A Ruin of Roses (Deliciously Dark Fairytales #1)(33)

“No. The moon doesn’t affect them.”

I pulled my lips to the side, thinking, before looking up at the sun and then all around, marking this spot in my mind so I could avoid it.

“It affects shifters, though.” He stepped down in my line of sight, having clearly followed me through the field.

“I know that.”

“Does it affect you?”

“How could it? My animal is—or was, I guess—suppressed like everyone else’s. It’s only now, since you, that I can feel it. Her, I think. It feels like a female presence.”

“You didn’t feel your animal at all before me? Not even a whisper?”

“No.”

“And yet you can resist my commands.”

I didn’t mention that it was not a fun time resisting him.

“No one could ever resist me,” he said.

I pushed up to standing. “Maybe you’re not as strong as you once were. Maybe that’s why you can’t break the curse, whatever it is.”

“It isn’t up to me to break the curse. I am powerless within it.”

“We’re never powerless,” I muttered, a sentiment I’d always repeated to myself when I did, indeed, feel utterly powerless. Usually hopeless, too. I pointed downward. “This plant is being crowded. I assume you know what that means?”

His eyebrows stitched together. It took him a moment to look where I was pointing. He didn’t comment, and judging from our previous interactions, I took that to mean he didn’t know what to say.

I really wanted to punch him, just in general, but instead I took a deep breath and readied the lecture. This was something he needed to know if he was going to work the everlass. Something his mother should have told him. The plant’s location suggested it had been planted this way on purpose.

“This plant is basically getting bullied, to put it simply. That creates a sort of…acidic quality that’s bad for healing. It can be poisonous, actually. Someone in my village used leaves from a crowded plant for the elixir we spoke of, and it killed her husband within a few hours. She claimed to have chosen the leaves—multiple—by accident, which means it was definitely on purpose. Given she refused to marry again and spent a lot of time after that with demons in the pub…well. She’s suspect.

“Anyway, the book I read said it was often thought that crowded plants were cultivated that way on purpose, nestled among the others in the field, hidden in plain sight. Only a person who knew what they were looking for would know the crowded plant’s true nature.”

I used my finger to outline the rows. Little dips happened all over, like the horse hadn’t walked in a straight line when the fields were plowed. Only sometimes the rows dipped enough to create a crowded plant. I counted thirteen of them, a superstitious number.

“The layout of this field is masterful.” I raised my eyebrows at him. “You?”

“The former queen.”

That was surprising. I hadn’t thought royalty actually worked. Not in any physical way.

“Well, she knew what she was doing,” I said. “Too bad she wasn’t the one who taught you. To un-crowd the plant, you simply prune those around it and give it more breathing room. It’ll spread its leaves and flourish. It won’t hold a grudge. Overall, your garden won’t suffer in production, either, since all the plants are firing on all cylinders. If you then wish to crowd the plant again so you can off your husband, prune it back a little and let the other plants creep in. Easy.”

“You learned all this from a book?” He sounded incredulous.

“From a few, actually. A book on everlass, one about myths and legends, a history of the kingdom, a book on faeries, and finally just trial and error. I definitely filled in a lot of blanks.”

He stared at me for a long moment, balanced on the balls of his feet. Braced for something, or against it, I couldn’t tell which. Whatever it was, the struggle seemed internal.

He gritted his teeth against a strong emotion. For once, he didn’t shove his drama at me, for which I was grateful.

“Our gardens aren’t up to par for a witch,” he said with disdain, but I could tell his heart wasn’t really in it.

“I hear sometimes it’s more work to be a dick than to be a nice guy,” I said softly.

“Do you know from experience?”

“No. For me it’s always been easier to be a dick. Nice people make me nervous.”

A genuine smile stretched across his face, softening his severe appearance. He’d definitely been a looker at one time, before all those scars crisscrossed his skin.

“If you can shift, why don’t you also heal?” I asked, curiosity getting the better of me as I helped him work through the field, pruning and now lightly petting the plants. Very high-maintenance, this everlass. Worth the effort.

His expression fell, quickly turning broody again. His muscles tensed. “I can only shift because of sheer determination and a tight connection with my animal. I refused to lose my grip on him, and he was able to force the shift. Our bond is strong, and together we are more powerful than the demon king. We paid the price, though. The magic sheared off our wings with that first change, leaving us ground bound and disfigured. My healing ability is mostly suppressed, too. When I sustain wounds, they last. What woman would want to be stuck with a ground-bound dragon and a scarred man…” He turned and bent, his back to me. “If you had stabbed through my heart with that pocketknife, I would’ve died. You would’ve done what no one else has been able to do these last sixteen years. You would’ve ended this eternal nightmare.”