Chapter 13
I watchas Eldas departs and then I ease away from the perforations in the wall. My calves have cramped from standing on my toes and I shift my weight from foot to foot. It serves to work out some of the nervous energy in me.
Part of me wishes I hadn’t been privy to that conversation. I don’t know what to think of Eldas now. I find a corner of my heart is already aching to be sympathetic toward him. That is tempered swiftly by the other part of my heart that bleeds for Capton and everyone I miss more by the hour—bleeds from his cruelty.
He was right. Midscape is brutal and it is a world I wish I could have none of.
Your duty, I remind myself on instinct. Whenever times were tough, I would focus on my duty to the people of Capton as their healer. But now…that duty is gone and without it I am little more than Eldas’s puppet wandering the halls of the castle.
I don’t want my purpose to be fortifying his rule with my mere existence. Everything in me yearns to do more. But what can be done? My place here feels shallow and empty.
Slowly, I trudge up the stairs. I don’t know where I’m going, but I follow along the hallway the top step leads me to. I wander from room to room until the scent of peat and earth tickles my nose, stealing me from my thoughts.
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.