As we head toward the garden, Jayle has made himself scarce. I’m a little impressed with how he talks to The Queen. Nobody in my castle would ever speak to the royal family that way. I would know.

  Maybe it’s a good sign Jayle isn’t dead or in a dungeon. Maybe that should give me some hope that, no matter how badly I screw up, things will turn out okay as long as an idiot like him is still running around.

  Or maybe I’m wrong, and I still have everything to worry about. It’s too soon to tell.

  We descend another oddly placed flight of stairs on our way to the garden. My mental map of the castle unfurls in my mind, each new hallway a piece in an ever-growing puzzle. Eventually, we reach another huge set of doors. When The Queen opens them, wind and sunlight rush in.

  The stone pathway here is old and worn, and it’s fighting a losing battle against the weeds. Similarly haphazard flower beds dot the area, some filled with tiny plants while most are torn up, overrun with thorns, or just dirt. Naturally grown walls surround the entire place, casting shadows over several of the beds, and a single closed gate leads to some place behind the castle. Only a couple gardeners are digging around here and there. The Queen leads us to a worker planting flowers.

  “Hello!” She gives a small wave. “You’re Marnie, correct?” She really does know everyone’s name.

  The servant shoots up and dusts off her clothes. Her eyes are drawn to mine for a moment, although she looks away as if trying not to stare. She’s in plain clothes, her brown tunic and tan sash caked in dirt. Faint wrinkles on her face and strands of gray in her reddish-brown hair mark her age. One of those odd tattoos wraps around her neck, too.

  She opens her mouth. “Y-yes. How…I assist you, My Queen?” As she speaks Suthic, her accent is extremely thick, and she uses the Draconic word for queen at the end.

  “Well, Prince Ashura requested we spend some time gardening together. Would you mind if we helped you here?”

  Marnie’s ears tilt downward in confusion. The Queen repeats the same question in Draconic, and Marnie finally nods along.

  “Not at all, it is an honor to have you here,” she says in Draconic. She turns to me, and in Suthic, manages to say, “Good to have you.” Marnie steps aside, gesturing to the box of tools and a crate of small plants. “I’m…readying to plant.”

  I really, sincerely want to respond in Draconic, but The Queen starts talking and my moment passes. “Excellent!” She crouches down in front of the stones and looks up at me. “Well, Ashura?”

  I crouch next to her, about a foot between us. I set my knees right on the earthy stones.

  “Um, what should we do first?” The Queen looks at Marnie. The servant passes us a couple of hand trowels, then grabs a few plants for us. I take one in my hands, impressed by its biodegradable pot.

  Right away, I start digging out a small hole. Feeling the dirt between my fingers almost helps me forget all the embarrassment and worry from earlier. I glance over at The Queen, who is awkwardly stabbing the soil with her trowel.

  “Um, My Queen, if I may—” Marnie’s speaking Draconic again, and she takes her own trowel and begins showing The Queen what to do. “You’ll want to move the dirt aside like this, then make the hole big enough—”

  “Like this?”

  “Yes, like that! Now you take the plant—”

  I tune them out and breathe deeply, taking in the scent of upturned dirt. Closing my eyes, I steadily remove the plant from its pot. As I break up its roots, the damp and grainy soil is familiar beneath my fingertips. Beyond The Queen and Marnie’s chatter, I can hear the gentle symphony of nature: birds singing, trees rustling, leaves coming loose in the wind.

  For the first time since I got here, my jaw unclenches, and my brow unfurrows. I place the little plant into its hole, cupping the soft soil around it.

  How long has it been since I’ve planted something? The last time I visited the gardens back home wasn’t long after I met Rosalind.

  The thought of her sends a shudder through me, like a cold wind piercing this otherwise perfect scene. I try not to think about it, but it can’t be helped. Her disgusted face is still burned into my mind. And her words…

  “You expect me to get down there in that filth? What kind of date is this?”

  “No,” I wanted to say. “I didn’t ask you to come here.” But instead, I stayed silent.

  It was always easier to stay silent.

  The winter storm of a memory fades as I shake my head. I focus on the here and now, the warm sunlight on my skin and the cool soil against my hands. She can’t reach me here. If I’m lucky, I’ll never, ever see her again.

  “Oh, what if I break the stem?”

  “Ah, My Queen, you have to—no, like this—”

  I look over at them. The Queen is struggling to pull her plant out of its pot. She keeps trying to grab the plant itself, and her claws are threatening to cut into the delicate stem.

  “You’ll want to squeeze the pot first,” I say. I reach out, almost grabbing it, but I stop. She’s looking at me now. “Um. To loosen the dirt. Then the plant will come easily.”

  “But what about the roots? I don’t want to mess them up.” Her ears droop, and I realize something. For all her skills as queen, whether that be running the kingdom, talking to people, or even performing magic when necessary, she knows absolutely nothing about plants.

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Like a curtain pulled back, for just a moment, the dragon in front of me changes. A little grin twinges around my mouth at the thought, but I smother it just as quick. “That’s okay. The plant can handle it. Why don’t I show you?”

  “Okay.” She hands it to me.

  I work the pot for a second. “You’ll want to press on it like this. Then,” I tip it over and allow the plant and its dirt to slide right out, “There isn’t much resistance. You’ll probably want to break up its roots a little, too.”

  “Break up its roots?” Lantana gives me a devastated expression.

  “Like this.” I pull at the roots tangled in the bottom of the dirt. “That way, the plant will have an easier time when we introduce it to new soil.”

  Marnie leans over to get a better look at me. “Wow, this prince works the plants like an expert!” she says to Lantana. “I think the saplings like him.”

  Well, I never considered “friend of saplings” to be a title of mine, but it’s nice to know something here doesn’t mind my presence. Is that a spell of hers, understanding plants? Now there’s magic I’d like to learn.

  I place the plant and its loose soil back in Lantana’s claws. “Now, you just put it in the ground and press the dirt around it.”

  She cups it gently and puts it in the hole. Then, she scoops dirt around the stem. “Like that?”

  “Yeah! Now you’ve got it.” I give her an appraising smile.

  She stares at me for a long moment. It’s like all at once, her usual queenly aura has dropped, leaving behind a blank expression I can’t quite extrapolate the meaning of.

  “It looks like you two have this bed managed,” Marnie says. She stands, then looks at me. In Suthic, she tells me, “I let you alone. Good planter.”

  I smile at Marnie as she walks away, again missing the chance to clarify my proficiency in Draconic.

  Lantana blinks, then returns my smile with a light smirk. “Could you show me how to do that again?”

  “Of course.” I scoot down to another section of the bed. Lantana grabs a couple pots and follows me. I take my trowel and begin digging out another hole.

  “Now how do you do that?” She leans over my shoulder to look at the dirt. “What’s your technique?”

  I don’t know if it’s the sun or her breath on my neck that’s making my face hot. I glance at her, a little confused. “Um, I just dig.”

  “Oh, right, right.” She leans away, takes her trowel, and follows my lead.

  I grab my plant and repeat the steps to take it out of its pot. Lantana copies, but her movements are stilted and clumsy. She crushes the pot too much, causing the material to rip and lose some of its dirt.

  “Ah, I can’t get this step right. Could you show me how you press the pot again?”

  “Oh. Okay.” I reach over to her pot but pause. Lantana seems smart. It can’t be that complicated, can it? “It looks like yours is pressed enough. Try tipping it upside-down.”

  “Ohhh, I see.” She flips it and dumps the plant onto her palm.

  “Careful!” I find myself saying the word on instinct. “I mean, please be a little gentler. Try to pull it out with the dirt.”

  “Ah, okay. Sorry, I’m not sure I understand. Why don’t you show me with your plant?” She looks at me hopefully. There’s a glint in her eyes, and her clumsiness doesn’t sit right with me. It’s like she’s actively getting worse at this.

  I lean back and stare at her. All at once, I understand. “Are you making fun of me?”

  The Queen’s eyes widen instantly. “N-no! I really want you to show me how. I-I mean, I’m quite helpless with plants, and…” she trails off.

  I look away. Now, our interactions earlier are spinning in my mind, and I can’t stop thinking over every word I said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to patronize you.” This is what I get for letting my guard down. How could I be so stupid? She’s The Queen for sky’s sake, she doesn’t need my help.

  “No! You weren’t—I mean—” She stops talking. For a minute, we both sit in silence.

  When I glance at her again, she’s looking back at her plant. Her ears are flattened, and her tail twitches erratically. Great, I made her feel bad. It’s a new kind of shame, spurred by this unexpected reaction to my words.

  Usually, she would just tell me I was overreacting.

  The Queen finally looks at me. “You seemed eager to help me,” she explains. “I was only trying to coax that out of you again. I’m sorry if I came off as disingenuous.”

  I don’t say anything. Is she telling the truth?

  “It was real the first time,” she offers. “I’ve never planted something before, but you seem to know your way around a garden.” She leans back and looks up. “I guess I just want to understand you better. I want to know why here, of all places, is where you chose to go when I asked.”

  I stare down at the plants, focusing on patting the dirt and scooping it around the tiny stems. “Gardening makes me feel calm.” It takes me a moment to realize I said that out loud.

  “Really?”

  After a beat, I nod. “I used to do it all the time when I was having a bad day. That’s where I got my practice. But not so much anymore.”

  The Queen listens while my face starts to grow warm again. I’ve never shared this with anyone, at least not directly. Why now? Why her?

  “That’s sweet,” she says, her voice small. “Is that why you wanted to come here? Because you’ve been stressed?”

  Well, that’s one way to say it. “A bit.”

  “Can I ask why?”

  I open my mouth, then close it, the thoughts in my head swarming against the back of my lips and threatening to break through. Wanting to break through. Wanting so badly to escape into the world, lured by the gentleness of her voice.

  My eyes blink rapidly, and I don’t know if it’s because of the sun or the dust or something else.

  “Sorry, you don’t need to answer that. It’s obvious, anyways. Adjusting to life here in Lereon-Siv wasn’t easy for any of the humans at first.”

  With a sharp breath, I flatten the shake in my lungs and press my emotions back in order. I hate these almost-breaks, how they make me feel so fragile under the lightest of pressure. “Yeah. That’s all.”

  “Why did you stop going to the gardens, then?”

  I think for a long time about how I should answer. “It’s not very prince-like. Certainly not right for a noble to be digging around in the dirt.”

  “What are you talking about?” I sense her lean toward me. “We’re here now, aren’t we? And are we getting strange looks?”

  I guess we aren’t. I grab another plant and slowly help it escape its pot. “Things were different back home.”

  “Hm.” She leans back, grabbing her own pot and working away at it. As I suspected, her movements are unpracticed, but she’s a faster learner than she let on. “I’m glad you feel like you can do this here, then.”

  I let out a faint sigh, desperate to believe her words are genuine. “Me, too.”

  When I return to my room, I’m exhausted. We spent most of the day gardening. Then we toured more of the castle to see some meeting rooms, private libraries, places for dragons to lounge, and more, all still in our dirty clothes. The day capped off with a nice dinner of some kind of poultry with The Queen’s family. It turns out dragons are better at cooking bird meat; it’s one of the few things they don’t eat raw.

  All things considered, the day wasn’t too bad. I had nearly forgotten our awkward moment once we got back into the rhythm of planting. Nearly.

  The Queen was more than apologetic for what happened, though I’m still not sure why. It seemed like my fault more than hers, but I’d rather not fight with her about it. It’s not my place to give my opinion.

  After dinner, I’m just ready to crash.

  I change and run some hot water for a bath. When I’m done, I pick a pair of pajamas out of my suitcase. I still haven’t fully unpacked. It’s only been a few days, but my old life feels like an eternity away.

  I glance around the room, realizing something. The suit I wore yesterday is nowhere around, and certainly not on the sofa where I left it. A servant must have come by to wash it. I’m not sure how I feel about anyone poking around the room, even if it is to do my laundry.

  I barely have time to think about it. As soon as my head hits my pillow, I pass out.