lady Edwina added, her voice taking on an eerie tone. “Ancient hungers wake when emotions run too pure.”
My pulse picked up. These weren’t the vague predictions Lady Edwina usually made. These felt specific.
“Two hearts beating as one shall either save the bloom or seal its doom,” she said.
Silence fell across the table. Even Lord Turren had stopped fussing with his appearance.
Lady Kenneth leaned forward, concern on her face. “Edwina, can you be more specific? Shadow beneath roots could mean anything from root rot to underground tunnels.”
“The stones speak in metaphor,” Lady Edwina said with quiet dignity. “Interpretation often requires time and patience.”
I exchanged a glance with Sasha. We were both taking these predictions more seriously than the others. What if the plant dampening wasn’t recent sabotage but something old being awakened?
The conversation moved on to other topics. Court gossip, festival preparations, and Lord Turren’s elaborate theories about this year’s festival fashion trends. Normal chatter.
My mind raced.
Savory flew from the windowsill to perch near Lady Edwina, tilting her head as if studying the stones herself.
Lady Edwina noticed and smiled. “I wonder if your companion has an eye for cosmic truth, Your Majesty.”
“She has opinions about many things,” Sasha said.
The meal continued. I contributed to conversations about nothing, played my role as the charming king, doing what I could to make the court feel at ease.
But underneath, questions churned.
Ancient hungers.
Emotions running too pure.
Two hearts either saving or sealing doom.