Page 71 of A Darkness So Sweet

Maia looked at what he was staring at and caught sight of a root that had come out of the ground and tangled around her wrist. Then she heard it again. The hum that slowly focused in her mind into something that sounded like laughter. The more she stared at the root, the more she could pull it apart from all the other sounds around her.

The plants were laughing. They were giggling as the root wrapped around her wrist, gently stroking her skin like the plant was petting her.

“How are you doing that?” the troll asked.

“I’m not doing anything,” she whispered. “Can I lift my arm? Or will it hurt the plant?”

“That is a wood sorrel, and I’m sure it doesn’t appreciate you not calling it by name.” He crouched beside her, gently disentangling the roots that were trying to weave through her fingers like the sorrel was holding her hand. “Let go of her, now. You’re only going to hurt yourself.”

“Sorrel,” Maia tried out the name, watching as the roots froze the moment she did so. “That’s your name?”

“All plants have names if you listen to what they have to say.” He tsked and sank back onto his haunches. “You’ve done it now. She’s never going to let go.”

The roots had indeed tightened around her, holding onto her fingers and gripping her with clear excitement. And now that she’d thought of the emotion, she could hear it. The sorrel was babbling about something, but she couldn’t understand the words.

Furrowing her brow, Maia shook her head. “I can’t understand it.”

“You can hear it?”

“There’s something there. I could hear laughter when the roots first came out. But now... It’s like there are words, but I just can’t hear them. They’re so muffled.”

She looked up at the troll, who wasn’t looking at the plant. He was looking at her. His hand sunk into the ground beside hers, his fingers tangled with the roots just as much as her own. And there was something in his gaze that felt like she’d unlocked some part of him.

“I’ve never met anyone else who could hear them,” he murmured.

“There are plenty of trolls with green magic, I would assume.”

“There are. Lots of trolls can make plants grow, but none of them can speak to the plants. Why is it that you can?”

This didn’t feel right for him to believe. It wasn’t the entire truth. “I haven’t ever been able to hear them. Not until I came here. Back home, all I can do is make plants grow a little better. I don’t know what changed.”

His hand tightened on hers. Not painfully, just like he was trying to ease the fear that suddenly made her heart stutter in her chest. “Ah. So that’s how it is.”

With light movements, he untangled the sorrel from her wrist and then helped her stand. The troll even brushed the dirt off her bottom before standing her up on her own and grabbing onto her shoulders. “You’ll help me with the garden, lass. But if you make one mistake or crush one plant, I’m sending you home and you aren’t welcome back. Do you hear me?”

“I hear you.” Maia’s brows furrowed as he turned and started walking away from her. “But... I have questions.”

“Walk and talk.”

“Right.” She hurried to follow him down the path, making sure she stayed on the weaving pattern and didn’t step anywhere near the troll’s very precious plants. “Everyone is scared of you. Why?”

“I’m not nice.”

“But...”

He glared at her over his shoulder before deviating from the path. She could see he knew exactly where to step, like the plants themselves warned him when he got a little too close.

And she supposed maybe she could do that too. All she had to do was listen a little harder.

Picking through the garden, completely avoiding stepping on any of the very important plants, she felt a bit better about herself. The greenery let her know when she was getting too close. Their sing-song voices told her where to place her feet, and where it wouldn’t hurt them if she did so. Together, she wandered with the troll into an unkept portion of the garden. This place had no paths, no stones to step on, just a tangle of wilderness in the middle of the most untamed place she’d ever been.

“Do you know something about my magic that I don’t?” she finally asked.

“I know nothing about your magic. Magic is hard to know if it’s not yours.” The troll bent and plucked a small leaf before handing it to her. “What’s this?”

“Um.” There wasn’t anything particularly telling about the leaf. But when she rubbed it between her fingers, the soft texture gave her a small hint. Then there was the smell, like pepper. “Bee balm?”

“Monarda,” he corrected, obviously disgusted, before he then added, “But bee balm is another name for it.”

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