Page 38 of House of Roots and Ruin
Was that happening now?
I’d enjoyed my day with Alexander, immensely. He was smart and funny and even an afternoon spent drawing out his every feature had not made me appreciate his appearance any less.
But I was new to this.
I was new to feeling like this.
Were these stirrings due to the marvel of a new situation or the persuasiveness of Alex’s charms?
Because hewascharming; there was no doubt there. I could imagine him working his way about a ballroom, half a dozen young ladies following his every movement, stars dancing in their besotted eyes. I pictured his gaze falling upon me, choosing me.
“I think…” I stopped, my voice failing. “I think that you shouldn’t worry about that. About any of that. And I think you should call me Verity.”
Acting with an uncharacteristic boldness, I twisted my hand beneath his, so our palms pressed against one another. His thumb traced the soft skin of my wrist and my breath caught in my throat, delighted with the intimate sensation.
This doesn’t mean anything,I told myself.Anything at all.
Though it was true both our fathers were dukes, I was the last and least of my sisters. A girl like me would never end up with a boy like him.
But still. It gave me a thrill to test what a bit of harmless flirtation could feel like.
“Verity,” he agreed. He grinned, squeezing my hand. “Alex. And Verity.”
“Alex!” A voice rang out before I could respond. “Is that you?” Gerard Laurent came around a tall manicured hedge and I pulled my hand free, tucking it behind the wheelchair as though we’d been caught doing something terrible. “Oh, and Verity, excellent! It’s finally happening. You must come and see, both of you. Come, come!” He disappeared behind another set of bushes.
Alex glanced up at me, a bright smile still on his lips. “Ladies first…Verity.”
“What are they?” I asked, puzzled.
We were inside the enormous greenhouse I’d spotted last night, standing before a long worktable. The glass panes were angled at their edges, sending rainbow refractions of light across the plants within. The air was warm and wet and smelledgreen.I could practically taste the chlorophyll on my tongue, fresh and bright.
On the table were dozens of pots and spilled dirt, clumps of dried moss and vials of colorful liquid. Rows of brass instruments were laid out with ordered care. It would make an intriguing still-life composition, but Gerard’s attention rested solely on the three potted plants at the center.
They were a strange tangled mess of spiraled vines and dark purple buds, clenched as tightly as fists.
“Father’s been tinkering with these flowers for nearly a year,” Alex explained.
“And they’ve not bloomed once,” Gerard said, missing his son’s veiled reproach. “The buds just wither away, dried little husks of disappointment and failure. But here, look here,” Gerard said, fiddling with the center pot’s position.
One of the buds looked looser than the others, bigger and softer, as if it were a dreamer, stretching out in sleep, moments before rising to greet the new day. Its edges were as frilled as a confetti streamer, speckled with dazzling shades of Byzantium and claret.
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” I murmured, leaning in for a closer look.
Slowly, spectacularly, it unfurled, a lady twirling her skirts across a ballroom. The iridescent petals had a soft texture, likethe peach fuzz of a baby’s cheek, with extravagantly thick layers gathered together. When it fully opened, a bright red stamen jutted proudly from the bloom.
“Congratulations, Father,” Alex said dutifully.
“Oh,” Gerard whispered, his voice thick and reverent. “It’s more wondrous than I could have ever imagined.” He brought his right hand toward the flower and for one awful moment, I feared he was going to pluck it, but instead, he swooped his fingers in wide circles, wafting the fragrance to us.
It was a curious scent, as deep as pine resin but with an overlaying complexity that felt familiar, though I couldn’t place from where.
“So you…you created this from other flowers?” I asked, feeling adrift in a sea of unfamiliar concepts.
Gerard nodded. “This is the result of endless cross-pollination and grafting. It started with a pretty little aster I’d always been fond of and a nyxmist plant.”
I could feel Alex’s unspoken judgment radiating from him and could almost see him thinking that it had been better when the two plants were on their own, separate creations, as the gods intended.
I reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, trying to keep Gerard from sensing his son’s mood. Regardless of how Alex felt, this was a big moment for his father, something he’d worked hard on. “I’ve never heard of nyxmist before.” I wanted to reach out and stroke the velvety leaves, so dark they almost appeared black, but held myself in check.
