Page 40 of Monster's Bride
Considering Nor, Zen, and I were there last night, it doesn’t seem like an area that’s off limits. If it was something sacred or forbidden, surely Nor would have warned me.
If we get into trouble, I’m blaming him.
Warm sunlight spills into the hallway as I push the door open, and I eagerly step into the fresh air. Last night in the garden was peaceful and serene, but this morning, the menagerie of vibrant colors surrounding us is exciting. I have the sudden urge to run through the bushes and roll around in the grass like a child, but I maintain my composure. I won’t risk getting grass stains on my dress.
“Wow,” Liz breathes, her eyes darting quickly from plant to plant.
There are red, purple, and yellow blooms all around us, and even more colors across the garden. Some flowers, like roses and hydrangeas, I recognize instantly, but there are others I’ve never seen before. White flowers with fat pink centers. Blue blooms shaped like half-moons. Orange buds that seem to shift to deep pink depending on what angle you admire them from, and a bush covered in light green flowers the size of a fingernail.
“I’ve never seen so many flowers,” Lizette says, moving further into the garden. She skirts around the bench Nor and I shared last night and crosses to the other side with me on her heels.
“Right?” I say, excited by how impressed she is. “It’s so much prettier in the daylight.”
She runs her fingers gently along several flowers, and I can see the wheels turning behind her eyes. She’s contemplating how many ways she can use these plants. I already know of a few things she can make, like potions for headaches and salves for burns, but her knowledge of healing plants is way more extensive that mine.
“I’ve only ever seen this plant in books,” she gasps, stopping next to a tall bush with spikey leaves. Pink and white flowers grow like bells in clumps around it, and when Lizette flicks one with her finger, shimmering white dust spills to the ground. I must look as clueless as I feel because she slips into an explanation. “It’s called a Fitzhugha, or Fitz Flower, for short. You can make all kinds of things with it, especially antivenoms.”
“We definitely don’t have anything like that at home.” I shake my head, thinking about the plants I grew up learning about in Hyatt.
“They normally only grow in really harsh conditions,” she says, gently poking another flower. “I doubt they’d even grow naturally here.”
I follow her as she identifies other rare plant species, oohing and aahing over things she’s only read about, and I find myself more fascinated by the minute. So far, Ulleh has done nothing but surprise me. A twinge of guilt roils in my belly as I remember the horrible things I said and thought before coming here; I’m beginning to wonder if every notion I had about this place was wrong.
So far, the only thing in Ulleh that lives up to any of the horrifying expectations I had is Zen, and as long as I stay far away from him, I should be all right. The memory of Zen sparks another question, and I look toward the far end of the garden where he’d come from last night.
“Have you heard of an Orris plant?” I ask, drawing Liz’s attention from a beautiful rose bush.
She looks at me, lips pursed as she thinks, before shaking her head. “I don’t think so. Orris?”
“I’m pretty sure that’s what he called it.” How I recall what Zen said, I’m not sure, but everything about his sinister voice clings to my mind like sticky sap. “I hadn’t heard of it either, so I was just curious.”
She glances at the plants, her eyes skating over the sea of flowers. “Which one did Nor say it was?”
For a split second, I consider correcting her, but decide it’s not worth retelling the whole story. Besides, the less I think about Zen’s menacing aura and how uncomfortable it felt to be near him, the better. Hopefully, Lizette never has to experience it.
“He didn’t say exactly,” I explain as I move toward the far end of the garden. “Only that it was somewhere over here.”
Lizette joins me and we scour the various plants. She does her best to narrow down the options until there are two bushes she’s unfamiliar with. One has round orange blooms with white polka dots, more like fruit than flowers, and the other is covered in thousands of pink berries.
“I’ve never seen either of these,” she says, her eyes lingering on the orange and white bush. “That one definitely looks interesting.”
“Maybe they’ll have some books on plants in their library?” I suggest.
“I hope so,” she says. “Even more reason to find it.”
I shuffle my feet as I stare around the garden, my thoughts careening out of control. So much of our lives in Hyatt revolved around plants, herbs, and potions, that it’s hard not to think of home. If we had access to foreign plants like these, could we have saved my mother? Could we have saved any of the villagers or nobles who died from uncurable illnesses?
The thought that life-saving plants might have existed only a short distance away is hard to swallow.
“Take some flowers,” I say, turning to Lizette.
She looks around in shock, making sure we’re completely alone, before meeting my gaze again. “Are you sure? What if we get in trouble?”
I laugh and wave a dismissive hand to calm both our nerves. There’s a chance we’ll get reprimanded, but if they wanted rules to be followed, they should have given them to me up front. Besides, they’re only flowers. It’s not like we’re uprooting the whole plant.
“We won’t,” I promise. One of the perks of being a royal is getting what you want. I’m sure it’ll be fine. “Just take a few blooms and make some potions that you know we could need: salves, calming droughts, a fever-reducing potion, whatever you have the supplies for. I don’t know what kind of medicine they have here, and it might not work on us anyway. I’d rather be safe than sorry.”
After a moment of indecision, Lizette starts plucking a few flowers from each bush and filling her dress pockets. She even takes a few of the unfamiliar plants, popping them out of sight, and she grins when she’s happy with her haul.