Page 30 of Aura Awakened
Of course, if I’m presentable, Fillian is downright dashing, looking every inch like the prince he is. For once, he bothered to shave, revealing his chiseled jawline. His full lips are even more noticeable without the stubble, and it’s all I can do not to kiss him.
He’s dressed in an Acacian military uniform: forest green trousers and a matching jacket, buttoned up over a black and gold dress shirt. The whole thing is cinched with a black belt, and embroidered in gold on said belt are various insignia that designate his rank and achievements. His dark hair is combed back, although one unruly piece keeps falling over his eye, giving the whole look a rakish vibe.
Yum.
“Remind me again what I’m supposed to do tonight,” I say, distracting myself before I throw good sense out the window and jump his bones.
I’m pretty sure I could seduce Fillian into skipping the whole event and he wouldn’t even care. He delights in bypassing any official duties he can, even when there isn’t the chance to get some action. Throw sex into the mix and he would absolutely bail on this event.
I’d hate myself if I did that, though. I have to prove to him, to myself, and most of all, to the people of Acacia that this non-royal human is an acceptable star-mate for their revered prince.
“All you have to do is be yourself,” he says.
Before I can respond to that useless piece of advice, he wraps his thick arms around me and kisses the top of my head. “You’re making this into a much bigger deal than it really is. All you have to do is enjoy yourself, eat some delicious food, and make light conversation. No one expects you to be perfect at this…except you. Now come on, our transport is here.”
Normally we travel via public transports, but for an occasion like this, the palace sent a private one to retrieve us. I follow him outside and climb in, trying to remember breath techniques from the yoga class I took years ago to keep me calm.
He clasps my hand in his, his palm rough and warm. “Did I happen to tell you why we’re arriving early?”
I shake my head. I’ve been so distracted with language and protocol that it never occurred to me to ask. “I assume we have to prepare. Like form a receiving like to greet dignitaries or something.”
He grins. “Nope. I’m taking you on a private, sunsdown tour of the royal gardens.”
“Really?” I squeeze his hand in excitement.
He’s been talking about showing me the royal gardens ever since I arrived on Acacia, but we haven’t had the chance. What with me getting settled and learning my way around the planet, plus Fillian’s job—which I sometimes tag along on—and the whole thing with Rampion, there simply hasn’t been time.
Fillian holds up large, ornate key. “Even the secret garden is ours tonight.”
I lean back with a grin and watch the landscape pass us by until the palace appears. The lights on the building twinkle in the dusk, making the golden stone walls seem to glow. Vines exploding with flowers crawl across the structure, and twin fountains at the main entrance glisten, beckoning visitors to the ornate double doors.
As our transport slows, I take a deep breath, trying to mentally prepare myself for the evening ahead. Fillian, feeling my nerves, gives a soft laugh and takes my hand again. He leads me out of the vehicle and guides me away from the doors to the palace, instead heading for the stone wall that encompasses the grounds.
We walk quite far, so that the illumination from the entrance is replaced by the soft glow of lantern lilies. Fillian finally stops and points out a small keyhole in the wall. There’s no outline of a door, nothing to suggest that there’s any entrance here. Just the small hole.
“This is the secret garden?” I ask.
Fillian grins. “One of them.”
I smile back, intrigued. “There’s more than one?”
“Oh, there are several, and I look forward to showing you each and every one. But tonight, we’re starting here.” He slips the key into the lock and gives it a turn. The door—one that truly is invisible in the wall—swings open smoothly.
As one, we step into a hidden paradise.
The first thing that strikes me is the fragrance. Sweet and spicy all at once, like an exotic perfume. Or incense you might find at a metaphysical store that changes locales every day. Something unusual and a little magical. The gardeners obviously chose the plants here with care, somehow selecting a variety with powerful scents that would still be complementary.
Lantern lilies bloom in the trees, gently lighting everything, and insects that remind me of fireflies, but longer and more orange, flutter about. I can hear the burble of another fountain, though I don’t yet see it. That’s by design; the path before me winds through hedges and thickets, drawing the viewer along to reveal each delight in due time.
In a way, it reminds me of Fillian’s own backyard garden, although on a much grander and more ornate scale. Fillian also designed his garden as a path of discovery, but it’s full of wildflowers and windchimes, relaxed and inviting. This is formal and mysterious, like something out of a book about royal landscape design. Which makes sense, of course, given that this garden is at the palace of a flora-based planet.
But it’s also otherworldly, full of plants and animals I’ve never seen before. Nothing this enchanting could ever exist on Earth. Lavender birds with majestic crests flit through the trees, flameflowers kick up sparks here and there, and cobalt bellblossoms tinkle in the wind.
Fillian tucks my arm through the crook of his elbow, and we stroll beneath the canopy. It’s quickly apparent that all sorts of treasures are hidden throughout: a plaque memorializing an event, the delicate bust of a long-dead ancestor, a decorative orb that throws off prismatic twinkles, blown-glassobjets d’artthat dance with the slightest breeze.
After ten or fifteen minutes, we come to a small clearing, the hedges at its borders elegant and symmetrical. It’s dominated by a decorative pond with a fountain in its center. The pond is flanked by benches on two sides, and bright turquoise-and-magenta fish streak by beneath the flowers growing on the water’s surface.
We sit on a bench and silently watch the fish as they splash and play. I can feel something radiating off Fillian, but I can’t put my finger on it. Not tension, exactly. Or excitement. Something more like…anticipation, maybe.