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I t’s a naughty thrill, creeping through moonlight into the forbidden garden. The pearl heart plant stands knee high, its heart-shaped leaves glowing with luminous white spots—and all of it directly beneath the king’s bedroom window.

I crouch near the plant, my feet itching with anticipation, ready to bolt should the window suddenly fly open.

I glance sideways at Quin, my reluctant accomplice in this illicit heist. He leans casually on his cane, half in shadow, his lips curving faintly in disapproval.

“Don’t watch me,” I whisper, nodding toward the trellis-framed window above. Roses might bloom prettily around it, but there’s nothing pretty about what’s behind it. “Watch out for me.”

He shakes his head, disbelief etched across his face.

Ignoring him, I pluck a leaf, careful to avoid the thorns dotting the long stems. A sharp, tangy scent rises into the cool night air. Another leaf follows, and then another, each one sending a giddy wave of satisfaction through me.

When I’ve gathered enough, I clutch the pearl heart tightly and dart away from the house, deeper into the gardens.

Quin follows at his usual unhurried pace, the soft click of his cane against the path growing closer. He finds me at the fountain, one hand braced on my knee as I catch my breath, the other still gripping the precious leaves.

“This is for the greater good,” I say, breathless.

He blinks drily.

“He surely won’t miss a few leaves, and his aklas will benefit greatly.”

“You sure know how to talk yourself into things.”

I grin, shifting the leaves between the pads of my fingers. “How much rule-breaking is this breaking exactly?”

Quin leans forward, matching my whisper. “Bit late to be asking that, don’t you think?”

“Can’t be too serious, surely.”

His gaze locks onto mine, holding it a beat longer than necessary. “You came under cover of darkness. You can’t believe you’re innocent?”

My pulse jumps, but I grin to cover it. “Why did you just laugh like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re imagining what trouble I’ll get into. And enjoying it .”

I eye his easy manner: his lips curling at the edges, his eyes alight with a gleam. I drop my gaze to his hand on his cane and jump slightly. “Stop drumming your fingers.”

“Afraid of me now?”

I clamp a hand around his and meet his eyes. His skin is warm beneath my glove, and for a moment, my mind sticks on that sensation. “You’re an accomplice.”

Quin’s brows rise, his voice soft with mockery. “ I most certainly will not face punishment.”

“You’re probably right.” I drag my fingers off his, letting them linger just enough to feel his subtle tension. “How about taking the blame if anyone asks?”

Quin scoffs.

Something slinks past us in the shadows and I almost shriek, barely refraining from jumping onto Quin. A sudden thought has me thrumming with colder shivers. “A water wyvern?”

“No,” Quin says calmly. He leans into the bushes, pulling up a meowing furry beast. “Generalus. The prince’s cat.”

“Prince Nicostratus?”

“Alexios. The king’s son.”

I reach out and pat the soft head. A curiosity pops to mind, and I can’t help myself. “Do you ever bring your son here? Does little Quin love to play with Generalus too?”

“Generalus is my son’s favourite thing about coming here. But he doesn’t come often; it’s safer for him to stay with his mother.”

“Are you in residence long? You must miss him,” I say softly.

Quin’s hand stills mid-pat, his gaze flickering somewhere far away. “He’s safer with his mother.”

The wistfulness in his voice tugs at me, unspoken emotions layered beneath the words. I swallow against the sudden tightness in my throat.

“You keep him safe,” I offer, unsure what else to say.

He doesn’t reply, but for a moment, his guarded expression slips, and I glimpse the weight he carries—along with the pain.

I drag Quin to the fountain, make him sit, and break a pearl heart leaf. Quin barely twitches when I drop to my knees and shimmy his boot down.

“What are you doing?” he demands.

“In case you also get punished.” I chew the juice out of the citrusy leaf and call its essence to my fingertips. I stroke a finger down the sole of his foot and settle it at the acupoint leading to his blocked nerves. “This will protect your leg from any serious harm, and help lessen acute pain.”

“You clearly desire me to take the blame.”

I slip his boot back on. “Maybe we’ll be lucky and get away with it.”

“Wishful thinking.”

“I don’t see any redcloaks around.”

“I have a feeling retribution will come when you least expect it.” He tucks a finger under my chin and lifts it. “Isn’t it also a crime for a green-sashed mage to treat someone of my status?”

I stiffen. He’s right... only, we’ve done this before... it feels like second nature...

He pinches my chin, his voice softening. “You won’t get in trouble for this .”

I blow out a breath. “You almost had me.”

“Almost?”

“We’ve been joking around, taking things lightly, but—” I meet his eye “—I remember how hard you tried to stop me coming here. You don’t mean me harm.”

His fingers slide off my chin and he looks away.

The air feels tight as I breathe it in. I clear my throat and push to my feet. “You’re close to Nicostratus. Have you seen him today? What’s he doing?”

Quin plants his cane down heavily and rises. “Probably dreaming of you.”

“Really?”

He frowns at my smugly grinning face. “He’s stuck in cavalry training from dawn to dusk, so don’t get your hopes up.”

“Hope is the last to go.” I glance towards the house, half warmly lit. “Dusk came and went ages ago—”

“No.”

“I haven’t finished yet.”

“I can read your thoughts.”

“Is it such an imposition for you to get him for me?”

“Yes.”

“Because he’s a prince, and you’re only an underling official?”

“This is where we part ways. Good night.”

“Wait, I can’t row back alone. Could you ask Nicostratus—”

“Head to the canal. I’ll send an aklo with you.”

I sigh. “You think I’ll cause problems.”

Quin stretches his arm out for me to start down the path. “I know you will.”

* * *

The morning has not gone well.

I’m on my knees in the east pavilion now, surrounded by gasping aklas as a stern-looking redcloak delivers a message from the king.

I shouldn’t have gloated.

“. . . theft from the king’s garden. You’re to report to his majesty’s liaison for discipline.”

I glance back at the safety of the aklas, only for them to watch me pulled away.

The trudge to the house is grim as I contemplate the prospect of punishment. Knowing what I know about the royal city, I probably won’t be allowed to heal myself either.

Pink-Bow’s brother died from a caning.

Would this be so harsh? For such a small transgression?

I spy Quin a stretch away from a gold-sashed aklo and whisper to him as I pass. “Will the king kill me for this?”

I catch a shadow of a frown.

The gold-sashed aklo barks at me. “Kneel.” I drop to the path, wincing at the smack. “Do you confess?”

I gulp. Trying to deny it might get me in worse trouble.

I nod.

“A second person was seen there. Who were they?”

I feel Quin’s gaze on me. Momentarily, I wish I could name him, maybe avoid too harsh a punishment by sharing it, but... This is the king’s quarters. Such behaviour from a person of Quin’s status may not be tolerated, and the infusion I gave him can’t defend against that. Nor would it prevent his demise if... I swallow a sick rush up my throat and shake my head.

The gold-sash glances at Quin, as if he suspects ... jerkily, I shuffle forward, drawing his attention back to me. “No one else was involved.”

With a furrowed brow, the gold-sash liaison slowly unravels the parchment he carries. “You will grow ten more pearl heart plants in this garden bed, by the king’s command.”

My jaw drops. “Grow them? From scratch?”

The gold-sash’s lips twitch. “Would you prefer a more traditional punishment?”

My cheeks burn and I lower my eyes.

As the liaison leaves, I call out, “Uh, do you have seeds for me to plant?”

But he doesn’t spare me a backwards glance. I flop heavily on my haunches and throw my head up in a thankful prayer to whatever deity has taken pity on me.

Quin comes to a halt beside me.

“So. The king may not be as terrible as you believe.”

“Maybe he knows who I am. Maybe he’s being generous, for Nicostratus’s sake.”

Quin stares blank faced at the only-very-slightly denuded pearl heart plant.

I grin, using Quin’s cane to pull myself up. “Where does the royal city store seeds?”

“I heard no such provision in your sentence.”

“That’s a chicken egg predicament.” I settle my hands on my hips and contemplate the garden bed. “Never mind, I have an idea.” I wink at Quin. “Just you wait and see.”

* * *

I stare at the gold-sashed liaison, perplexed.

The aklo, the same one as this morning, smiles mockingly and rereads the king’s message before he saunters off again. Indeed, the king is fastidious. And thorough. My cuttings of his pearl heart must take and grow to twice the size before he’ll be satisfied.

I shove my shirtsleeves up my arms, muttering.

“What was that?”

I jump at Quin’s voice. “Finished your meetings for the day?”

“Only to have more tomorrow.”

“I’d swap places with you. I’ve been rushing between akla check-ups and propagating this plant all day. Thank the heavens for these gloves or the thorns would’ve torn my hands to shreds—” I stop abruptly, flushing. Quin stirs, his cane shifting, but I don’t look at him. “My feet though, I tell you. I feel for the aklas.”

“Why not use the pearl heart for yourself?”

“Oh, Quin. I’m impudent, not actually fearless.”

He laughs softly. “If you don’t dare take new leaves, use the ones from yesterday.”

“How many aklas do you think are on this island? There was barely enough for them.” I wave a hand. “Never mind.”

Movement at the window above me catches my eye, and I look up in time to see an elegant robe glide past in the shadows of the king’s bedchamber. I tense, steadying myself against Quin’s shoulder as a sudden swoop hits my stomach.

A long breath tickles the skin at the top of my glove. “What are you doing?” Quin drawls.

“The king is spying on me.”

“Undoubtedly. You think he’s judging his brother’s questionable taste?”

I flick a finger at him and he bats me away.

“He’s not judging his brother,” Quin says confidently. “He’s playing with you.”

“Playing with me? Why?”

“He wants to. He can.”

“How... unexpected.” I’ve hated him for the injustices I’ve seen on the streets, but...

“Why?” Quin murmurs.

“It’s nothing.” I flash him a weak smirk. “I have a spell for hair growth that should work on plants. Let’s see how long his play lasts.”

* * *

I jerk a finger to the pearl heart bed, ignoring the very obvious problem in front of me. Still, it’s worth a shot. “They’re thrice the size of yesterday.”

The gold-sash liaison does not seem amused. “Your... method has caused weeds to multiply here and through all the beds nearby. You must remove the weeds— without magic.”

Outrageous. “Why without magic?”

“The king fears you’ll ruin his beloved garden.”

How very vexing. And possibly very accurate. That hair growth spell is still the bane of my existence. Also not meant for gardens. I suspect I haven’t stacked the spell correctly. These internal scales are challenging to master.

I gaze at the sea of weeds engulfing this bed—and all the others—and grimace.

The pink-bow akla helps me locate tools from a shed tucked into the cliffs. I haven’t seen her since infusing her with warmth at the fountain a few days ago. She seems calm, though a bit quiet.

“How are you feeling?” I ask.

“The tea you saved for me helped this morning. Thank you.”

“You only had it this morning? It begins to lose potency after a day.”

“I couldn’t take it any earlier. I just got back.”

I look over at her, surprised. “You managed to leave?”

She nods suddenly, brightly, her bow bouncing. “I was allowed out yesterday, to give my brother a burial.”

As she hands me a box of trowels and forks, another akla interrupts, asking Pink-Bow to welcome the transferring aklas at the pier. They leave, and I head back to the mammoth mission of digging out every single weed in the flower beds, while also tending to my patients.

By the end of the day, I’m reduced to laughing and cursing the king in turns.

“How energetic you are,” Quin says, finding me at the back of the house.

I pass him a fork. “It’s easy to stay energised if you have the right motivation.”

“Is that right?”

I gesture to the weeds. “Imagine the faces of all who annoy you.”

I stab gleefully into the soil.

Quin sends his fork deep into the bed, close to mine. “Therapeutic.”

“Isn’t it.” I glance over at Quin, once more perfectly dressed for meeting with royalty. I pause my shovel at a fuzzy leaf. “What does he look like?”

Quin raises a questioning brow.

“The king.”

His gaze diverts across the canal toward the scholar courtyards. “Dark hair, dark eyes. Exceptionally handsome.”

I raise my brows and dig deep through the roots of a particularly persistent weed.

“Wait.” He looks suspiciously from the weed to me and back again. “Who exactly are you imagining?”

I yank up the severed root. “Thanks for the description.”

Quin’s eyes flash. “You—”

I drop the weed in his lap and slap a soil-laced hand over his mouth. “You and I, we have an unspoken understanding.”

I snatch my hand back, laughing as he fails to bite me. He looks away sharply and dusts vigorously at the dirt that’s fallen onto his lap. “I’ll leave you.”

“So soon?”

He looks at the carpet of weeds still to be removed. “You’ve plenty of company.”

I return to my maniacal digging as he disappears.

Darkness falls; the stars come out, glittering overhead. I camp under the king’s chambers beside the pearl heart, determined not a single weed will burst from this soil before dawn. I yawn and fold my cloak into a pillow to stare out at the stars. The night is crisp and clear, and somewhere outside the royal city I know Akilah is staring up at them too.

A slinky shadow on the trellis under the gable catches my eye. An urgent scrabble and a distressed meow. I sit up and call to Generalus, but he only whines. “Stuck, are you?”

I hop through the gaps between fledgeling pearl heart plants, grab onto the trellis and give it a shake. Stable.

Another meow.

I pull myself up, foot by foot, the thorns from the roses scratching up my arms where the gloves end. Small, fleeting wounds; something to fix when I get down.

The General meows again. He’s in pain, hanging from a stuck paw. I thrust myself up the last few feet and squeeze my knees around a thick branch of rose as I release my hands to untangle him. He’s scared, lashing out with his claws, adding deeper slices to my arms. I bundle him up in my robe, tight. His leg is broken—too dangerous to let him limp down the facade under his own power.

One arm curled around Generalus, I slide my foot down the trellis to find purchase and—

The trellis splinters beneath my foot, the crack echoing in my ears. I swing back wildly, clutching the General tighter as his claws rake my arm. My other hand scrambles for purchase, finding nothing but air.

Time slows as I fall, the wind rushing past me, the stars spinning overhead. The General yowls, and I brace myself for the inevitable impact. This is it. This is how I die. Not from a wyvern or a king’s wrath, but from trying to save a cat.