Page 101 of Bane Bloom

Thomas did as asked, and he went outside to make sure the grounds were clear of Mr. Carroll while I accompanied Harding back into the glasshouse. I pointed out my favorite plants to him, and he exclaimed over some of the finer specimens. The curator might have been ambitious, but he clearly had a genuine love for his vocation. I felt certain he’d see the tragedy in all these lovelies being yanked up and replaced by hothouse flowers.

After I’d shown him around, I left him to make his own examinations while I picked ripe figs. I sat down in one of the garden chairs under the tree and nibbled one, juice slicking my fingers and soft, honey-sweet meat practically melting in my mouth.

Ficus carica, black mission fig (Spain)

Digestion, general health

Love, fertility

“You must think yourself very clever.”

My fig dropped. Nyv was seated on the cobbles next to the pool, her bare toes dipping in among the dark green leaves. The Elfbloom still presented her true form, and the queen ran a tapered finger delicately around the edge of a shimmering petal.

“I don’t, actually,” I said, “but I do think I’ve done what I promised you I would.”

My fig had rolled close to her, and she picked it up and studied it. “You may believe this will bind him to you. You may find that you’re mistaken.”

“I may,” I admitted. Over the course of lunch, all his barriers had gone up again.

“There’s a way to be sure of your heart’s desire.” She dropped the fig and cupped the Elfbloom in her palm, her expression a combination of false innocence and mischief.

I was taut as a piano wire and wishing for Thomas’s return, but a laugh still escaped me. “Thank you, no.”

She gave a graceful shrug and released the bloom. “You were wrong about something, you know.” Her glowing blue-green stare caused a twisting sensation in my stomach.

“Was I?”

“I do want him.” She lifted her chin. “And for a time, he was mine.”

I swallowed.

Her placid features suddenly hardened. “So don’t imagine I’ll ever stop watching for an opportunity to reclaim him.”

Then she was gone. I heard a soft exclamation and glanced up to find that Harding had stopped a few yards away from the pool, eyes fixed on the spot where the queen had been sitting.

I took a shuddering breath and gave him an uneasy smile. “Would you like a fig, sir?”

Thomas insisted that Mr. Harding not ride alone to his inn, in case Mr. Carroll was still lurking about and didn’t yet understand that an arrangement had been reached to protect Pine Cottage. For the same reason, Thomas insisted that I go with them, and he hitched Daisy so we could take the cart.

With Harding riding just ahead of us, Thomas and I didn’t speak on the road. We also didn’t go into the village with him, as we were in no proper mood for the festivities that we could hear from the point where we turned back toward the cottage. Annie would be hurt, but I was sure she’d understand when I explained what had happened—at least some of it. I hoped that Hamish wouldn’t go with hopes of seeing me there and hearing my answer. I would have to pay him a visit before leaving for London.

“So you’re returning home,” said Thomas, in the same tone he might have said I think there’ll be rain today.

“That depends on you, really.”

He shot a glance at me. “How so, lass?”

I pursed my lips for a moment in hopes of moderating my tone. “Did you truly just say ‘how so’ to me?” I had failed at moderation, and he gave me a bewildered look. “Daisy, whoa,” I called, trying to mimic Thomas’s tone when he said it. I was thoroughly pleased with myself when she obeyed.

We were in the bluebell glade again. Thomas turned to me.

“Well?” I said expectantly.

His features had softened. “You did well with Harding,” he said.

“Thank you, I agree.”

The corners of his lips twitched, but his reply was sober. “You’ll have had enough of Pine Cottage now, I imagine.”