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I stopped at the fountain and faced her. “Much like this garden was yours. I lost both of them. My brother when we were younger, and then my best friend a few years after that,” I told her, which was only partially true. I lost both of them at once. One because of my foolishness. One at my hands. “The place that was once filled with happiness and adventure had turned into a graveyard of memories. I couldn’t even think about going back there without them.” A slight tremor went through my arm as the knot of sorrow and bitterness loosened. “It was like the place became haunted.”

“I understand,” she said, looking up at me with clear eyes. “I keep looking around, thinking that the garden should look different. Assuming there’d be a visible change to represent how it now feels to me.”

I cleared my throat. “But it is the same, isn’t it?”

Poppy nodded.

“It took me a very long time to work up the nerve to go back to the cavern. I felt that way, too.” I hadn’t gone back alone. Kieran was there. I didn’t think I would’ve been able to go myself. “Like the water surely must’ve turned muddy in my absence, dirty and cold. But it wasn’t. It was still as calm, blue, and warm as it always was.”

“Did you replace the sad memories with happy ones?” Poppy asked.

I shook my head. “Haven’t gotten a chance, but I plan to.” I told her yet another lie. I doubted that was something I would achieve. And honest to gods, I didn’t think I deserved to.

“I hope you do.” She said it so earnestly. And, gods, that was a punch to the gut as I watched the breeze play with the strands of her hair, tossing them across her shoulder and chest. “I’m sorry about your brother and friend.”

Yeah, I really didn’t deserve that.

“Thank you.” I looked up at the star-riddled night sky. I knew I was a monster. But I also knew I wasn’t the only monster here. “I know it’s not like what happened here, to Rylan, but I do understand how it feels.”

“Sometimes, I think…I think it’s a blessing that I was young when Ian and I lost our parents,” she said after a moment. “My memories of them are faint, and because of that, there’s this…I don’t know, level of detachment? As wrong as this will sound, I’m lucky in a way. It makes dealing with the loss easier because it’s almost as if they’re not real. It’s not like that for Ian. He has a lot more memories than I do.”

“It’s not wrong, Princess. I think it’s just the way the mind and heart work,” I said. “You haven’t seen your brother at all since he left for the capital?”

Poppy shook her head as she stared at my hand holding hers. “He writes as often as he can. Usually, once a month, but I haven’t seen him since the morning he left.” Slowly, she curled her fingers around mine, and fuck, that surge of triumph came again. I wasn’t only holding her hand any longer. “I miss him.” She lifted her chin, her gaze finding mine. “I’m sure you miss your brother, and I hope…I hope you see him again.”

Fuck.

That was said as earnestly as her earlier words. I started to tell her that I would, but damn, it felt all kinds of wrong to tell her that.

The breeze caught another strand of her hair. I snagged the curl, the backs of my knuckles grazing the bare skin just below her throat. A tremor went through the hand I held. Her scent thickened, her body eagerly responding to that barely there touch.

Poppy dropped my hand and stepped back, turning away. “I…” She cleared her throat, and a smile started to tug at my lips. “My favorite place in the garden is the night-blooming roses. There’s a bench there. I used to come out almost every night to see them open. They were my favorite flower, but now I have a hard time even looking at the ones cut and placed in bouquets.”

“Do you want to go there now?” I asked.

“I…I don’t think so.”

“Would you like to see my favorite place?” I offered.

Poppy glanced over my shoulder. “You have a favorite place?”

“Yes.” I extended my hand once more. “Want to see?”

She hesitated for only a heartbeat, then returned her hand to mine. My heart thumped as I led her away from the Maiden fountain and down another pathway toward the southern side of the garden. Her sweet, fresh scent invaded all my senses, even crowding out the lavender blooms we neared, leaving me thinking she was anxious because of that. Her desire concerned her.

“You’re a fan of the weeping willow?” she inquired.

The old and large willow she spoke of appeared in the lantern light, its branches nearly reaching the ground.