Amarielle Everglimmer's Arc

Chapter 5 of 7

The prince's hands were deep in the soil when a second light came over the wall. It was green and sharp, not warm like Amarielle's glow. An ivy fairy darted to the prince's shoulder. Amarielle knew why the elders had sent it. It had come to frighten him off the tree before he finished. "Mortal," the ivy fairy hissed. "You dig your own ruin. This fairy broke our law. Help her and the elders will curse this ground. Your castle will rot. Walk away while you can." The prince's hands went still. He looked at the half-dug hole, then at Amarielle. Fear moved across his face. He was mortal, and the ivy fairy spoke of curses he could not fight. Amarielle's wings drooped. One true word of doubt, and he would stand and leave the tree in the dirt. Then a figure stepped from the dark hedge. It was Hettie Greenbriar, the scowling herbalist who sold salves in the market. Amarielle had not called her. Hettie carried her basket of remedies, her boots caked with mud, dried flowers braided in her hair. She was Amarielle's friend, though she rarely said a kind word to anyone. "Liar," Hettie said to the ivy fairy. She did not raise her voice. "The old rite holds. No curse falls on a planted tree. The elders hate that it's true." The ivy fairy spun toward her. "You have no say, herbalist." "I know every law that touches growing things." Hettie set her basket down. "This one is real. Plant it, boy." She said nothing more. She did not explain how she knew. She simply looked at the prince and waited. The prince searched Amarielle's face. She nodded, barely breathing. He drew a slender sapling from the sack beside the hole. Its buds shimmered with faint pink light. He set the roots in the soil and pushed the earth around them with both hands. The ivy fairy shrieked and shot back over the wall, its green light swallowed by the night. The warning had failed. The prince had planted the tree with his own hands. The sapling pulsed once. Petals unfolded along its thin branches, glowing soft and pink. A set of glittering chimes hung from the castle eaves caught a breeze and rang. Amarielle landed on the prince's dirt-streaked knuckle. He had not run. He had chosen her. "Thank you," she whispered to Hettie. Hettie picked up her basket. "Don't thank me yet." She nodded at the glowing tree. "One bloom cycle isn't done in a night. It has to hold until the moon falls. The elders are already on the road." She turned and walked back into the dark. Amarielle looked up. The moon stood high and white above the castle. The tree was in the ground, but its first bloom had only just begun.