Page 21

21

T he herb garden felt different in this liminal hour—not quite night, not quite dawn. Apparently, I liked it because I kept finding myself walking the garden’s stone paths in my robe in the predawn hour.

Reiji didn’t look up as I approached where he knelt by a raised bed, but his movements shifted—becoming more deliberate. Up close, I could see the aristocratic planes of his face softened by the dim light, the careful precision in his shadowed eyes. A silver chain glinted at his throat, disappearing beneath his collar. The moonlight caught in his long hair, the strands pulled back loosely, highlighting silver undertones I hadn’t noticed during our formal meeting.

Wes drifted beside me, his presence crackling against my skin.

“Your aura shifts when spirits are near,” Reiji said quietly, his fingers arranging sprigs of something fragrant into neat bundles with practiced grace. He glanced up, his gaze sweeping past Wes’s location without focusing on the ghost.

“You can sense him?” I asked, my curiosity overriding caution. “But not see him?”

Reiji shook his head, a half-smile playing at the corner of his lips. The expression softened his usually composed features, making him suddenly seem younger, less calculating. “Neither. I feel disturbances where the veil thins around you. Impressions of your ghost’s presence, but not the being itself.” He tilted his head, studying me with an intensity that made me more aware of my disheveled appearance in a T-shirt and robe despite the chill. “Your ghost watches over you with great devotion. Strong attachments leave deeper impressions in the fabric between worlds.”

“He was important to me,” I said, barely above a whisper. “He still is, even though he’s gone.” I touched my pendant through the T-shirt, aware of how Reiji’s gaze followed the movement. “He’s one of the few connections I have to who I was before all this.”

“Before you became the High Queen,” Reiji said quietly, his eyes holding mine. Something in them softened when I didn’t look away. “Though I imagine you were always meant for this role, even when hidden away. The stars have patterns that go unnoticed until we learn to see them.” He returned to his herb gathering.

“You’re out here awfully late…or early, depending on your perspective,” I said. “Couldn’t sleep?”

Reiji’s hands paused, just briefly enough that someone less observant might have missed it. A smile touched his lips that reached his eyes this time. “I was hoping we might speak. Somewhere away from politics and protocols.” He gave a self-deprecating shrug. “I thought perhaps we got off on the wrong foot yesterday.”

I nodded once, appreciating his candor. “Your proposal wasn’t exactly subtle.”

He blew out a breath and sat back on his heels. “I’ve been told diplomacy isn’t my strong suit. I tend to be too direct. It puts people off.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, testing his apparent sincerity. “Is that what you’re doing out here at dawn? Being direct?”

He studied me for a long moment, then gestured to the space beside him. “I’m trying to be authentic. There’s a difference.” He returned to gathering herbs, his movements fluid and practiced. “Not everything is political maneuvering, though I understand why you’d think so.”

I considered his words for a long moment. “What are you gathering?” I asked, sitting on the edge of the raised bed near him, tucking my hands into the pockets of my robe.

“Mostly protection herbs.” He lifted a sprig to his nose, inhaling deeply before adding it to his bundle. “Rosemary for clarity, sage for purification.” He glanced at me, his expression thoughtful. “Does your ghost approve of our conversation, I wonder?”

I glanced at Wes, who shrugged, his spectral features suspicious. “He’s reserving judgment,” I shared.

Reiji rose to his feet in one fluid motion. He stepped closer, close enough that I could catch his scent beneath the herbs—something like amber and warm spices, with a hint of something celestial, like stardust. “And you?” he asked, staring down at me.

“Still deciding,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt.

He held a hand out to me. “Would you walk with me?”

Hesitating only for a moment, I placed my hand in his. As I stood, he tucked my hand into the crook of his arm, like we were setting out for a good old-fashioned stroll like a couple in a Jane Austen novel. “I believe we face a common enemy far greater than the petty rivalries between our Houses, and I believe you may be the only one who can unite us against it.”

My eyebrows rose. Finally, we were getting to the point. “And your proposal yesterday? Was that just political calculation?”

“Partially,” he admitted with surprising honesty. “The prophecies speak of a star-born consort, and I am a prince of my House. It seemed beneficial for all.” His expression shifted to something more vulnerable. “But there was more to it than duty. Something about you calls to me in ways I don’t fully understand.”

Before I could respond, a figure emerged from the shadows of the garden path, and I tensed as I recognized Ren, Reiji’s supposed guard. Her dark eyes assessed the scene with clear suspicion, her stance seemingly casual but ready for action.

“Reiji,” she said, her voice carrying an edge beneath its deference. “I’ve been looking for you.”

Reiji straightened, his open expression closing like a book snapped shut. “Thank you, Ren. I was just gathering herbs for the morning ritual.”

Something in their exchange felt off—a current of tension that belied their supposed roles. Ren’s eyes flicked to me, then back to Reiji, her gaze guarded.

“High Queen,” she acknowledged with a shallow bow that seemed purely performative.

I felt a surge of protective energy through my bonds—my consorts awakening to my absence. Javier’s presence grew stronger, moving through the house with vampiric speed.

“We have company,” Reiji said, already stepping away. “Your Prime Consort approaches.” He handed me the herb bundle he’d so carefully prepared. “For protection,” he said, his voice carrying a weight that hadn’t been there moments before. “You may need it sooner than you think.”

Ren’s eyes narrowed at the exchange, her attention fixed on the bundle in my hands with an intensity that felt almost predatory. She placed a hand on Reiji’s arm, guiding him away with subtle urgency.

As they retreated down the path, Reiji glanced back once, his expression unreadable in the growing dawn light. I looked down at the herb bundle in my hand, wrapped in a silver thread that caught the rising sunlight. The scent was complex—rosemary and sage, yes, but something else underneath. Something like starlight made tangible. Something that whispered of ancient knowledge.

Reiji slipped out of view around a bend, but Ren lingered a moment longer, her dark eyes meeting mine with an unexpected intensity. Unlike Reiji’s calculated charm, her gaze held something raw and genuine—a silent assessment that went deeper than mere appraisal. Her lips parted slightly like she wanted to say something else, something unrelated to her role as guard, before she seemed to think better of it and turned away.

Reiji called her name, and the connection snapped as she stepped out of sight.

The moment left me with a strange feeling of recognition, as though we'd met before in some forgotten life. Even as she disappeared down the path, I felt the lingering weight of her attention like a physical touch against my skin.

“Luna?” Javier’s voice carried from the kitchen doorway, sleep-rough but alert.

I stared down the path where Reiji and Ren had disappeared, an inexplicable chill washing over me.

“Everything all right?” Javier asked as he reached me, his hand settling at the small of my back, his thumb smoothing over my spine as his eyes tracked the direction of my gaze.

“I don’t know,” I whispered, the herb bundle suddenly feeling like both a gift and a warning in my hands.