Delia Prance's Arc

Chapter 14 of 59

The next morning Delia carried her ledger to the field. The wedding was two days off. The king's demand still sat cold in her chest. She had to show the court every plant, poison and all. If the nobles saw wolfsbane and nightshade named in her hand, they would call her field a danger, not a gift. She set the book on a bench and stared at the open pages. Nick found her there. He wore his dark palace coat, but his sleeves were rolled. "You've read that page ten times," he said. He did not soften it. "Tell me the problem." "The poisons," Delia said. "If I show them the ledger, they see only the danger. If I hide the poisons, I lie to the king. Either way I lose." Nick sat beside her. He looked at the field, at the rows she had planted by touch. "Then don't hide them," he said. "Charge for them." She turned to him. "I don't take coin. You know that." "Not for healing." He tapped the ledger. "These plants aren't for healing. Wolfsbane kills wolves that take a farmer's sheep. Nightshade drives off rats from the grain. Sell them to the crown as tools. Then the poisons aren't a danger in your field. They're a service the field provides." Delia sat still. Charging for the poisons went against everything she held. But it was not the sick she would charge. It was the kingdom, for the very plants that frightened them. A price would turn each poison from a threat into a purpose the nobles could count. "So I keep them," she said slowly. "Legally. Openly. Because they earn their place." "Because they earn their place," Nick said. She pulled her flower-embroidered satchel onto her lap and dug for her pen. Together they went through the ledger. Beside each poison, Delia wrote a use and a price. Wolfsbane, for wolves at the sheepfold. Nightshade, for rats in the stores. Nick named the villages that would pay. He knew them all. He knew the people by name. When the last line was dry, Delia closed the book. "Now the king can show it," she said. "Every plant proves the field serves the kingdom. Even the ones that kill." Nick looked at her the way he had three years back, on the swing by the river. "You made it worth defending," he said. "Again." Delia set the ledger down. She leaned in and kissed him, slow and sweet, her hand still stained green from the plants. He held her there in the open field, under the sky she had planted for the sick. When she drew back, she was smiling. The doubt was gone. She had a book the whole court could read without fear. But now the crown would owe her coin for her poisons, and the steward who managed crown lands would want to see the new arrangement in writing before the wedding.