Chapter 5

In the safe chambers tucked inside of Cotton’s gem, her mother and father lay in magical slumber on a grand bed surrounded by vibrant blooms. The flowers’ pollen kept them asleep until peace was returned to the Garden. The still blankness of their sleeping faces did not bring Rose the comfort they once had. Floating orbs of pale light cast their faces in grim relief.

It was a comfortable tomb.

“Are you sure you want to talk to Nettle?” Cotton asked.

“I’m sure,” Rose repeated for the fifth time.

Cotton sat back on his haunches, long snout scrunched with distaste. Within the safe chambers inside the gem he was able to be in his true form. Much like Nettle, he was a massive beast. Unlike Nettle, he was a soft, creamy white. Nearly as tall as her shoulder, he reminded her of a giant rabbit. Or maybe a lion pretending to be a rabbit. His long ears were pinned back against the massive fluffy ruff of his neck. He tapped one of his huge back feet impatiently against the ground.

“Princess,” Nettle greeted. He seemed to glide out of the shadows surrounding them. He did not look or sound surprised to see them.

“Nettle,” Rose replied. Nervously, she rubbed her sweaty palms against her skirt. “May I ask you something?”

“Always. Your every wish is my command.”

Cotton rolled his massive ruby eyes to the ceiling. Not for the first time, Rose wondered what had created the animosity between the siblings.

“Thank you. Um, well, can we go somewhere to sit? I don’t…” Rose gestured vaguely toward her sleeping parents.

Nettle’s gaze slid over to them then back to her. He bowed his head once. On silent paws, he led her out of the sleeping chamber.

Cotton stuck close enough to nearly trip her, as they wove through the torch lit marble corridors. She laid her hand on his shoulder, comforting both of them.

Nettle took them to the library. The chamber was so massive the walls vanished into the darkness, torches and orbs unable to reach every corner. Towering shelves were crammed with books. Whatever didn’t fit was carefully stacked on every available surface. A surprisingly comfortable sofa and matching chairs were bunched around a large fireplace. The giant opening was dark, empty and cold.

Rose took a seat on the sofa.

Cotton huffed, too large to crawl up beside her. He opted to sit by her knee. His solid warmth calmed her.

Nettle sat in front of the fireplace across from them. His edges were uncomfortably hazy, undefined against the darkness.

“I know Foxglove came to speak with you,” she started.

“Foxglove?” he asked.

Rose frowned at the question.

“Snapdragon,” Cotton provided.

“The knight-turned-traitor,” Nettle said.

“He isn’t a traitor,” Rose snapped.

Nettle’s expression did not change. He was even worse than Hydrangea when it came to his loyalty to the Garden.

Rose buried a hand in Cotton’s fur to stable herself. She took a breath.

“What did you discuss?” she asked.

“The adaptability of a knight’s wand.”

“And?”

“She wished to know if there was a way to change the Knight’s uniform.”

Rose recoiled at the wrong gender falling from Nettle’s tongue. Her fingers tightened in Cotton’s fur. If it hurt, he didn’t say.

Nettle shook his head, unaware of her discomfort, “the Knight’s uniform is ancient and sacred. There is no changing it just because of personal preference.”

“There has never been a Knight in all of the Garden’s history who wore pants?” Rose asked, waspish.

Nettle paused, thinking, “there was a Lady Hawthorne—“

“So it is possible to change the uniform,” Rose interrupted. If she didn’t cut in fast enough Nettle would launch into a history lecture. She didn’t have time for that. Though she did put a pin in the name.

Nettle’s snout closed and he nodded.

“Then why couldn’t Fox change his?”

There was a long pause before Nettle answered, “the magic required to do so can be quite tiring for me.”

“But it is possible,” Rose pressed.

“Yes,” he admitted.

“Then, what you really mean is that you didn’t want to.”

Nettle sniffed, lifting his head, “Snapdragon was already falling to the Night Blossom. I did not see the point in wasting my magic.”

Against her leg, Rose felt Cotton stiffen.

“And you did not think to tell the Princess that one of her own Knights was in danger?” Cotton demanded. There was a low rumble of a growl behind his words.

“All conversations held within these chambers are private,” Nettle said, impassive.

Cotton’s snout raised in a snarl. Rose patted his back, soothing.

“What’s done is done,” she said, hoping she at least sounded like the peacemaker princess she was supposed to be. She didn’t feel particularly peaceful at the moment. Cotton sat back, though his long tail whipped furiously against the floor. If he could catch fire with his eyes alone, Nettle was in danger of being barbecued.

“I have other things to ask,” Rose said. “It’s about the Night Blossom.”

Nettle stared at her. He did not prompt her to speak.

“I have heard that, that…” She shifted in her seat, uncomfortable. “Are the creatures from the Night Blossom former citizens of the Garden?”

“Yes.”

The abrupt confirmation floored Rose. She hadn’t expected Nettle to answer so quickly.

“Why, why didn’t you tell us?” she wheezed.

“It was never asked.”

If Rose’s jaw tightened any further her teeth were in danger of breaking. She knew she could always trust him to tell the truth, almost to the point of pain, but right now she hated him for it.

“If they are citizens of the Garden,” she grit out, “then we should have been trying to save them instead of killing them.”

Nettle was difficult to read, but right at that moment Rose knew he looked down on her, judged her for her words.

“Those creatures turned to crime and let themselves be corrupted,” he said, voice even, almost sneering, “they are not worthy of saving.”

“How can you say that? They’re your fellow citizens! Fox was one of your Knights,” Rose implored.

“They are selfish betrayers.” Nettle’s words came out in a bark of anger. His eyes were bright with a righteous fury.

“They are my people!” Her shout echoed over the shelves, ringing with irritation. She felt Cotton shrink under her touch.

Nettle ducked his head, though the claws of his front paws flexed against the floor. He did not look up as she stood from the sofa. She looked down her nose at Nettle. She wasn’t exactly the image of an imposing royal in her cropped baby tee and jean skort, but she did her best.

“I am the crown princess and protector of the Garden,” she reminded him. Her voice came out strong, unwavering. She kept her eyes locked on him as she spoke, “I have a duty to save my people and that includes those that fell to the Night Blossom.”

“Your parents sleep because of them,” Nettle hissed. He looked up at her without raising his head. There was no deference in his gaze.

“And the Night Blossom suffers because of my parents,” Rose shot back.

“They cannot wake if you do not destroy the Night Blossom.”

Rose knew that. She had heard it over and over. She had never questioned it until that moment. As much as she wanted to meet her parents, hear their voices, she could not grant their freedom on the back of someone else’s suffering.

“Then let them sleep.”

Nettle sprang to his feet. Sparks of ice sparked around his paws. A chilly wind whipped around him before he could contain his rage.

“Let them sleep until I can figure out how to save the Garden and the Night Blossom,” she explained. She softened her tone enough to add, “I must try. Grant me this, as your princess.”

For a moment Rose thought Nettle might argue, maybe even attack her. Cotton must have thought so too. He planted himself in front of her, hackles raised against his brother. Slowly, the wind died down and the ice melted back into his paws. Nettle’s expression soothed once more.

“I must remind you, the title of princess is only a temporary one.”

Beside her Cotton sucked in an angry breath. Rose turned back to look at Nettle, brows furrowed. She didn’t know what he meant but his tone chilled her.

“Are you threatening me, Nettle?” She asked, lightheaded with the thought.

Nettle merely blinked his huge blue eyes at her. He did not say another word. Nor did he stop her when she left.

To Be Continued…