Soul of the Crow: An Epic Dark Fantasy (Reapers of Veltuur Book 1), стр. 66
However, who knows how long it would take for it to work. Oftentimes at large gatherings, my father spends far more time socializing than feasting, not to mention his meals are typically served from the same duck and boar as everyone else’s. I know I’m going to be killing a lot of people in the near future, but I kind of don’t want to add an entire kingdom to my death toll just yet.
Come to think of it, I don’t even know where I’d get poison.
As I shuffle through the familiar halls of my home, racking my brain for the options at my disposal, I am lured by the fresh scent of foliage. You’d think that after spending the last day or more in the woods that I would be done with nature, but the Forbidden Garden will always have a special place in my heart. And after rushing out of the bandit—I mean, Guardian encampment without gathering my belongings first, I realize I don’t have any more memory leaves.
It might be nice to see my brother and mother one more time before I…go.
Before I forget they ever even existed…
I nod at the servant walking by me, keeping my head down while they clear the hall. Once they’re gone though, I dart through the remaining hallways until I find my way to the Forbidden Garden.
“Acari!” Borgravid gapes at me, losing focus long enough for his rigid posture to ease, but not enough to leave the doors unguarded. “Where have you been? The king has been searching for you. No one knew where you’d gone.”
“I—I know. Listen, it’s a long story, but—”
“Is it true then?” he asks, voice quiet. A dark shadow creeps over his face, making him appear at least a decade older than I remember. “About the king requesting a Reaper for your sister?”
My eyebrows arch. “You know about Gem?”
His head looks heavy when he shakes it. “Not until the day you left. I met the Reaper when she arrived, and when she told me who she was here for, I tried finding you.”
“Yeah, sorry about that,” I say, wincing. “I didn’t know what you were going to do once you found me. I thought Father sent you.”
He frowns, piecing things together, but there’s a hint of a smile twitching the edges of his lips when he asks, “The handmaiden? She lied for you?”
“Yeah,” I say, breathless and guileless. My hand finds the crook of my neck again.
Borgravid eyes me, his smile growing more absolute. “Never mind the girl. What does it mean that you have returned?”
Unable to look him in the eyes, I cast my gaze down the hall and pretend to be keeping a lookout.
“What of your sister?” he asks further. “Were you able to save her?”
“Not yet,” I admit. “But that’s why I’m here.”
Bogravid reaches for my shoulder, forcing me to return my attention to him. When I do, he unclasps the talisman at his shoulder with his free hand, the one that represents his allegiance to my father. It falls to the floor with a metallic chime that echoes up the arched ceiling and down either side of the hallway.
“Whoa. Borgravid, you can’t—”
“I swore an oath to protect the people of Oakfall, and I will do whatever I am able to protect your sister. Whatever you need, my prince.”
I bury my face into my hands, lest he see the guilt behind my eyes. I can’t ask him to do this. I can’t make him an accomplice to what I have to do.
Bending my knees, I squat down to the marble to retrieve the golden emblem. When I rise, I hand it to Borgravid, but he doesn’t take it. With a roll of my eyes, I finally fasten it back into the shoulder of his armor.
“I appreciate it, I really, really do, but I don’t need anything from anyone. All I need is one last visit in the garden.”
With a bob of my head, I signal to the doors behind him, and on cue, we both look through the crystal-clear glass, to the greenery just beyond.
He sighs heavily before turning back toward me. “If that is all you need, then of course, I will oblige.”
Borgravid pounds his fist against his chest once before stepping aside.
I want to thank him for everything he’s ever done for me, to say goodbye because I know we will never see each other again, but I can’t bring myself to do either. With my head bowed low, I enter the Forbidden Garden one final time.
The serene beauty of the place instantly puts me at ease. Though I’d like to take a slow stroll along the pebble paths that have recently brought me so much comfort, it’s a luxury I can’t afford.
Hunched and keeping to the shadows, I make my way to the memory tree. I use its drooping branches to conceal myself as I gaze up along its trunk. Once I’m gone, I wonder if anyone else will visit this place and use its resources.
I tug a single leaf free from the branch and open wide. Though making a tea would help it taste better, I’m pretty sure that grinding them in my teeth will also release the oils, even if it means it’ll be a potent experience.
But before I can place the leaf onto my tongue, I spy the greenhouse through the dangling branches and my arm freezes, the leaf so close that I can practically taste it. Though the Forbidden Garden is silent, hidden away from the commotion of the preparations for the Festival of Wings outside, it’s like the aacsi are calling to me.
I can’t believe the thought