Page 54 of House of Roots and Ruin
Instead, they spotted a monster crawling headfirst down the trunk. Its neck snapped backward at an impossible angle as it studied the garden’s inhabitants. An extra-wide mouth was drawn back into a sneer and hooked fangs curled from its upper and lower jaws.
“Why would anyone make something like that?” I asked, trying to cover my gasp.
“When the Menagerie Wall was first built, Bloem was seen as a small region of very little consequence. The People of the Petals were a bit of a joke—espousing love and beauty in a time when there was so much strife in the land. The Menagerie was built to show that art could have importance, that beauty could be powerful.” He pushed himself past the willow. “Up here is one of my favorites.”
“What is it?” I asked as the lumbering giant came into view.
It wasn’t quite a bear, it wasn’t exactly a frog, but it wasenormous enough to hide the rest of the garden from immediate view. Bulging eyes bugged out of a square muzzle. Its wide, stocky legs ended on webbed feet.
“I named him Brutus,” Alex said with a smile. “When I was a boy, I’d bring out stacks of stories and read aloud to him. Mother would send tea.”
I couldn’t help but smile, picturing him propped between the monster’s forelegs, clinking his cup against the beast’s strange toes. “He certainly seems a better companion than that first thing we saw. Hello, Brutus,” I called up to the statue. His quartz eyes seemed to wink back at me.
“You should have brought your sketchbook.”
“Indeed. Where should we set up?” I had the wicker basket looped over one arm. Raphael had laden it heavy with sandwiches of thickly sliced ham and salted butter, a sealed carafe of pink lemonade, and all the cups, plates, and flatware we could possibly need.
“Keep going,” Alex said, pointing to the walkway. “Behold, the Garden of Giants.”
Once we were around Brutus, I could see how big the area was. In the middle of the garden was a verdigris-choked pond. The boardwalk crossed over the dark green waters, dotted with benches to sit and stare at the creatures peeking out from under trees and behind bushes. There were a mishmash of beasts both fantastic and horrible.
“Will this do?” Alex asked, pausing next to one of the benches. A stony, misshapen head poked out from the waves, insect-like save for the very human-looking fingers grasping the lip of theboardwalk.
I hid my shudder and nodded, setting to work on unpacking the basket.
“What a beautiful afternoon,” Alex murmured appreciatively, tipping his face to the sun as a pair of black swans swam by, eyeing us with haughty disdain.
I scanned the garden, spotting a dragon onshore so covered in moss and lichens, it nearly blended into the landscape. A curved vine broke through a beast’s eye socket, creating a verdant iris. “It’s strangely perfect,” I admitted. “I’d love to sketch it all.”
He smiled, clearly pleased with his selection, before sinking his teeth into his sandwich.
“Maybe I could run back to the house after lunch,” I went on, musing. “The portrait is going well. We could afford to take an afternoon off.”
Alex shook his head. “Your afternoon has already been claimed. Mother mentioned a note was delivered this morning. Your dress is ready for a fitting.” He leaned back in his chair, studying me with pupils dark and wide. “I look forward to seeing it on you.”
A delicious flush crept over me, tingling the hollow of my throat and spreading up my neck where it bloomed across my cheeks, hot and thrilling. I’d never been looked at like that before and it was exhilarating. “The dress? Oh, it’s far too formal for everyday wear.”
“Wear it to the party.” He popped a sugar-dusted blackberry into his mouth.
“Party?”
“Surely you’ve heard Mother going on and on about it. Next week.”
I frowned. “She mentioned a small dinner…”
He grinned. “Nothing is ever small with Dauphine Laurent. At least twenty families have been invited.”
Surprise washed over me. “So many.”
“She’s keen on introducing you to all her friends and take credit for discovering your talents.” He pressed his lips together, carefully weighing out his next words. “I was rather hoping itcould be a chance to show you off as well. To showusoff.”
“Us?” I echoed, delighted by this turn in the conversation.
We spent our sessions together talking through a wide variety of topics—everything from art and his beloved books, to funny stories of distant relations and all the changes he wanted to make for Bloem in the future. Alexander had an easy, charming wit, but while I knew he enjoyed my company—and his parents both seemed quick to pair us together—he’d never exactly spelled out his intentions.
And becausehedidn’t say anything, I feltIcouldn’t say anything. So we each said nothing but talked about everything, learning the way the other thought, their cadences and rhythms. We made little jokes, sure to dissolve us into giggles.
It was a far cry from how I’d watched Camille’s courtship with William play out, sneaking peeks of them as they sat on opposing chairs in the Gold Room, murmuring from behind silver-lined teacups about the weather or prices at the fish market.
