Tall trees surround me, glowing sunlight seeping past their lattice-like canopy of leaves. Grass tickles my face, and the sweet scent of flowers fills the air. The cool dirt beneath me battles with the faint warmth of the sun.

  Where am I?

  I sit up, taking in the grove. The grass and flowers wave as if tussled by wind, but I don’t feel a breeze. When I look at them, I can’t pin down their species, the petals and leaves an apparent mishmash of different plants. Beyond my little pocket of sunlight and past the trees, there’s only darkness.

  “H-hello?” I call. I climb to my feet and look around.

  “You’re asleep,” a voice says. I whip around. Alcina is there, standing on the edge of the trees. “Finally.”

  “What’s going on? How did I get here?”

  She raises a hand. “Don’t panic. This is a dream.”

  “Oh.” Her words strike fear in me. “You can see my dreams?” Have I had nightmares about Rosalind since I got here? I can’t even remember; they all blend together.

  “No. This isn’t your dream. I brought you here.” Alcina steps toward me. “We figured this may be the safest avenue to contact you. We didn’t want to alarm you or embarass you in front of the guards.”

  “Oh.” So unfortunately, everything that happened yesterday wasn’t a dream. I cross my arms. “What’s going to happen?” I mumble. “What is The Queen going to do with me?”

  “You’ll need to hear that answer from her. Do you want me to bring her here? It’s a complex spell, but she’s a quick learner.”

  “N-no!” I wave my hands. “We can…we can talk when I’m awake.”

  Alcina nods. “Understood.” She stands there for a moment, and her form wavers, as if on the brink of leaving the plane. “You heard us, didn’t you?”

  I blink. “Wh-what?”

  “You can speak Draconic.”

  I lower my head. “Yes. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” Alcina looks away. “We shouldn’t have spoken behind your back.”

  Neither of us say anything for a moment. I’m surprised she’s already deduced that, but I suppose you don’t become an archmage without some observation skills.

  “She’s very concerned for you,” she continues.

  I don’t reply, so she keeps talking.

  “I’m sure she doesn’t want me to tell you this, but…” Alcina looks left and right, as if someone could be listening. “She’s worried about your happiness. She was for all the humans, but for you especially. She told me—” Alcina stops herself.

  “What did she tell you?” I murmur.

  She shakes her head. “I apologize, it’s not my place to repeat. Just trust me, the words she says when she’s at her worst are not a fraction of all I hear from her about you. She’s fond of you, I can tell.”

  I stand up straight. She’s fond of me? How? We barely know one another.

  “That’s enough from me. When you’re ready to meet with her, Prince, she will find you. Please, don’t take too long.” Before I can ask anything else, in a wisp of smoke, the archmage vanishes.

  The garden around me falls away, and I jolt awake in the bedroom. Moonlight shines in from the roof, peppering the moss carpet with grays and blues. Was any of that real?

  Regardless, it’s a problem for tomorrow. I pull my covers around me and try to fall back asleep.

  I don’t feel like getting out of bed. In fact, I want nothing more than to wallow. But the sunlight won’t let me go back to sleep, not while it’s burning past my eyelids.

  The weight of everything is like a million pounds of dirt on my chest, burying me alive. What am I supposed to do? Should I find The Queen and talk to her? Should I ask to go home before she can send me back so at least it’s on my terms? Should I run away?

  I thought if I came here, I might have a chance of being happy. But I've already proven to everyone that I'm an idiotic, unstable freak.

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  How could The Queen love me after that? How could anyone?

  Maybe it won't be so bad if I go back to her…at least I won't be alone. If I beg for forgiveness, will she—

  I shut down the thought immediately and force myself out of bed. No, absolutely not. What kind of awful thought was that? I'm such a mess.

  I need to get out of this room. The unfamiliar walls will just suffocate me again. But where can I go? Where will I not be bothered?

  Tentatively, I open my door. A new guard is waiting outside. He glances at me uneasily but doesn't say anything.

  "I'm going to the gardens," I say. "The, um, North Garden."

  The guard nods briskly. "Very well. Would you like a guide?"

  I trace my mental map of the castle. "No, I don't think so."

  "I understand. Stay safe, little prince."

  I step into the hallway. The castle isn't any quieter than usual. In fact, it's chaotic as ever, and most dragons nod to me like absolutely nothing happened. But a few look at me knowingly. Enough do.

  When I step outside into fresh air, it’s already easier to breathe. Away from all the noise, this garden is a quiet sanctuary. No stares, no responsibility, no space to ruminate. I recognize Marnie again, digging in another flowerbed.

  On my way over, I pass the flowers The Queen and I planted. They're so small and fragile, as if a stray wind will knock them over. Yet, a couple are trying to form tiny buds already, as if there’s no tomorrow.

  Marnie spots me and stands up. In Suthic, she says, "H-hello. Need help?"

  I nod. In Draconic, I respond, "If you don't mind, may I join you?" My accent is a little rusty, but it gets the job done.

  She looks at me in surprise, then switches languages. "You speak Draconic?"

  "I do. Probably should have said so earlier, huh?" Might have saved me a bit of mental turmoil.

  Marnie grins. "Weird little human. Of course, you are always welcome here."

  I crouch down in front of the flower bed and take a trowel. Already, with the tool in my hands, I feel marginally better. "I'm actually tall for a human, you know. Yet everyone still calls me little."

  "You are as tall as my son. He is ten."

  Ouch. I start digging, taking my time to relish the texture and cool dampness of the dirt. Freeing a small plant from its pot is almost second nature to me now. I gently place it in the ground, allowing my eyes to drift out of focus while I terraform the earth in front of me.

  A cool breeze whisps leaves, and I watch them flutter away before falling gently. When I fixate on the motion of the leaves, the widest ones rocking back and forth in the wind, my breathing seems to match. I take in the steady scent of the earth and all its complexities, backdropped with the sweet-smelling flowers nearby.

  Slowly, I can feel myself unwind.

  It’s hard to get caught up in all the little things when I’m here. When I’m doing something so simple, yet deceptively complex. I wonder how my life would have been if I had been born of low reputation, and if I had found my way into the gardens as a job rather than for leisure. Would things have been different? Is it even worth thinking about, here and now, when there’s no way to change the past?

  “Something on your mind, little prince?” Marnie asks.

  I look at the flower bed and grab another plant. It’s nice to imagine how these flowers will look in time, how beautifully they’ll bloom once they’ve gotten the water and sunlight they need. “You could say that.”

  “Hm.” She tilts her head.

  Has she heard about what happened yesterday? Or is it her intuition?

  “You know what I think?”

  I glance at her. Life advice? Right now? She’s awfully bold.

  “I think that we should plant bluebells on the perimeter of these beds. They aren’t native to these lands, but the high walls should stop them from spreading beyond the castle.” She waves her claw in front of her, gesturing to the unfinished flower beds. “And then, in the center, we could place some bushes. Do you have any ideas?”

  I lift my gaze to the beds. What would look good there? I’m not feeling creative today. “I’m not sure.”

  “What about roses? Those are always a hit.”

  “No,” I say automatically. “I-I mean, no roses, please.”

  “Not a fan of the thorns? Well, then, how about peonies? Half the castle can’t tell the difference, anyways.”

  Hm. Peonies? I didn’t think they looked much like roses, but then again, not everyone pays as much attention to flowers as I do. “I like that idea.”

  “Peonies it is, then. I’ll have some seeds ordered right away. Have you seen our nursery?”

  I shake my head.

  “Maybe I can show it to you when the seeds arrive.” She finishes steadying the plant in front of her and stands up. “Thank you for returning. It’s nice to have a little helper.”

  Little helper? Oh well. “Of course. I like it here.” I look at my plant and fidget with the dirt a little more, patting it down slowly and deliberately.

  “I wish my son loved plants as much as you do.” She shakes her head. “I try to get him to come out here, but he complains about the dirt and bugs.”

  Sounds like someone I know. I shudder and let the thought blow away with the breeze. “He’s only ten. Maybe he’ll…” I trail off for a second. “When he’s older, I’m sure he’ll come to his senses. He’s lucky to have a mother like you.”

  Marnie laughs. “You barely know me! Ah, but you seem like a good judge of character. I’m flattered.”

  She could not be more wrong. Lately, it seems like every judgment I’ve made has been detrimental to my health and wellbeing.

  Marnie walks to the other side of the bed and begins planting again. We sit in comfortable silence for a while longer, until there are no more seedlings left to plant.

  I wipe my brow, the sunlight starting to get to me. I’m not sure how long I’ve been here. One thing I do know is that I’m insanely hungry. And yet, I don’t think I’m ready to leave this little sanctuary. The world outside feels more oppressive the more I think about it.

  But I can’t avoid it forever. I drink in the sensation of the garden; the feeling of the dirt, the smells of the earth, the sound of leaves rustling, the sight of small plants breaking through the ground. I hold it in my mind as I stand. “I’d better get going. Thank you, Marnie.”

  She waves and dusts off her clothes. “You’re very welcome, little prince.”

  I wave back to her as I approach the door. But when I reach for the handle, it opens in front of me.

  The Queen is on the other side.