Page 118 of Between Fear and Favor

That got her attention.

“Crusty!” she shouted. “Salacious? What ever do you mean?” Elora shut the journal before tossing it on the pile. All it contained were inane ramblings of a woman gone mad over visions of her dead family.

“You’ve read all manner of your mother’s lewd romantic novels, so don’t pretend you don’t understand unchaste euphemisms.” She tucked her hair behind her ears, and delight filled me at beholding their reddened state. “Your grandmother was a randy old woman, wanting to explore her secret garden and make her petals unfurl.”

“Cyran! What in the gods’ names are you talking about?” Elora stood, her cheeks going an irresistible pink hue.

I snagged the journal she’d just read through, flipping to one of the many pages her grandmother had mentioned something I would have much rather not thought about.

“As far as I know, there is no secret rose garden here, and yet...” I cleared my throat, before reading, “‘I tended my rose garden well into the night, and everything is sore. Kennon doesn’t know my secret, but I have to find release somewhere.’” I grimaced at her. “Listen, if I was losing my mind, I know I’d?—”

“Shut up, Cy!” Elora said, grabbing the book out of my hands, before racing from Lady Highclere’s study altogether.

“Elora!” I called after her.

“Mr. Carson!” Elora was shouting by the time she got to the top of the grand staircase. I ran my fingers through my hair, hoping I didn’t appear disheveled. I’d only kissed her, and Thyra had been nearby the entire time, but still. Elora was angry, bright red, and stomping down the stairs like a wild, brutish animal. I couldn’t blame anyone if they thought it was my fault.

“Yes, Your Highness?” Mr. Carson hurried down the hall from the kitchens. Eyes wide, he appeared apoplectic as he took us in on the stairs. “Are you all right?”

“Did my grandmother have a rose garden? One she might have been secretive about?”

Mr. Carson’s ears went pink, and he started fiddling with his waistcoat.

“Oh gods. Perhaps he was the one tending her garden,” I hissed in her ear from the step behind her, and she swatted me away.

“Don’t make me add regicide to my to-do list,” she gritted out.

“How do you know about it?” Mr. Carson asked, clearing his throat. He looked at the ground, and his eyes had gone glassy.

“She wrote about it,” Elora said, holding her grandmother’s journal up.

“You read those?” he asked, hanging his head low. “So, you can see how bad it was before she—” He swallowed, wiping a tear from his eye. “Before she left us.”

“She’s not dead,” I blurted, and Elora reached back, grabbing my wrist and squeezing.

“What he means to say is her memory lives on, Mr. Carson,” Elora said, soft and gentle. “Now, can you take us to her garden?”

Mr. Carson took his position as caretaker of the Ravemont estate very seriously, so I wondered why he hesitated to say yes. Had it fallen into disrepair and he was afraid to show us? Or was it something more insidious? I supposed we’d find out, because within a half hour, racing against the approaching night, we rode on horseback to our destination.

The rose garden wasn’t as secret as much as it was hidden away. Toward the southwest, into the woods and away from the path, Mr. Carson brought us to a stone wall.

“Does the door need key?” Thyra asked, stepping forward to brush at the vines covering the old wooden entrance.

“There was once a key, but I don’t know what happened to it.”

Elora slid down from her horse, gathering her skirts as she traipsed through the brush. “Why did she keep it a secret?” Elora asked, tossing the question over her shoulder, not bothering to watch his reaction.

But I did.

Mr. Carson told her that he didn’t know, but the harsh swallow and twitch of muscle at his temple told me there was more to it.

“Why did you keep her secret?” I asked, quiet enough that Thyra and Elora couldn’t hear me over the racket they made with the decaying door.

“Lord Kennon didn’t approve. She always came back from tending the garden a bit...different,” he said.

“She was a seer,” I said, and Mr. Carson only tilted his head to the side.

“I know.”

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