A Deal with the Elf King (Married to Magic, #1)(32)

The smell is like a lightning strike on a clear day—seemingly out of nowhere. This cold, gray castle is void of life, so any signs of it spark my curiosity. I follow the aroma down a stretch of connected rooms that open up into a space I would best describe as a laboratory.

Shelves packed with jars line the walls above counters filled with colored beakers, bubbling cauldrons, and herb-drying racks. Tall tables flank me on either side, stools around them, tools scattered atop. The far wall is made of glass that steams with humidity. Greenery is blurred by the fog.

Sweat instantly dots my skin as I enter the attached conservatory. The greenhouse takes up the whole width of the castle. There’s stone below, stone above, and glass on either side facing north and south. Plants grow along trellises, arcing up to the ceiling. There are shelves of pots and aboveground planting beds.

Here I smell lavender and dandelion mixing with rose—which nearly makes me gag after the incident in the lunch nook—and the earthy aromatics of sage and rosemary. I spy elder shrubs, valerian, primrose, mint, and lemon balm. There are plants I’ve never even laid eyes on before and some I’ve only ever seen in books.

“Oh.” I startle, stopping in my tracks. The man I’ve spotted jumps to his feet. I’ve nearly scared him out of his skin. “Hello, Willow.” I smile.

“Luella.” He breathes a sigh of relief. “What’re you doing up here?”

I shrug, not ready to open up about what happened with Eldas. “I was wandering.”

“A good place to wander to; welcome to the royal greenhouse.” He pulls off his gardening gloves and puts them in the basket at his side. Pruning sheers and bushels of peppermint accompany them. He smiles brightly. “Would you like a tour?”

“Very much,” I say without hesitation. Anything to distract me.

He shows me their intricate watering system and their compost bin in the far back corner. Willow is especially proud of the organization of the gardening shed and drying rooms. But my attention remains where the plants are growing.

Alive.

I am aware of them as I walk by in a way I’ve never experienced. Their aura is like a subtle greeting, a nod that they’re aware of my presence. The sunflowers turn to face me instead of the sun as we pass. I’m as eager to meet them as they are me.

“What’s this one?” I stop at a plant with a black, bulbous base and red, waxy, heart-shaped leaves.

“Heartroot.” Willow steps beside me. As he speaks he checks the plant, looking for bugs.

“What does it do? I don’t think we have it in the Natural World.”

“Odd.” Willow hums. “I thought all plants in Midscape were also in the Natural World. Perhaps you’re just not familiar with it?”

“Perhaps,” I say. But I doubt it. I’ve spent years learning every herb known to man. If I don’t know about it, I’m confident in saying no one knows about it.

“In any case, the leaves are used in a lot of antidotes to increase potency and how quickly they’re absorbed into the blood. But the bark, that’s the really interesting bit. You can use it to slow a person’s heart to almost nothing—the bare minimum for life.”

“Also used in poisonings, I’d bet.” He nods in affirmation of my suspicion. I can see how it would be useful to slow the spread of poison.

“It’s said the bark can also be used for memories…but that’s something not explored by many.”

“Why not?”

“It’s more of a rumor than anything solid. ‘The heartroot remembers,’ is how the old adage goes. Though no one knows where that saying comes from.” Willow shrugs. “I’ve experimented, but I’ve never been able to find a way to bring out any kind of mental properties with it.”

“I see.” I reach out and lightly touch the smooth leaves of the heartroot. A vague sense of nostalgia overwhelms me.

I can feel earth, wet and damp all around me. I can almost see the outline of a woman wearing a crown of leaves. Her hands envelop me—safe. Then, darkness. I am buried. Deeper and deeper I grow as the earth shifts above me, thickening, hardening.

Memories, not my own but held somewhere beyond its ruddy base, swim in my mind.

Then, the sensation shifts. It becomes more of a tug. Two buds sprout and I quickly pull my hand away, holding it to my chest.

“I’m sorry.”

Willow stares in awe. “Don’t be sorry; this is magnificent.”

“What?”

“Usually the plant takes three hundred years to mature. What you’re waiting for are the flowers. Those are what can cure any poison. Heartroot only produces them at a certain age.”

“Oh.”

“This is magnificent.” He beams at me. Willow saw something wondrous just now. I saw yet another sign of my magic out of control.

“Does… Do other properties come out at a certain age?” I ask. “Perhaps the memory ones?”

“I doubt it. But we can test it.”

“No… I should go.” I push the phantom sensations from my mind and look at the plants sadly. If I had just been Luella the herbologist I would’ve spent hours in this place. But I’m now Luella the Human Queen who can accidentally make plants grow. Will they be good plants like the heartroot? Or nasty plants like the vines I made in the lunch nook?