Page 74 of A Tribute of Fire

The color of the butterfly made me think of Jason and his blue tunic.

Before I had a chance to ponder where that thought had come from and why, Io was talking. “Let me introduce you to everyone.”

She told me the names as we walked—anemone, carnation, pansy, hyacinth, peony, daffodil, violet, delphinium, crocus, lily, larkspur. The names were magical and beautiful and Io spoke about them almost like they were people, as if she knew and cared about each one. She watched indulgently as I stopped to smell and touch everything. I couldn’t get over the variety and brilliance of it all. Purples and pinks and blues and yellows and whites and reds and oranges in so many different shades.

“This is a sunflower,” she said. “The blossoms actually turn and follow the sun.”

There was a feeling of familiarity because it was just like the one I’d seen in my dream on the ship. My heart pounded in my chest as I reached out to touch this flower as well.

Was this some kind of sign?

“You have to come over here and see this one. It’s called an iris and it’s special. This is the goddess’s favorite flower.”

It was a bluish purple and shaped differently than the other flowers I’d already seen. “Why is this her favorite?”

“I’m not actually sure,” she said. “There are so many medicinal usages for it. It’s always the incense they use in the temple.”

“They do?” I sniffed but there didn’t seem to be much of a scent. The blossom had three opened petals with a yellow heart in the center and I had expected it to smell more strongly, like the violets had.

“The fragrance comes from the roots instead of the petals. It’s one of the only flowers we do that with.” There was a clay pot on a bench and she ran over to retrieve it, bringing it back to me. “Here, smell.”

The recognition was instant and immediate. The back of my neck prickled. It was exactly the same scent I’d smelled in the dream with the sunflowers. The one coming from the goddess’s robes.

I detected a mixture of notes—floral, sweet, a bit like fennel, but also earthy, woody, with a slight hint of mineral.

As if it featured everything that encapsulated the goddess.

“What do you think?” Io asked.

It felt like everything was whirling around me, and there were answers to my questions but when I stuck my hand out, trying to catch even one in an attempt to make sense of my situation, they stayed frustratingly beyond my grasp.

When I didn’t answer, she filled in the silence. “We dry the roots and then we grind them up. Daphne says that the longer you let the roots dry, the better. She has some that have been drying for the last five years. We add them to resin or oil, depending on whether we’re going to use them for the scent or for medicine.”

She finally took a breath, glancing up at the sky. “This is one of my favorite gardens to work in.”

“‘Gardens’? As in plural?” It was hard to imagine that there could be more beyond what I was seeing.

“Yes, we have orchards and vegetable gardens and herb gardens. We tend to all the plants here. It’s our responsibility to care for them, nurture them. Daphne is the best at it. I’ve even traveled with her to work on burned olive trees.”

So many questions, such as who had burned the trees, but I settled on, “Why would you waste time trying to save something that is destined to die?”

Again, she gave me that smile, as if she were indulging me. “Olive trees are nearly impossible to kill. If they are burned, they will still bear fruit the next year. You can freeze them and they persevere. Even if you cut them down, a new tree will grow from the roots. It’s why it’s the symbol of Ilion—even when we are burned, frozen, cut down, we grow back.”

I clamped my teeth together so that I wouldn’t respond. Because Locris was imprisoned thanks to Ilion’s ability to quickly return to full power.

It was becoming clear that Io didn’t like silence as she added, “We still have a bit of time and I thought you might like to help me.”

“Do what?” I asked.

“There are some bulbs I need to plant. They come from a kingdom far north of Thrace and supposedly they won’t bloom until spring next year.”

“I don’t know how.”

“It’s easy. I’ll show you,” she said. “There’s a reason that gardening is my favorite thing. Putting your hands in newly dug earth? Coaxing life to grow from nothing but soil, water, and sun? There’s something so healing about that. It can mend hearts and souls. It helps you to realize that even a desolate land can be healed and made green again.”

The restoration of a desolate land was the deepest desire of my heart, but I tried not to react to her statement as she handed me a small spade and a pot full of water. She did as she promised and showed me exactly how to make a hole and where to put the bulbs, how to cover them up with dirt and water them.

She was right. Very simple. I felt a bit foolish. Io moved a few feet away and began digging.

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