Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
DOMINIC
The potting shed smelled like earth and growing things. I shifted on the overturned crate, trying to find a position that didn’t make my legs cramp while maintaining a clear view of the greenhouse entrance through the shed’s small window.
Sasha sat close beside me on her own box. She’d spread a blanket across our laps, and her warmth seeped through my tunic where our bodies pressed together. Her notebook balanced on her knee, filled with careful observations tracking every movement near the greenhouse over the past two hours.
Nothing suspicious yet. Just the normal evening routines of a court preparing for its most important celebration.
I watched her make another note, her handwriting precise. My chest overflow with love.
This was partnership, one built on trust and genuine understanding rather than manipulation disguised as help.
I couldn’t stop myself from comparing Sasha’s behavior to my mother’s. She’d used deception to manipulate me, convinced she knew better than anyone else what I needed. Sasha simply stood beside me, offering her strength when mine fell short, trusting me to do the same for her.
“What are you thinking?” she asked softly, not looking up from her notes.
“That I’m grateful you’re here.” I linked my fingers through hers under the blanket. “This feels right in a way nothing else has.”
Her smile flickered in the shadows. “Even hiding in a potting shed watching for saboteurs?”
“Especially then.”
Was I being selfish, like my father, for wanting personal happiness while my court faced a true threat?
The thought dissolved almost as quickly as it formed.
Sasha’s presence didn’t distract me from my duties.
It sharpened my focus and gave me strength to face challenges I might’ve struggled with by myself.
Being with her made me a better king, not a worse one.
Sasha straightened, squinting out the window.
“Savory says there’s nothing suspicious yet. Just Lord Primrose and Lady Daphnie taking an evening stroll through the gardens.” Her lips twitched. “Apparently they’re composing poetry about moonlight and eternal devotion.”
My smile rose. “Of course they are.”
Time stretched. My legs cramped, and I shifted again, accidentally jostling Sasha’s notebook.
“Sorry,” I whispered.
“It’s fine.” She leaned closer. “Though if we have to do this much longer, we might need to—”
She stopped, her body going rigid.
“What is it?”
Another pause follows while Savory communicated something. Then Sasha’s hand tightened on mine. “Someone’s approaching the greenhouse. They’re moving carefully, staying in the shadows.”
My pulse kicked up. I leaned forward, peering through the window as a figure emerged from behind the ornamental hedge. They glanced back over their shoulder before hurrying toward the greenhouse entrance.
“Can Savory see who it is?” I asked.
Sasha’s eyes had gone distant as she focused on her companion’s observations. “She’s getting closer… She says…” Her voice dropped to barely above a breath. “It’s Lord Turren.”
I blinked, certain I’d misheard. “That can’t be right.”
“She’s sure. Purple hair, lavender jacket.”
Of all the court members I’d suspected, Turren had never made the list. He was vain, self-absorbed, occasionally ridiculous, but harmful? The man spent more time worrying about his reflection than anything else in the world.
Through the window, I watched the figure reach the greenhouse door. No theatrical flourish and no pause to check his appearance in any reflective surface. Just purposeful movement completely at odds with everything I knew about Lord Turren’s personality.
Magic flared briefly around his hands as he unlocked the door.
“Why sneak?” Sasha whispered.
Turren disappeared inside, and the door swung shut behind him.
I looked at Sasha. “Let’s go.”
We left the shed and rushed toward the greenhouse, arriving in time to see Lord Turren’s hands lift and the same blue-white glow intensify.
I wrenched open the door and we hurried inside.
Savory swooped into the greenhouse behind us and perched on an overturned pot, glaring the lord’s way.
His usually perfect hair stood out in every direction, and dark circles hung beneath his eyes. But his appearance didn’t matter if he was actively sabotaging the court.
He whispered something, his hands swaying over the plants, casting magic.
Rage flooded through me. These flowers represented hope for my people. The thought of a person I’d known for years, someone I’d considered harmless, deliberately harming the plants, made my blood boil.
“Lord Turren,” I snarled. “Step away from the plants.”
He gasped, spinning around with his hands lifting. Magic still glowed around his fingers, casting shadows across his face. “Your Majesty! I wasn’t—I didn’t—”
“Now.” Authority rang out in my voice, the command of a king who’d caught someone threatening his people.
Turren backed away from the flowers, his hands shaking. “Please, I can explain.”
“I’m sure you can.” I stepped farther into the greenhouse, Sasha at my side. “But we’re doing this in my office. Move.”
“But I—”
“Now, Lord Turren.”
He looked between us, confusion and fear crossing his face. Finally, he nodded and preceded us out of the greenhouse.
Savory followed, flying over to ride on Sasha’s shoulder.
The walk to my office felt surreal. How many times had I shared meals with this man? How many court functions had we attended together, making small talk about fashion and appearances and all the other things that seemed to define Turren’s existence?
It had all been a performance. While I was trying to find new ways to describe hairstyles and fashions to make him feel at ease, he’d been studying the court’s weaknesses while pretending to care only about his reflection.
Sasha’s hand brushed mine as we climbed the stairs. She was thinking strategically. I could tell from the way her eyes tracked the lord’s movements.
We reached my office, and I gestured him toward a chair while positioning myself behind my desk. The physical authority of the space helped steady me. Sasha came over to stand beside me, studying Lord Turren’s face.
Savory left Sasha’s shoulder and landed on my desk, her black eyes fixed on the lord with an intensity that made him flinch.
“Your Majesties,” he said, his voice coming out thin and reedy. “I truly don’t understand what’s happening. Have I done something to offend you?”
I studied him across the desk. His rumpled appearance suggested guilt.
“We know about the underground chamber,” I said, keeping my voice level. “The dampening crystals. The systematic corruption of our court’s emotional magic.” I leaned forward. “How long have you been working to destroy us?”
Lord Turren’s face went slack with shock. “What chamber? What crystals?” His gaze darted between Sasha and me. “I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”
“The Severance Arts,” Sasha said, her tone sharp. “Emotional purification rituals designed to cut courts off from their magical foundations. Someone has been implementing them here for a very long time.”
“And you think…” The lord’s voice broke. “You think I would do that? This is my home.”
“We caught you inside the greenhouse,” I said. “You were casting magic on the replacement plants. We saw you.”
“The moonbell orchids.” He slumped in his chair, his face slacking with misery. “I just wanted a few preserved moonbell blossoms.”
Sasha tilted her head. “Why?”
“Because I’m fading.” The words burst out of him, and he gestured to his body. “Look at me. Really look. My hair has lost its former luster. My skin is as dull as old bread. The natural glow I’ve spent years cultivating is disappearing.”
I blinked, caught off guard by this when I’d been expecting a whimpered confession.
“All that giggling messed with my appearance. And the wilting plants only made it worse. They’re affecting everyone differently.
Some people are just uncomfortable. But me?
” His laugh came out bitter. “My appearance is falling apart. The one thing I’ve always been able to control, the one thing that makes me feel like myself, is slipping away. ”
“That’s why you snapped at Lady Featherby,” Sasha said softly.
“She made me realize how bad this is.” Turren pressed his hands to his face.
“I know it was wrong to yell at her. I’ve apologized.
But her suggestions made me start thinking.
I did some research and moonbell orchid blossoms are the answer.
I know I’m vain. I know people think I’m ridiculous.
But this is who I am, and watching myself fade has been a true tragedy.
” He looked up, meeting my eyes. “Why would I hurt the plants that can make me more beautiful?”
He wasn’t our villain. Lord Turren’s vanity, which had always seemed harmless, made him the least likely saboteur. He needed the court’s emotional magic more than almost anyone.
Guilt twisted in my stomach. “Lord Turren, I—”
“I thought you knew me better than this, Your Majesty.” Pain colored his voice. “We’ve shared meals. We’ve discussed lace together. And you thought I would harm our court?”
“The evidence suggested it could be you.” The excuse felt hollow.
My mother’s betrayal had made me paranoid, seeing deception where there was nothing. I’d let my fear of being fooled again cloud my judgment about someone I’d known for years.
“You can have the moonbell orchids after the festival,” I said. “All of them. And I’m sorry for this accusation.”
Turren stood, his movements stiff. “Thank you, Your Majesty. Though perhaps next time you might simply ask rather than assume the worst of me.”
He left without his usual theatrical flair, a wounded man who’d been wrongly accused by someone he trusted.
Savory flew out of my office behind him.
The door closed, and silence filled the office.
“We followed the evidence we had,” Sasha said.
“But I should’ve known it couldn’t be him. If we’d waited, we would’ve seen he wasn’t there to harm the plants.” I ran my hand through my hair. “Lord Turren’s not capable of this kind of deception.”
“Which means the real saboteur is still out there. And the festival is tomorrow.”
Failure pressed down on my shoulders. We’d wasted precious time interrogating the wrong person while whoever was actually behind this had free access to everything we’d set up.
Damn.
Sasha stiffened, her hand snapping out to grip my arm. “Sasha says something’s wrong inside the greenhouse.” She paled. “The magical alarms aren’t working.”
My stomach dropped. “Not working how?”
“She says there’s a strange emptiness where the plants should be.” She met my eyes. “Dominic, I think we need to—”
I was already moving, racing out of my office with Sasha right behind. Dread settled in my chest, that horrible certainty that disaster had already struck while we’d been distracted.
We’d been played. Completely and thoroughly manipulated into focusing on Lord Turren while the real fiend had all the time they needed to destroy our trap.
The greenhouse loomed ahead, its glass walls reflecting moonlight. Everything looked normal from the outside, but my magical senses recoiled from the building before we got close.
Something was deeply wrong inside.
I threw open the door and came to a halt.
The replacement plants weren’t just wilted; they were completely dead, blackened and shriveled as if they’d been burning from the inside. The magical alarms we’d carefully positioned around the greenhouse and the cave entrance hadn’t given us warning, though I had no idea why.
The emotional void radiating from the space felt like a wound that would never heal. This was absolute severance, a complete cutting off of all emotional magic from this area.
“While we were interrogating Lord Turren,” I said, my voice hollow, “the real saboteur arrived and did…this.”
Sasha hurried through the greenhouse, examining the devastation with horror on her face. “They destroyed our chance at catching them.”
I knelt beside one of the dead plants, reaching out with my magic to see if anything could be salvaged, but I found nothing but empty husks.
“This is someone who thinks several moves ahead,” I said. “Someone who could predict exactly how we’d react to seeing Lord Turren act suspiciously.”
“Who could handle something this sophisticated?”
Someone patient and methodical. A person who’d positioned themselves as a regular court member with the sole intention of undermining my court’s magical foundations.
The festival would begin tomorrow evening. If they struck then, during the height of emotional energy and celebration, they could permanently cut our court off from the magic that defined who we were.
My people would be left hollow, unable to feel the deep connections that gave our lives meaning. The court would survive in body but die in spirit.
Unless we stopped them.
I stood and tugged Sasha into my arms, holding her, needing her support as much as I ached to give it to her.
Magic flickered away from us and a few of the still surviving plants along the edges of the greenhouse shivered, proof that our connection was strong.
“They think they’ve won,” I said. “They think there’s nothing left we can do to stop them.”
Her eyes met mine, and I found my determination reflected back at me.
“But they’ve made one mistake,” I said. “They’ve threatened my people, and I won’t allow it to continue.”
Around us, a single orchid, one we’d missed in our initial assessment, began to straighten. Its blackened petals slowly regained color, responding to the emotional connection flowing between Sasha and me.
It wasn’t much. It wouldn’t save the festival or stop whatever this person had planned.
But it was a start.
Stepping back, I took Sasha’s hand, squeezing it. “I’ve got a plan, and we’ll put it into place tomorrow.”