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Momma had noticed I was missing now. "Georgia!" she called.

I giggled and pushed through the rose bushes, trying to find a better hiding spot. A thorn caught the sleeve of my dress. I pulled it away and pricked my thumb, drawing a dark red dot of blood. It dripped onto my soft linen dress. Momma would be mad.

"Georgia," she called again in exasperation.

I didn’t pay her any attention.

Inside, the garden was filled with blues, greens, and whites—unusual hues. I lay in the center of the garden, hiding among the sky-blue petals, smiling to myself the way only naughty toddlers can. I sucked my bleeding thumb.

That’s when I heard the first whisper. "Hello, sweetness."

Everything is pure magic to a toddler. A match to a candle wick is as surely witchcraft as talking flowers, so I said back very proudly, "Hello! I hiding."

A soft chuckle from the flowers. "Just like your mother. Beautiful child."

When my mom found me, I was still chattering away with the flowers which had insisted I call them "Gran."

Momma rolled her eyes and admonished the flowers, "Mother, I’ve been looking all over."

Then she scooped me up in her arms, and I quickly forgot the whole incident. Like I said, magic is nothing to a toddler.

But now I knew what had happened. At least, I hoped.

My grandmother had been dead long before I was born. Yet, somehow, I had spoken with her. If I could recreate that garden, perhaps I could talk to her again. The dead could see far more than I. Perhaps, she could tell me where to find Briar.

We were exiting the west end of the greenhouse when I saw several small dilapidated buildings in the distance.

"What are those?" I asked, pointing toward them.

"We built new greenhouses several years ago, but the old ones still stand. They’ll return to the earth with time."

Sure enough, I saw vines beginning to cover one side.

Maybe the plant I needed would be in the old greenhouse ruins. I’d have to return on my own. Surely, the old structures wouldn’t be so heavily warded.

I was snapped out of my scheming by Forrest’s question. "Are you looking forward to the upcoming revel?" he asked.

Caught off guard, I frowned. "Not really."

"Because it formalizes our engagement?" he asked. His voice was low, maybe even hesitant.

"That’s not it."

He cocked his head to one side. "Then what is it? Do you not like the gowns? I know our fashion is a bit more revealing than what you’re accustomed to?"

I shook my head. "I’ve never really liked balls."

"The crowds?" He guessed. "Or dancing? Perhaps you don’t know how to dance?"

I rolled my eyes. "Of course, I know how to dance. I am the eldest remaining daughter of the king. I’ve been taught and drilled on dances from every kingdom. Except yours, that is. I have no knowledge of fae movements."

He grinned and replied suggestively, "I’d be happy to show you any movement you’d like."

I ignored his obvious double entendre. "I bet you wouldn't feel so confident if the shoe were on the other foot."

"Oh, you think so?" He took me in his arms and pulled me close but not too close. It would narrowly meet propriety in the human world. The near touch of our bodies was electric, and I longed to pull him closer.

He led me around the moss strewn floor, and we were bathed in moonlight. "How am I doing?" he asked in a low whisper just above my ear.