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Relief floods through me as I gather my things, trying not to appear too eager to escape. Placing a hand on the small of my back, Sterling guides me to the exit. As always, the casual gesture spreads warmth across my skin.

“What is our oh so important appointment?” I whisper as the chamber doors close behind us.

Leesa falls into step with us as we descend the staircase. “Flowers.”

Sterling’s low laughter echoes. “Flowers?”

“Yes. Flowers.” Leesa grins. “The palace gardens are in full winter bloom, and if we don’t select the arrangements for the wedding and coronation soon, the royal gardener might collapse from anxiety. Bastian’s there with him, to keep him calm.”

I glance at Sterling, finding his amused gaze already on me. “Well, we can’t have that on our conscience now, can we?”

“Definitely not.” Leesa nudges my shoulder. “See? And here you thought it was a waste to use all those earth elementals to resuscitate the gardens so quickly after the fire.”

I huff. “Not sure the need for wedding flowers changes my mind. Although, on second thought, if it prevents another Odessa freak out, then it was definitely worth the effort.”

As we stroll toward the gardens, I can’t help but nibble my lip as an image of red marks with no discernable pattern on a map reappears in my mind. The mystery of bizarre occurrences continues, and somewhere in Tirene, white stags have become black. But for the moment, apparently, we must focus on flowers.

I shake off the persistent sense of unease.

Honestly? Flowers sound wonderful right about now.

Past the vine- and moss-covered stone wall, the royal gardens sprawl in artful wildness, a choreographed chaos of color and scent that’s somehow both overwhelming and perfectly balanced.

Sunlight filters through the ornamental fruit trees and umberhearts, dappling the cobblestone path with shifting patterns that remind me of that stupid map.

With annoyance, I push the thought away.

For just one afternoon, I want to slip free from the weight of the kingdom on my shoulders. I want to think about something beautiful and hopeful instead of ugly and ominous.

The royal guards trail us at a respectful distance, their weapons at the ready despite the peaceful setting. Elijah Durand’s presence among them is still strange when I stop to think about it. Not that long ago, when we were both students at Flighthaven Academy, the Aclarian noble hated me and strove to make my life miserable.

How things have changed.

“What do you think of these?” Leesa stops to admire a cluster of bluish purple blooms that tumble over a trellis. Her fingers hover just above the petals, not quite touching. “They’d make gorgeous centerpieces draped over little stands. Like colorful waterfalls.”

I tilt my head, contemplating. “I’m familiar with those. They’re beautiful, but aren’t they the ones that caused half the court to sneeze uncontrollably?”

“I’ve heard that was at last year’s reception for the Southshore delegates.” Bastian chimes in with a small smirk. “The head cook still complains about all the plates that went back untouched.”

“Right. Let’s avoid flowers that might clear the room before we finish our vows.” Sterling moves beside me with that fluid grace that always reminds me of a predator, though his expression remains soft as he surveys the flora.

A royal gardener hovers nearby, practically vibrating with anticipation. Shaggy brown hair that curls around the edges, brown eyes, and a brown beard blend right in with his dirt-stained apron. He’s nearly as tall and broad as Agnar.

“What do you think about these, Henry?” I point to a cluster of elegant white blossoms with golden centers reminiscent of stars against a night sky. “They’re lovely.”

“An excellent choice, Your Highness.” Henry comes forward eagerly, brushing his work-roughened hands against his apron. “Midnight Stars. They symbolize hope and new beginnings.”

“Perfect for a coronation and wedding.” Leesa grazes her lips over her knuckles and peruses another cluster of flowers. “Though we’ll need something with more color to balance them.”

I glance at Sterling, who’s studying a crimson bloom nearby. “These would look beautiful in your hair, Sterling.” I pluck one and hold it up to his shiny dark locks.

His mouth twitches. “I was thinking for my beard.”

Leesa raises an eyebrow. “You don’t have a beard.”

Sterling swipes a thoughtful hand over his jaw. “I’m considering one for the coronation.”

I try to picture him with facial hair and find myself smiling. “I don’t know if I’d recognize you.”