I shook my head. Watched our feet stride in sync. “You and your theories.” I laughed. The sound was so light and free, it made me never want to stop. “Go on then. Tell me.”
He peered over one shoulder, toward the Garden gate quickly vanishing from our view. “The Dragon in Dimitri’s story? The one with the riddles who guards the entrance?”
I followed his gaze. No Dragon waited there now. Would she return? “Uh-huh.”
With a signature smirk, he leaned in. “I’ll bet my mirrorglass blade, if it ever comes into my possession again, the Verity is the Dragon. Her first encounter with Dimitri was when she allowed him into the Garden. His correct answer regarding love intrigued her. That’s when she started to fall.”
He winked and left it at that. I never thought too much about his crazy idea.
Until now.
I nod to the far-from-mythical creature before me now. Not only am I starting to believe Ky’s theory is true, but I realize the Fountain in the Second’s castle courtyard was inspired by this. The Dragon statue with the rose between its teeth? Yeah, that’s the Fervor Dragon, the guardian of Epoch herself.
“At a loss for words, Queen Eliyana?”
I blink and meet her piercing gaze. I may no longer be the Verity’s vessel, but the people of the Second chose to keep me as their queen. For whatever reason the Dragon recognizes this. Has it truly been a year since we stood inside the Garden’s dead walls? Last spring seems like a lifetime ago. “I’d like to enter.” I glance past her toward the high hedges, now vibrant with the green of life.
Eyeing me down her scaly snout, the Dragon replies, “You know very well what the rules are here. Only the purest of souls may enter.” She turns in a circle, her dark skin shimmering with each move. “Even if you make your way in, the keepers of the Garden cannot see you. Cannot hear you. They exist in another Reflection entirely, and I—the Verity—will not allow you to disrupt the way of things.”
My heart sinks, but Ky’s theory is confirmed. I am speaking to a form of the Verity. Reverence and awe strike my core, and I tremble. The Dragon is a sort of vessel, a protection in and of herself. “I understand.” I lower my head. “Ask what you will.”
A long pause ensues. At last the Dragon offers her riddle. “What is stronger than a hundred men but breaks with a word?” She huffs and heaves, passion igniting her words. “What is kept in a cage but never locked?” Voice booming, she sends birds into flight. “What is small as a fist but as ferocious as a lion? What races against anger and stops with a breath?”
I let her finish, but I knew the answer at “breaks with a word.”
“The heart.” I palm my chest. Feel my pulse thump, thump, thump.
The Dragon’s nostrils flare, though she shows no other signs of annoyance. “Indeed. Only one who has known what it is like to be truly broken would hold the key to such certitude.” She moves more swiftly than a jungle cat and as slithery as a snake. “You may enter, but be careful you do not speak to those who reside here. New protections have been put into place. Unlike Dimitri, if you make contact with any inside the Garden, you’ll ne’er be allowed to leave.”
One gulp is all I need. I muster the courage to continue. Almost allow Ky into my thoughts again but refrain. I wanted to do this alone, and I will.
The path between the hedges is narrow. A small opening I have to sidestep through.
Rustle, thud, stomp.
I whirl to find the gate guarded once more. Sigh. My lips form a flat line. I swallow any and all words I know I’ll want to say. Silence is my ticket out. But only when I’m ready. For now, I turn toward the Garden. Take a step closer to my goal.
“I saw him by the roses,” Ebony shared before Ky and I left. “I know it was him.”
I search the perimeter for any flower that might resemble a rose. Morning glory, orchids, daffodils. Some sort of bud that appears to be a breed between a lilac bloom and a water lily. Pretty much every blossom but the one I seek. Moving deeper into the foliage, I find a paved path that winds into an orchard. One deep breath and I’m following it.
Still no roses.
But I didn’t doubt Ebony then and I don’t now. My closest friend and confidante, she’s become the Second’s sweetheart. Public relations? Piece of cake for my older sister. Everything my introvert can’t handle, her extrovert takes on. We’re so in sync these days, it’s difficult to contemplate we were once enemies. And even more of a task to remind myself Isabeau is no longer Isabeau. Ebony’s young mother looks our age but speaks as someone years beyond us. She keeps to herself mostly, cautious to build relations with anyone aside from her daughter. There’s a gentle calm about her as she kneads dough down in the kitchens, a position Ebony insisted her mother continue. It’s strange not to hear Reggie’s joyful humming. And yet, Isabeau’s silence is almost a song of its own. After years spent living in resounding bitterness, her lack of noise makes her seem . . . happy. Content. Maybe one day she’ll even sing a new Heartsong.
My thoughts turn to my own full heart as I think of all I’ve gained amid so much loss. I always wanted a best friend I could trust, and now I can claim a handful. Stormy and Robyn and Khloe and Eb. And Mom, of course, who is pregnant again, a baby sister on the way this time. Discovering her lifelong friend and caregiver, Regina, was also our greatest enemy came as nothing short of a shock. She took the news as if mourning a death, but didn’t stay heartbroken too long. How could anyone remain downcast around Evan? My brother is all giggles, closer to taking his first steps each day. Makai can’t keep up with his crawling, carrying my brother on his shoulders constantly just to keep him out of mischief.
“My hair will be nothing but gray by the time your sister arrives.” The only father I’ve known turned Evan upside down, only to initiate another fit of squeals. “This boy’s Shield Calling will be a disappearing act, you watch.”
I smiled. “Like father like son.” Arms folded, I leaned against the cobblestone wall of their Second Reflection cottage. So similar to the one in the Fifth, but surrounded by lush flora and fauna rather than dry desert. Dewesti Province is home now. Can’t remember the last time I longed for New York.
Birds chirp a tune reminiscent of my first mirrorsong, pulling me forward. Overgrown grass tickles my exposed ankles, and every sort of fruit imaginable decks the orchard tree branches. When we departed the Seventh twelve months ago, I caught a small glimpse of the beauty Dimitri described in his journal. The dead space exploded into life, but we only remained long enough for a taste. Now my sensory palate takes it all in. Every new color and scent.
Something moves behind me.
I freeze. Inhale through my nose. Look back but nothing’s there. A memory surfaces easily, as they all do now, my Scrib ability fully restored. My first encounter with Wren, she hid inside a trome in Lynbrook Province, her blue lock of hair catching my eye. I thought I’d imagined it, but it was her, waiting for me. Same as she was a few months ago when I found her in the castle stables.
Joshua’s horse, Champion, hadn’t been the same in his owner’s absence. Not even apples cheered him. At a loss for how to help, I still made it a point to visit the horse every day. Wren beat me to it as last autumn came to a close.
Dressed all in black, she brushed Champion’s white mane. Their contrast was stark. A colorless photo come to life.
“I can feel you standing there. You might as well stop staring and just come over.”