Page 34 of Wicked Prince of Shadows
As soon as I reached the top landing, I covered my mouth and gasped.
The garden had erupted even more with life. Flowers, stalks, blossoms. But not a single trace of color. Every blossom, leaf, and vine was some shade of black, white, grey, charcoal, or cream. Beautiful in a strange, terrifying sort of way.
I laughed as I walked down the steps, pressing my fingers against the leaves and studying the bizarre plants. “How is any of this possible?” There had to be eidon magic somewhere here that was working with me because this was not all me.
Vines of smoky charcoal twined up pale grey trellises, their leaves long and elegant, veined in silvery ash. Flowers curled open in heavy black petals like velvet soaked in shadows or in delicate paper-thin ash blossoms. Some shimmered faintly, as if catching sunlight though even in the sparkle there wasn’t any trace of prismatic rainbows. Other flowers pulsed with a breathless kind of stillness, petals bowed as if in mourning. Fruit and vegetables sprouted from several of the plants, and sprigs of herbs erupted in great clusters, some of the planters so full that they were overcrowded.
I made my way around, trying to parse out the meaning of all this.
The arrow buds and all of the planters that had received blood were doing far better than those with just magic. The ones I had given my blood to had done the best of all. Those with the fresh blood from the deathbeak had also grown well while those with the reserved blood that had been in bowls and poured out had done better than those with just the magic. And not all that had the deathbeak blood were arrow buds.
I crouched down at the planter nearest the fountain and pressed my finger into the dirt. Not nearly so dry and brittle now. It smelled more like loamy soil, and there was a dampness to it as well as a greater richness.
This soil was hungry for life itself. My stomach twisted at that thought. There was an old saying that that which was made in blood craved blood. It was usually a warning against violence or magic whose basis started in taking someone else’s blood, but here it might have something more literal. I shuddered.
Something in the blood made them grow faster and fuller. And it wasn’t just my blood that did it. It made me wonder why the others had not done it before. Or maybe they had, and it stopped working?
The Hollow King had mentioned that everyone’s magic faded and blood stopped replenishing. I turned my hand over to examine it. Beneath the pale sunlight, it was hard to tell for certain, but was my deep bronze skin dulling and turning grey?
I rubbed my forearm down to my elbow. It was a little ashy, but that could easily have been from the dryness and lack of lotions. I gripped my arm tighter, not wanting to imagine what might be happening.
Heavy but steady footsteps drew my attention upward. Gehn and Lou had returned to their posts. I lifted my hand in greeting, and both nodded, neither chastising me for coming down here early.
Perhaps they knew I wouldn’t be making any runs for it anytime soon. And they would be right.
I started the long and arduous task of watering, annoyed once more that my skills with magic didn’t allow me to handle this all with words.
An hour had barely passed before rapid footsteps came up the other side and Osric skidded in alongside me. He flung his arms around my waist, then grabbed my arm. “It’s amazing! Can we play while you work?” Osric asked. Now that he was closer, I could see smaller stitches along the inside of his wrist. His four friends stared up at me with wide shining eyes, hanging back just a little.
I smiled, taking care not to brush the scars. All of them had these. Every single one.
The Hollow King’s words echoed in my mind, and my heart twisted to think of what they had had to endure. A knot formed in my throat, but I forced a smile. “Yes. Just be careful. And stay away from any of the plants that might actually bite or sting.”
“We’ll be careful. Most of the plants are sleepy anyway. You can play too when you’re done.” Osric hugged me again and then bolted, his friends chasing after him. Their boots squeaked on the marble as they raced up and down the stairs and investigated the trees and shrubs.
I picked up the bucket, filled it again, and hauled the water to the top tier. If I started up here, it would mean I was closest to the well at the end. On my third trip, I spotted movement down at the center of the garden.
The Hollow King stood before the small tree that had been nourished by my blood. The fruits growing on it had tripled in size overnight, their rinds a rich black. He cupped one in his hand without plucking it from the tree, then he shook his head and walked away. I almost called out to him, but I stopped myself.
What was wrong with me? He was still my enemy. Or at least an enemy of sorts. If he didn’t keep his word, I’d be trapped here.
Like everyone else.
And my gut warned me he would.
He had a whole kingdom to protect. Sacrificing one person’s life to save all the rest? The life of a stranger? It wasn’t even a contest.
My heart ached. I knew I was expendable.
A gentle hand tugged at my elbow. When I turned, I saw a tall woman in a grey dress with a charcoal sash. Her pale-grey hair had been twisted up in a bun, revealing her pointed ears and several stitches down her neck.
“Your Majesty, please forgive the intrusion,” she said, dipping her head forward. “I’m Candice. We’re from the kitchens.” She gestured to the five behind her, two women and three men. “I don’t mean to intrude, but Bren the chef told us how well the garden was coming and, by some miracle of magic and will, some of the plants are ready for harvest. May we please take some to the kitchens? They would be for the day’s meals as well as to reserve some for the dance.”
“It’s not my garden,” I said, somewhat surprised they were asking and flustered they called me ‘Your Majesty.’ All the kitchen workers had skin in various shades of grey, and most had wings that were folded down against their backs. Their eyes ranged in color from silver to amber to black. And all had those strange broad stitches on various parts of their bodies. They watched me with sharp but curious eyes, their expressions eager yet hopeful. “I’m just tending it. If the Hollow King says you can have it, then you can.”
“This is the Queen’s Garden.” Candice bowed again, her head bobbing with the gesture of respect. “King Vetle has told us to ask you. Whatever you say is to be done, should be done.”
Oh.
