Chapter Ten
“How did you even know to look for this?” I looked up from the book to the Vila.
Lady Mariya, Head Archivist of the Seelie Court, sat across from Tiernan and me at a round library table near the door.
Bookshelves partitioned off the huge central space, giving each table a feeling of privacy even though the shelves were only waist high.
It didn't matter that our voices would carry throughout the main area. It was empty but for us.
The book Mariya had brought to us predated the last Seelie Queen by over a thousand years. Condensed into solid form now, I could see her stunning features—pointed chin, big eyes, pert nose, and a fall of wild hair that shone as bright as Tiernan's platinum roots.
Lady Mariya's doll-like mouth pursed before she answered. “I am the Head Archivist.”
Tiernan shot me a look.
“Oh,” I said. “Yes, of course.” I looked down at the picture of a garden drawn on the left page. I didn't even try to read what was written on the left.
This was one of those times when I wished I had learned the Fey language. I couldn't read the book. Although knowing how to read Fey may not have helped me in this instance. It was written in an archaic version. Even Tiernan was having trouble with it.
“The Garden of Regret?” Tiernan asked. “Is that a correct translation?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” She glanced at me, and I saw the comprehension that I didn't comprehend hit her. She gave me a patient smile.
Great, now I feel like an idiot. Ask something smart, Seren! “Uh, what is that?” Yeah, way to go. Scholar, you are not.
“Many years ago, there was a tradition when a new monarch took the throne.” Mariya sat back and spread out her hands, the tips of her fingers going nebulous. “It helped them adjust to ruling and focus on what was best for the kingdom.”
“It helped them focus?” I lifted an eyebrow at Tiernan.
But he was busy reading.
“Tiernan.” I elbowed him.
He flinched and looked up, but not at me. “Lady Mariya, am I reading this correctly? Does this say that evil was cut from the new king or queen?”
The archivist peered at the passage Tiernan pointed at and then turned the book to face her. “Ah, not exactly, Your Majesty. Shall I translate for you both?”
“Yes, please.” Tiernan slid the book back to her. “This is almost like a foreign language to me.”
Mariya smiled. “The old words can be tricky.” She looked down. “Ah, all right. What it says is that the dark emotions that can cloud judgment were pruned away. Dark, not evil, and pruned, not cut.”
“Pruned?” I whispered. “You said, pruned?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
I shared a horrified look with Tiernan. “Pruning makes a garden grow.”
“Yes, this must be what Rowan meant.” Tiernan smoothed his hair back. “Lady Mariya, are you familiar with this pruning ritual?”
“I witnessed it once, but it was so long ago. I only attended because it was the first time the ritual was performed.” She frowned. “King Solas was ascending the throne. I believe he was the one who Danu spoke to and offered the garden.”
“Danu offered the garden to him?” I asked. “She made it?”
“She made everything, my Queen.”
I grimaced. “Well, I don't know about everything, but I get your meaning.”
“So, Danu made the garden and spoke to King Solas,” Tiernan prompted. “Do you recall what happened?”
Mariya's gaze grew distant.
At least, I think it grew distant. Her entire face went a bit translucent, so it was difficult to tell.
Then she solidified herself and refocused on us. “We attended him. It was a great procession. The entire Seelie Court marched with the King into a mountain cavern. In the cavern was a garden of beautiful flowers and climbing vines. So lovely, and yet the air felt heavy with sorrow.”
“Interesting,” Tiernan murmured. “Go on, Lady Mariya.”
“There were words spoken.” She tapped the book. “They are recorded here if you need them. But I believe the King conducted most of the ritual himself, guided by the Goddess. I remember him cutting himself on one of the flowers.”
“He cut himself?” I asked. “On a thorn, you mean?”
“No, on a flower petal, Your Majesty. They had sharp edges. King Solas merely tapped a point, and it drew blood. He let his blood fall onto the rock beside the bloom, and a new flower sprouted as if he had planted a seed in soil.” She looked away.
“I seem to remember his face going blank. He had to . . . uh, let me see.” She read the book for a few minutes.
“Ah, here. Yes, the monarch must focus on what emotions hinder them.” She looked up at us.
“Often, it is regret. That is what King Solas pruned from himself, and the reason he imparted that name upon the Garden.”
“The Garden of Regret.” I looked from her to Tiernan and back. “King Tiernan was touched by a black, glossy tendril of blight, and it took some of his emotions.”
“You were touched, Your Majesty?” Lady Mariya's pale blue eyes widened.
“Yes, the blight rose from the ground and attacked many people. It covered them in black, glossy ribbons—vines perhaps.” Tiernan made a spiraling motion with his finger. “Several victims were cocooned in these vines, but the Queen saved me from that fate. I was only touched for a few seconds.”
“And yet you were pruned?”
Tiernan frowned. “I don't know. This sounds similar, but how would this garden be reaching through the soil, and why would it attack people?”
Lady Mariya shook her head. “I don't know, Your Majesty. Magic of this sort—a harvesting magic—often needs to be fed. This garden has not been tended in centuries. It may be starving. Perhaps it has to resort to this to survive.”
“Tell me more.” Tiernan waved at the book. “What happened to the monarchs that pruned their emotions? Did those feelings ever return?”
“One moment.” She read and reread a few pages. At last, she met Tiernan's gaze. “The garden doesn't take your ability to feel. It only takes the feeling itself. Do you understand?”
“It takes the emotions that linger? Those that we feel and stay with us.”
“Yes, Your Majesty. The emotions that haunt and hinder. It takes them, but you can still react to new stimuli. Your soul does not stop feeling.”
“I see.”
“Why would you do that?” I asked.
“It was meant to help a new monarch.” Lady Mariya shrugged, the tops of her shoulders drifting away.
“As I'm sure you know, the first few years of ruling can be stressful.
I'm told that Kings and Queens must make decisions based upon reason instead of emotion. Pruning away regrets and sorrow, things of that nature, helped them to rule with reason alone. Just as an overgrown plant flourishes after you prune it back. But it was a pruning, not a weeding. Do you see? The specific emotions were taken, but the monarch could still feel new regrets and new sorrows.”
“Oh, I get it.” I glanced at Tiernan in relief. He'd return to normal.
Tiernan met my gaze but then returned to questioning the Archivist. “But even if this is the work of that garden, we don't know if it will function the same.”
“I'd venture to say it won't, Your Majesty,” Mariya said. “It's attacking. Taking, not receiving. The rules, whatever they were, have either changed or are gone entirely.”
“I've got several victims who are lacking their softer emotions, Lady Mariya. They are all numb versions of themselves. Do you think this is permanent?”
“Again, if this is the Garden of Regret, this is a new facet of it. I cannot say what it has done to any of the victims. I just hope that with the brief touch upon you, you were not greatly affected.”
“I don't think I was.” Tiernan glanced at me. “But those who know me best say I am different.”
“Honestly, I'm grateful for your calm, Tiernan,” I said. “But I don't want you dampened or numbed either.”
“Neither do I.” He frowned. “And yet, I can't help but feel this is for the best. I feel more capable. My mind is so clear. Sharp.”
Lady Mariya nodded. “That is what King Solas said. He felt more assured of himself after the pruning. He was very grateful to the Garden and Danu.”
“Do you remember where the cavern is?” I asked.
“Oh, dear,” she murmured. “It was so long ago. I . . . I believe it was to the east.” She stood up and wove around the low bookshelves dividing the central space, finally stopping at the very center area where a lectern stood to the side of the round table.
A massive book sat on the lectern. She hefted it into her arms and brought it back to us.
After laying it on the table, she flipped through the pages. “Let me see. Here we are.”
Lady Mariya pointed to a map that looked a lot like a section of a world map of Earth, showing Europe and Africa.
But it wasn't a map of Earth; it was a map of Fairy.
The location she indicated would have matched up with Ireland on Earth.
It was our current location—Castle Seelie.
But then she trailed her finger east, over where Europe would be, across to Turkey and Syria.
Of course, the continent was a little different from Earth, but I still got an idea of where it matched up.
It shouldn't have mattered. We were looking for somewhere on Fairy, not Earth.
But I'd been raised on Earth, so I automatically oriented myself based on Earth's continents.
Lady Mariya tapped the map. “I think it was here somewhere.”
“Northeastern Seelie,” Tiernan murmured.
I made a huffing sound that drew their attention to me. At their inquiring looks, I said. “That's the region where humans believe the Garden of Eden was on Earth.”
“The Garden of Eden?” Tiernan frowned. “Original sin.”
“Interesting.” I nodded. “It wouldn't be the first time the Twin Gods mirrored each other's actions.”
Tiernan looked back at the map. His expression shifted into epiphany.
“What is it?” I peered at the tiny names and symbols.
“Here, here, and here.” He pointed at places between Castle Seelie and the possible location of the Garden of Regret. “Those are the other villages that reported seeing the blight.”
I leaned back in my seat. “I think it's safe to conclude the blight's source is the Garden of Regret.”
“Yes. I think we have our culprit.”
“Is there a rath near any of them?”
“Yes, but I think we should drive the blight back as we go.” He glanced at me. “If we go to the source and destroy it, we may force the separated tendrils to become more aggressive. They could establish new gardens like clippings.”
“You're going to destroy the Garden of Regret?” Lady Mariya asked.
“You sound disapproving.” Tiernan raised an eyebrow.
“It is your decision, Your Majesty, but that garden holds pieces of Seelie monarchs going back to the beginning of the kingdom. Destroying it may lead to severe repercussions.”
“More severe than a blight of emotion-sucking darkness?” I drawled.
She didn't hesitate. “Yes.”
“Well, fuck.” I grimaced at Tiernan. “What do we do?”
“Consult Danu.”
I nodded. “I was wondering when you'd suggest that.”