The Lost Garden: The Complete Series

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The Lost Garden: The Complete Series Page 3

by D. K. Holmberg


  “You had better find her quickly. The last I saw, she’d come from a meeting with Nels. She was going to her quarters, and once she is there…”

  Eris thought it strange she hadn’t seen Lira in the garden with Nels. But she needed to hurry to find her. Once Lira went into her quarters, there was no telling when she would come back out, and all were forbidden entrance. Even their mother dared not disturb Lira’s rooms without her permission.

  “Don’t worry about me, Jasi. Soon enough I will rejoin you in classes. Then you can remind me every day how far behind you I am.”

  Jasi pursed her lips. “Perhaps. And that would be a welcome change. I see Mother’s disappointment every time we bring her one of our arrangements and you aren’t there.”

  As usual, Jasi had no idea how much that would bother Eris, how close to her own thoughts the comment struck. It almost made the words harder to hear.

  “Truly, Eris, if you cannot do even this, what else is there for you?”

  “If I can’t learn the art of arranging flowers, maybe I’ll just have to serve as your handmaiden. Oh, I do so think the Sacred Mother has blessed me.”

  “If you can’t even manage something as simple as finding a flower, how do you think you’d be qualified to be my handmaiden?” She smiled politely. “If I were you, I’d hope that Father finds you a suitable match.”

  “Good thing I am not you.”

  Jasi huffed. “Maybe you will be lucky and marry some northern lord where it is too cold for flowers.”

  “And maybe you will prick yourself on one of the thorns and grow too sick to rule. Then I would only have to contend with Desia,” she suggested.

  Jasi’s mouth opened in horror at the suggestion. “You know, it has been positively pleasant learning from Lira while you waste your days in the garden. I fear what will happen when you finally manage to find your flower.”

  Eris smiled. “It is only pleasant because Desia dares not upset you, and Ferisa is too kind to speak up.”

  Jasi narrowed her eyes briefly. “And at your rate, I should not have to worry for another year or more. And then it will not matter. By that time, you will have little hope of ever catching up to us.” She smiled. “Always the little sister.”

  She turned and strode down the hall, moving with a practiced glide where her dress barely moved as she walked.

  Eris watched her, angry at herself for letting Jasi upset her, before hurrying through the palace, hoping to reach Lira before she disappeared for the evening. If even a moment too slow, she would be left to keep her flower from wilting through the night. More than once, Eris had returned to the palace too late, making a waste of her chosen flower.

  The first time it had happened, she brought a faded and wilted flower to Lira in the morning. The look of disgust on the master of flower’s face told her everything she needed to hear. The next time she’d tried to preserve the flower in water, but had not taken the same lessons as her sisters and did not manage to keep it looking quite as fresh as Lira preferred.

  With this strange and beautiful flower, she at least wanted credit for finding something unusual. Many times Lira commented on her lack of vision or lack of insight. This flower promised a better response.

  Eris found Lira in the corridor just outside her quarters.

  The hall was empty, only a small lantern glowing at each end giving light. The soft runner of carpet worked in the patterns and colors of the western province; Eris could not think of the names—she didn’t spend hours studying the politics of the realm. Such things would never be of use to her. A tall oak table stood on either side of the dark stained door. The flowers in the squat ceramic vases on each table created a pattern Eris almost recognized from the garden.

  “An interesting choice.”

  The words brought her attention back to Lira.

  Eris felt fortunate that she’d found Lira at all. Standing just outside her door, she wore a long, slender, violet-blue dress that flared along the floor, like an inverted petunia—another flower which had failed to fit Eris. The doors to Lira’s quarters were closed as usual, but the master of flowers reached for the door right before she arrived. Another moment, and Eris would have been too late.

  She wished she had at least had the opportunity to see behind the door. Maybe another moment would have helped. The last few weeks she had made a sort of game out of trying to see inside Lira’s room, but Eris still had yet to even catch a glimpse.

  “There are not many flowers quite like this. You actually worked to find this, didn’t you?” Lira asked. A note of surprise and something else—could it be she was impressed?—mixed into her voice. Her accent thickened her words more than usual today, a lilting to the way she spoke trailing each word upward. Lira brought the flower so close to her nose that the petals nearly touched.

  Eris had been uncertain how to pick the flower from the vine safely so the vine went undamaged. When the assistant gardener had finally returned with the ladder—and taking his careful time as he went, she noticed—she had brought the entire flowerbed down with her, tucking it safely along the wall until she knew what Lira would decide. She would let one of the gardeners return it to its ledge later.

  “How would you characterize its fragrance?” Lira asked.

  The question took Eris aback. Lira never said anything more than the flower was unacceptable. “I…I don’t know how I would describe it.”

  “Try.”

  Eris swallowed. Lira always made her nervous. “The flower seems bitter, though there are soft, sweet notes buried deep within the petals.” It was unlike any of the other flowers she had brought to Lira.

  Lira tipped her head. “That is a fair start. Simplistic, but not incorrect.”

  “How would you describe it?” Eris asked. Lira had never bothered to teach her anything to make her descriptions anything but simplistic.

  Hazel eyes narrowed. Lira’s thin lips pursed slightly, just enough to convey a sense of annoyed disappointment. “Hints of bay and chantral, perhaps even a touch of chamomile, though there is something smoky and complex to it as well.”

  She inhaled again, more deeply this time and then, surprisingly, touched her tongue to one of the petals. The bright yellow one, Eris noted.

  “Yet,” Lira went on, head tilted in the strange way she had that Jasi had tried and failed to mimic, “the nectar tastes nothing like its aroma.” She pulled the flower away from her face and handed it to Eris. “That is how I would describe its fragrance.”

  As Lira described it, Eris knew she had been right. Her own description had been too simplistic. Now that Lira offered hers, the different layers of the aroma became clearer. It only served to frustrate Eris more that Lira continued to refuse to teach her.

  “You think this to be your flower, Eris Taeresin?”

  Eris looked at the flower. Of all the comments she’d dreamed Lira might say when she returned with the flower, this was not one of them. Always before, she made it clear that Eris had not tried hard enough or had not considered her choice deeply enough. She had the sudden impression that this was different.

  She suddenly wondered—was this her flower? After months spent searching and failing, Eris had a hard time believing any flower could be hers. The only reason she’d brought this one to Lira was because it was unique.

  That, and she had nearly broken her neck to get it.

  What would happen when she found her flower? Her lessons would change, she knew. She would have to sit with Jasi—at least until she was married off and left the palace—and learn about arrangements, about the message the flowers could be used to send. Much better to spend time wandering in the garden.

  She considered saying no, it was not, anything to be left alone so she could continue to have afternoons free to wander the garden.

  Lira tilted her head, and her dress shifted, sliding just above the tile. Hints of color mixed into the chestnut hair pulled into a swooping spiral atop her head. Piercing hazel eyes waited for an answer.<
br />
  “You do not answer. Shall I take that as an answer?”

  She started to turn, as if to return to her quarters. Once she entered her quarters, there was no telling how long until Lira emerged into the rest of the palace. It might not be until the next morning.

  “I’m not certain,” she said.

  Lira hesitated, waiting for her to say more.

  When she still said nothing, Lira turned back toward her quarters. As her hand reached the wide, dark-stained doors, Eris tentatively touched the flower with her tongue, mimicking what she saw Lira do. She paid no mind to which colored petal she tasted.

  Suddenly her head swam. Colors shifted in front of her vision, becoming more intense. Dark spots streamed upward, as if she would nearly faint. Sounds changed, the muted sounds of the hall becoming something deeper, richer. Even the way the dress fell on her body, the way the fabric rubbed along her skin changed, becoming heavier, as if she could feel the individual weaves. She felt a deep connection, a sense of hidden strength all around her that she could touch if she only knew how.

  Then it faded and was gone.

  Eris blinked, wondering if the sensations were only imagined or were something different, something real. Perhaps the flower had medicinal qualities; some of the herbs the master healer used caused visions when taken. But what she experienced seemed different.

  “Yes,” she whispered. Even if it wasn’t, she wanted this to be her flower.

  Lira paused near the bronze handle on the door. She turned slowly, her dress flaring for a moment as she did, her eyes narrowed in an unspoken question. She waited for Eris to say more.

  “This is my flower, Lira,” Eris said with more confidence.

  Always before, there had been no real expectation that she’d found her flower. Always, her search had been half-hearted or driven simply by the need to bring something—anything—to the Mistress of Flowers or risk angering her mother for her lack of trying. Saying it today felt different.

  Lira’s face changed. She almost smiled. “Very well.”

  Eris waited for Lira to confirm that she had found her flower, knowing Jasi, Desia, and Ferisa all were told that they had indeed found what she asked of them.

  But confirmation did not come.

  “Your next assignment is to learn about your flower: what is its name, where it comes from, what does it take to grow. This information is critical now that you have claimed your flower. Find out all you can and then report back to me.”

  “I don’t understand,” she said, shaking her head. “Don’t I get to join the lessons with my sisters?”

  Did Lira not want her around the others? After months of searching, maybe the others really did have the gift while she had…nothing. Had Lira preferred she keep failing, that she stay away from her sisters? And now when she thought she had finally succeeded, Lira found a new reason to keep her away.

  “Is that what you would like, Eris Taeresin?” Lira asked, always so formal with her full name. “Would you prefer to rejoin your sisters as they sit inside each day, learning the basics of the proper care and arrangement of pleasing flowers?”

  She sensed a different question hidden within what was asked. “I would like to learn the language hidden in flowers.” Of all the things her sisters were taught, that, at least, seemed useful.

  Only then did Lira truly smile. “You think that you would like the lessons your sisters sit through? Does that suit you, truly?”

  The lilting inflection to her words left Eris with uncertainty. “But when will I get—”

  “Discovering your flower is about the journey. Like each flower is unique, each journey must be unique. No one shares the same experience. But if you nurture it well, you will end up with something lovely and very much your own. Just like your flower.”

  Eris thought about her flower, about how it seemed to grow in the shadows and the shade, unlike most in the garden that seemed to prefer bright sunlight. What did it say about her that she would claim this flower her own?

  “Now,” Lira went on, as if everything had been decided, “find me when you have learned all that you can of your flower.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  Lira tilted her head. “Will you have learned everything that you can by tomorrow?”

  Eris shrugged. “I don’t know how long it will take.” She knew where she would start. If anyone in the palace knew anything of the flower, it would be Nels. Even though he could be sour at times, the master gardener was still a wealth of information about everything in the garden. His garden really, regardless of what Lira had to say about it.

  “You will find me when you have learned all you can.” Lira watched Eris for a moment, almost as if waiting for her to challenge her again.

  Eris only nodded. “Yes, Lira.”

  Lira turned in a swirl of her dress and opened the door to her rooms, sweeping inside and quickly closing the door. Eris saw a flash of color, almost as if a garden grew within, and then the door shut in front of her, leaving her with just the memory of colors.

  Eris stood outside the door for just a moment, one hand clutching the strange flower she’d found—her flower—the other gripping her dress. Finally, she turned to return to the garden.

  She made a point of not thinking about why Lira seemed determined to keep sending her away, almost as if not interested in teaching her. Her sisters had been allowed to quickly choose their flowers. As much as they might suit them, none of them were unique and none had taken a daring climb atop the wall to find. Now they were able to learn from Lira, learning what she knew of flowers, turning arrangements into a type of language Eris did not understand because she was not allowed to participate.

  Even now, even after finding a flower Lira did not deny was unique, she still wasn’t allowed to rejoin her sisters.

  Lira’s message was clear—Eris was not welcome in her lessons.

  Chapter 4

  Outside, the sun hung just over the wall, spilling a reddish orange light onto the garden. Eris smelled the scents swirling around her but didn’t feel the same meandering sense she’d felt earlier. Now she came with a purpose. She hoped to find Nels.

  Instead, she came across the same assistant gardener who had helped her down from the ledge earlier. He looked at her with a bemused expression—likely remembering finding her with her dress rolled up to her knees, legs exposed, as she dangled off the ledge. Princesses did not behave in such a manner.

  Dressed in his poorly fitting green jacket squeezed over the top of brown pants, he wore a hat atop his head much like Nels. His face was round and soft. Not fat, like some of the boys in town, rather simply smooth and natural. His long brown hair was brushed back from his head and now knotted in the back. Streaks of black dirt smeared across his cheeks and hands. She’d not seen him before today—at least, she didn’t think she had.

  He smiled as she stopped in front of him, blocking his path. Up close, his smile was more lopsided than handsome.

  “My lady,” he said. He tipped his head, as if debating bowing or sweeping off his hat and choosing to do neither. “Will your search require another ladder?”

  The question caught her off guard, and she barked out a laugh. “I can’t say that it won’t.”

  The gardener smiled more deeply. “Should I summon Master Nels?” he asked. “He’s much more skilled with ladders. And ladies.”

  “That won’t be necessary.” She pulled the flower out of her pocket and held it out to him. To her surprise, it still hadn’t wilted even a little. The delicate appearing flower was sturdier than she would have expected. “Can you tell me the name of this flower?”

  He held out his hand and waited until she set the flower into his palm, as if afraid to touch her hand. Then, much like Lira, he pulled it toward his face, twirling the flower between his dirty fingers as he stared at the multicolored petals. Unlike Lira, he did not smell its fragrance or try to taste the leaves.

  “Ah…I wondered what it was you found on that ledge. When y
ou wouldn’t let me look in the flower bed…” He trailed off, still staring at the flower, before shaking his head.

  “Do you know what it is?”

  “It looks familiar. Something I’ve heard about before, but it wouldn’t grow here.” He looked up at her. “I’ve only been here a few months. There’s still much to learn. For something like this, you should ask Master Nels.”

  “What is it?” Eris asked.

  He flicked his gaze over to her. “Like I said, I’ve only heard of one flower that looks like this, but I don’t know with certainty. If you need a definite answer, you’ll need to speak with Master Nels. Or the mistress?”

  Eris shook her head. “She wants me to learn on my own.”

  “Then, my lady, what are you doing here?”

  “Trying to find out on my own.”

  The gardener smile widened. “By asking me?”

  “Is that not how I should learn of the flower? I should think the gardeners would be well suited to help.”

  His expression changed slightly, a quizzical look coming to his face as he watched her, as if waiting for something. When it didn’t come, he shook his head. “I have never seen one myself, but it’s said to grow within the Svanth Forest. As far as I know, none have ever grown outside the forest.”

  “What’s it called?” she asked again, holding her hand out and waiting for him to return her flower.

  Eris knew little about the Svanth Forest. It grew on the borders of the kingdom, a vast expanse of trees separating the northern edge of the kingdom from the wild lands beyond. Jacen would know more than she did. Of course, he was expected to know all about the realm he would someday rule.

  The gardener looked up at her. He had blue eyes deeper than the sky that, surprisingly, did not hesitate to meet hers and hold her with a piercing gaze. “That one’s called a teary star, my lady. But this can’t be it. They don’t grow outside the Svanth.”

  A teary star. A strange name for a flower, but the only one she had at the moment. “What can you tell me of it?”

 

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