by J A Armitage
Minister Blackwood handed the flower back to me when they were through. She opened her mouth, clearly wanting to say something, then closed it again and shook her head just barely.
I took my flower, covered the jar again, and returned to my seat.
The last few flowers passed in a blur. Relief at having gotten through my presentation flooded my body and turned my perception of the world a little fuzzy. But then, at last, it was time for the winners to be announced.
“The Star of the Sands,” Minister Acacia announced.
As one, the judges raised the cards they’d used to score Jinan’s flower. An eight, a seven, two more eights, a nine, and another seven.
Jinan stood and bowed in appreciation. The representative from Skyla passed their detailed score sheets to an assistant off to one side, who handed them to Jinan.
The next few flowers received similar scores. Then it was my turn.
My heart thumped hard enough to shake my rib cage. My stomach churned, and my skin prickled with a thousand sudden goosebumps.
This was my flower, the one I had tenderly cared for and shaped over the course of years. It was my last great offering to Lilian, a flower that shone with her beauty, tasted of her favorite fruits, and paid homage to her name.
They weren’t just judging my flower, or my gardening abilities, or my work as the head gardener of the palace of Floris.
They were judging my love, and I prayed with a silent please, please, please that I wouldn’t be found wanting.
The judge from Skyla raised her card.
Ten.
Minister Oleander: Ten.
Minister Acacia: Another ten.
I swallowed, and tears rose and prickled behind my eyes.
And then Duke Remington raised his hand. He fixed me with a glare that could have turned the earth barren.
One.
I smiled. It was the best score I could have hoped for from him, and in a strange way, I was honored to receive it.
The delegate from Draconis raised his card to reveal another ten, and then, after a teasing pause, Minister Blackwood revealed the final perfect score.
Five tens and a one. With Duke Remington at the judge’s table, I couldn’t have asked for a better result.
I swallowed, fighting to keep the tears from flooding my eyes. I stood and gave them a deep, grateful bow.
My lily beat the last few scores by a healthy margin. I watched it happen, the celebration in my head drowning out the sights and sounds around me, and I watched myself go up to the judge’s table afterward and thank them over and over again.
And then, before I could be mobbed by well-wishers or reporters or other gardeners asking for my secrets, I shoved the lily into Hedley’s waiting hands. He met my gaze, and I didn’t have to speak. He already knew.
I had to go.
Hedley had been right. The palace was virtually unguarded today; they were all back at the festival grounds, following the duke around or enjoying the festival under the guise of keeping the peace.
It was easy enough to sneak in through one of the servants’ doors, dart through the kitchen, and make my way up a back staircase. By the time I arrived at Lilian’s chambers, she was already in our old schoolroom waiting for me.
I closed the door behind me and turned the lock. She stood near the window, her golden hair framed by the sunlight, and stared at me.
“Deon, that was the prettiest thing I have ever seen.”
Warmth rushed through me. “You were there?”
“You dolt, of course, I was there! Garritt didn’t want me to be, of course, but I ducked in the back after the judging had already started. He couldn’t do anything about it without making a scene.”
“And here I thought the duke loved making scenes.”
“Not in public,” she said. “It’s the one thing I’ve got going for me.” She shook her head, like someone shaking away a fly.
“How did you know I was going to be here?”
“Hedley told me, of course.” A smile lit her features. “Deon, honestly, that was the most beautiful flower I’ve ever seen in my life. How did you do it? How did you keep it from getting ruined by the blight? Any why on earth haven’t I seen it before?”
She sank onto a cushioned stool in front of a screen of needlework and stared up at me, eyes wide and ready for explanations. I settled onto the floor across from her and looked up to her perfect face.
“It was for you, you know.”
“Of course, I know,” she said. “You made that for me, and it’s the best gift--I was going to say it’s the best gift I’ve ever been given, but it’s not. It’s the best gift I’ve ever even heard of.”
I grinned. “It’s just a flower.”
“Yes, and we Florians don’t care at all about those.”
I drew up my knees and wrapped my arms around them. “I’ve been working on it for years. You’ve almost seen it a couple of times, but I always managed to distract you at the last moment. And I don’t know how I kept it from the blight, except that my entire private garden looks like that.”
Her blue eyes widened. “It’s all lilies?”
I laughed. “It’s all alive, I mean. It’s some kind of magic that’s either in the garden or in me. We don’t know. Hedley and I are trying to figure it out.”
She twirled a lock of her hair around one of her fingers. “I wish you would. We need a miracle, and soon.”
“I know.” I sighed. The euphoria of winning the contest was still with me, but it was tempered by the reality that my beautiful flowers might soon be the only ones left. “I met a doctor today who reminded me how important our plants are. Not just to us, but the world. He’s from The Forge, but he came here to study our medicinal plants. What if we lose them? There are flowers and herbs that only grow here, and if they all die out, what does that mean for the rest of the world? We can import grain, and I suppose we could live without beauty if we had to.”
Lilian made a face, and I nodded my agreement.
“But what about medicine? What about the magical plants the rest of the world relies on Floris for?”
“That poor doctor,” Lilian said. “To come to research our herbs and then to find all this.”
“He was gracious about it,” I said. “I just feel bad for him and everyone like him.”
“Glad you met someone with manners today.” Lilian’s face took on a disgruntled expression, and I bit back a laugh, even though I hadn’t heard the story of what had annoyed her yet. “I met a prince today who was the most obnoxious, conceited person I have ever encountered. He was charming, I can’t deny that much, but I should inform you that you and Garritt both have competition for my affections now that he’s in town and ready to, and I quote, ‘teach every woman in Floris exactly what she’s been missing.’”
I snorted. “Sounds like a winner.”
“He was infuriatingly handsome, and it was everything I could do not to throw my lemonade in his face. Prince Fallon of Aboria,” she added, in a simpering voice. “Thinks his beauty is a gift from the gods, and he personally informed me that I ought to marry him instead of Garritt because he has looks, money, and phenomenal taste in fine wines, while Garritt only has money.”
“Just imagine what he’d say if you told him you preferred the gardener.”
Lilian’s annoyed expression softened. “I really do.”
I tried to keep my voice light. “You just don’t want to lose my superior plant-breeding skills to some fancy capitol greenhouse.”
She didn’t take the bait. She furrowed her brow a little. “I don’t want to lose you at all, Deon. I already miss you too much as it is, and you’ve only been banished as far as the grounds.”
My heart twisted. If she missed me now, I could only imagine how she was going to feel when her betrothed fired me in a week.
“Are you really marrying him so soon?” I said.
She blew out a long, tired breath. “I don’t want to marry him at all. But I can’t
get out of it now. Prince Fallon was right, the duke does have money. Thornton is our richest province. And we’re going to need that money if we have to start importing all our food. I have to do what’s best for my people.”
But what about what was best for her? Could she really be expected to sacrifice so much, just because she had been born into such responsibility?
I bit the questions back. I already knew the answers.
“I admire you, Lils,” I said. “Always will. Keep that flower I created around to remind you, will you?”
“Of course I will, I want a whole garden full of them. It would be visible for miles at night.” The corner of her mouth quirked. “But Gilded Lily? Really?”
I leaned back on my palms. “It was supposed to be called the Lilian,” I said. “Then I took one look at Duke Remington’s face and figured I should name it something else.”
She grimaced. “Sticks and stones, he’s a menace.” She leaned forward. “And he’s likely to come looking for me any minute now. I’d prefer to spend the whole day just talking with you, but we can’t waste time.”
I scrambled forward onto my knees and scraped my way across the carpet until I was close enough to her that we could speak in lowered voices.
I was close enough to reach out and brush my hand along the exposed skin peeking between her golden slippers and her flounced hem, too, but I thought better of that. If I touched her now, I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to stop.
“Tell me what you learned,” I said. “Tell me everything.”
She leaned in toward me. “I saw Mama,” she said. “I managed to slip in when her guards were changing shifts. She’s not sick at all, not really. Only it’s somehow worse than that.” She inhaled sharply, then, as if she’d had to dare herself to speak, said, “Her hair is gray.”
I bit the inside of my cheek and nodded. “Yeah, I know. That’s why I wanted you to see her.”
She tilted her head. “How did you know?”
“You don’t want the answer to that, I promise,” I said. “I’ll tell you someday. How far up has the blight gotten?”
A line appeared between her eyes. “It’s all gray.”
“All of it?” I said. “Up to her scalp?”
“Even her eyebrows,” Lilian said.
I let out a sigh of relief. Then the poison reaching her skin hadn’t killed her.
Not yet, anyway. It was too soon to rule anything out.
“She said it happened quickly.”
“You spoke with her, then.”
She nodded. “We had a long talk. She says she should have told me everything earlier, but Papa’s been too worried about her. He convinced her it was better to stay out of sight while he fixed things. Except he’s not fixing things. Mama doesn’t think he can.”
“Does she know what’s causing it?”
“It’s a witch.” She shook her head at her hands in her lap, clearly overwhelmed. “Mama’s past is so much more complicated than I thought.”
“She’s adopted,” I said. “Like me.”
Lilian glanced up. “You knew?”
“Only recently,” I said. “Hedley told me. She was raised by a witch in the forest.”
“Abused by a witch in the forest, more like.” Lilian’s voice hardened. “The creature insisted she was Mama’s mother, but she was controlling and neglectful, nothing like a mother ought to be. Mama said she’d been about ready to jump out of the tower before Papa showed up, and he saved her.”
“Hedley doesn’t think that witch is powerful enough to do this.” I nodded toward the window, in a small gesture to indicate the vastness of a kingdom. “He said she’s been hiding in the forest ever since your parents escaped her.”
“Mama disagrees,” Lilian said. “She thinks Gothel--that’s the witch’s name--has enough power and more than enough rage to accomplish something like this. Hedley’s right about one thing, though: Gothel hasn’t been seen in eighteen years now. Apparently, Papa’s sent military parties into the woods more than once to try to find her or smoke her out, but she’s always evaded them. She’s still in there, though, and the proof is the good soldiers Papa lost.”
“So what do we do?”
Lilian looked at me, her wide eyes open and hopeless. She shrugged and spread her hands, and then her shoulders dropped as if someone had tossed a great cape over them.
The weight of all this hung on her like a physical thing. I had thought I’d been worried about the kingdom, what with the festival and my responsibility for the plants at the palace.
But Lilian--she was responsible for a nation. People depended on her--human beings and fairies and immigrant races like the Munchkins from Oz. They all relied on the royal family to keep them safe, but the king and queen seemed every bit as lost as me. And if the monarchs couldn’t figure out how to stop this curse, with all their vast authority and resources, what hope did a princess have?
I didn’t have enough magic to fight the blight, nor the knowledge to hunt an evil witch. All I could do for Lilian was to stand beside her through these dark times.
And if Duke Remington had his way, I wouldn’t even be able to do that.
I held out a hand. Lilian took it and laced her fingers between mine. I squeezed, and she sighed, and we sat there together in our old schoolroom and tried, pointlessly, to think.
11th April
The next morning, before I could make my way to the festival, Hedley woke me by barging into my shed with an enormous gold trophy shaped like a bouquet of tulips under his arm. Reed skittered in behind him and held up my glowing lily in its glass jar. The petals were tightly closed, sheltering the gathering strawberry dew.
I blinked groggily, glad I’d taken to sleeping in warm clothes that covered more than the nightshirt I’d favored back when I’d lived indoors. “What are you doing?”
Hedley opened his mouth to answer, but Reed burst forth instead.
“You won!”
I sat up and stared at them. Memories from yesterday flitted through my head like petals drifting from a cherry tree, flashes of color as I remembered the displays and the princess from Enchantia and the swaying seaweed in the Atlantice dome and Minister Blackwood’s smile as she’d examined my lily.
“I know?” I said slowly. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and squinted up at them. The pre-dawn sky outside the open door glistened soft periwinkle, and a breeze floated in and ruffled my tousled hair. “I was there?”
“No.” Reed dropped heavily onto my unicorn manure bed. He winced at the stiffness of it and glanced curiously down at my blankets, then, already over it, turned back to me with excitement dancing in his eyes. “I mean, you won. You won the whole blooming thing. You left before all the other competitions yesterday. I don’t blame you, given the way the duke was looking at you,” he added. “I get the feeling he doesn’t like you much, but it’s not your fault a blight is destroying his kingdom.”
Hedley cleared his throat, and Reed leaned in toward me, the golden lily jar still clasped between his hands.
“I mean, you won,” he said. “Grand prize. Best of Show. The whole thing. The scores were added up last night, and the twelve representatives from all the kingdoms voted, and they all voted for you.”
I rubbed my eyes again, and my mind clutched at the holes in Reed’s story.
“I can’t have won,” I said. “The duke was on the grand prize judging committee. He wouldn’t have let it happen.”
Reed shook his head, grinning. “That’s the other thing. King Alder came back. He showed up at the last minute, and I guess Minister Yarrow just acted like; of course, the duke would offer to yield his seat to the king, so what could the duke do? He offered it up, King Alder accepted, and they all voted unanimously that your lily was the best thing at the whole festival. Linden thinks it was a pity vote since we’re having such a hard time with the blight, but I think Linden’s just full of sour grapes. The one last tulip he saved from his beds wasn’t enough to win him the Bulb Flowers Di
vision contest, and he’s in a bad mood about it.”
“The point is,” Hedley said, his calm voice a slow cadence against Reed’s excited yammering. “You won Best in Show, and the king has returned. We thought you’d like to know.”
I met his gaze, and it was pregnant with meaning. Suddenly, I was wide awake.
“I won,” I said. “The king is back. Stars, I need to get some clothes on.”
“We’ll leave you to it,” Hedley said.
Reed was too busy grinning like a lunatic at me to move, but finally, Hedley cleared his throat. Reed jumped, laughed, and shoved the lily at me before jumping to his feet.
“You did it, Deon,” he said. He shifted from foot to foot, too worked up to stay still. “We’re facing the worst plague in history, and you still showed every kingdom in the world who’s in charge.”
“No need to insult the rest of the world over it.” But I couldn’t help grinning. My lily had bought us more time and told the rest of the world that it wasn’t time to write us off just yet. Hope rose up in me like dandelion heads turning to the sun.
Reed beamed, and finally, Hedley turned to him. “Why don’t you go tell the kitchen staff the good news?” he said.
He didn’t need to tell him twice. Reed was gone in a flash, but not before showering me with another beatific grin.
Hedley watched him go, smiling softly and shaking his head.
“Young people,” he said.
He closed the door behind Reed. The soft morning light faded to near-darkness, and I heard rather than saw Hedley approach. He settled onto the bed as my eyes adjusted. The golden trophy shone a little in the dim illumination from my high window, the lines of the tulips and their golden vase etched with my name and the name of my flower just visible in the gloom.
“Did you have any success yesterday?” Hedley asked in a low voice.
I nodded, then realized he probably couldn’t see me well enough to know it.
“I spoke with her.”
Hedley set the trophy on the small shelf next to my makeshift bed, and I allowed myself just a moment to stare at its elegant form.