Page 95 of Silver in the Bone

“Why not Tamsin-on-a-Lark?” he asked. “I could add a little fun to your life—”

“Keep talking and you’ll end up buried in the same dirt you just turned over,” I warned.

He laughed. “Fine, fine. The soil here is about as starved for nutrients as the people are. I’m putting eggshells and ash in—to add some potassium and raise the pH of the soil. We’ll see if it works.”

I raised a brow. “Emrys Dye ... you’re a bit of a nerd, aren’t you?”

“Had you fooled, didn’t I?” he said, the cocky smile slightly undermined by the specks of dirt splattered on his face.

“So, back in the guild library, you weren’t bragging about dating three girls at once,” I said, “or about how you can talk your way into any bar in Boston, or how you’ve crashed three of your father’s priceless cars street racing? I hallucinated all that?”

“I don’t see how any of those things are a contradiction. A guy can contain multitudes, can’t he?” His grin only deepened, and when he leaned closer, I didn’t pull back. For whatever wild, stupid, or stubborn reason, I didn’t want to. “I didn’t realize you’d been keeping an eye on me.”

I put a hand on his chest and pushed him away, desperately hoping I hadn’t flushed. “What’s the point of doing all this gardening? It’s just wasted effort.”

He cocked his head, considering the neat lines of herbs. “Is it?”

I blew out a harsh breath through my nose, my fingers curling into fists at my sides. “Why is it so hard for them to accept the truth of what they’re up against?”

“You’re not telling them anything they don’t already know, Tamsin. They’re just trying not to let it crush them.”

“But what are they doing about it?” I asked. “What are they actually doing to reverse any of this?”

“Maybe that’s why we’re here,” he said. “Maybe Neve’s right and it’s our job to figure it out for them.”

“That’s absolutely not why we’re here,” I told him, “and you know it. How are you going to explain this to Madrigal?”

“Still working that one out, but I’m sure there’s another rare bauble or weapon she’ll want.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Hopefully.”

“Did Madrigal ever tell you why she wanted it?”

I don’t know why I asked him; he hadn’t been forthcoming about anything before now.

Emrys frowned, absently trying to twist his missing signet ring. “No. Neve has no idea either?”

I watched him a moment longer, trying to sense any trace of deceit. “Neve’s had limited contact with the Sistren.”

“Makes sense” was all he said. It was like watching a fox slowly retreat into its burrow. His face was carefully blank. That wall inside me added another layer of stone.

“Why did you take the job from Madrigal?” I asked him again. “And why can’t you tell your father about it?”

“There’s no story there, Tamsin,” he said. “At least nothing like what you seem to be thinking.”

“Yeah?” I shot back. “And you know my thoughts?”

The look he gave me blurred the world around us. “I know you.”

My gaze met his for a long moment, and like everything between us, it became a fight—a refusal to be the one who looked away first.

A startled cry shattered whatever feeling had kept me rooted in place. Several people rushed past the garden and around the tower. Emrys and I exchanged a look, and then he was jumping over the wall and we were following them to whatever awaited us ahead.

A small crowd had gathered just at the base of the steps leading up into the tower. They were murmuring, not with worry or concern but excitement. As we wove our way up through them to the front, I took in their awestruck, reverent faces with a growing alarm. A few dropped to their knees, bowing their heads. Even Emrys stopped suddenly beside me, his face transforming with wonder.

“It’s singing,” he whispered.

I turned back toward the steps and saw it.

A single white rose, risen through a split in the stone step, its lovely, delicate face full and laced with tendrils of white mist.

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