She nodded, her face grim. “He’s here, resting.” She stared down at the ground. “His fever spiked. I had to get him out of the woods. Let him rest.”
Footsteps echoed from the hallway, drawing our attention, and we both turned. An elderly woman appeared with a long gray braid coiled over one shoulder, wearing a faded blue dress. Her face was deeply lined and had dark, kind eyes. She saw me and gasped. “Who are you?”
“Genevieve,” my mother said quickly. “This is my daughter, Lilia. She—she came looking for us.”
“Oh, you poor dears.” Genevieve hurried over, her weathered face creased with concern. “You must be exhausted from your journey. Victor!” she called over her shoulder. “Victor, we have another visitor.”
A man appeared in the doorway—tall and lean, with the tan of someone who’d worked outside. His gray hair was close-cropped and his face creased with lines. His eyes were a clear blue and narrowed as he assessed me.
“Another one?” He tilted his head. “You traveled through La Forêt de Veillepierre alone?”
“I was looking for my family.” Glancing around, I asked, “Where’s Henri?”
“Resting,” Mom assured me with a soft touch on my hand. “Genevieve has been kind enough to make him tea.”
“But it hasn’t broken his fever,” Genevieve said with a glum expression.
“Can I see him?”
They led me into a small room with stone walls on the same level where Henri slept on a bed, appearing just as pale and still as he had back home. I touched his forehead. Still so hot.
After we left the room and returned to the hall, I glanced into the courtyard garden, my pulse skipping up a beat. “But the herbs. Surely you have something that could help.”
“Lilia is very talented with plants,” my mom said.
“Can I look?” I pleaded.
Genevieve and Victor exchanged a look, tension in the unspoken words.
“Of course,” she said, turning back to me with a kind expression.
“Come, I’ll show you,” Victor said.
“I’ll make us all some lunch,” Genevieve said, moving toward another doorway. “You must be hungry.”
I looked between them. They were hiding something, that much was obvious. But they appeared kind and had helped my family.
“Thank you,” I said.
The courtyard garden was spectacular. I stepped into it and inhaled the fragrant scents of roses and herbs. Raised beds of vegetables, herbs, and perennials were laid out in rows. Themidday sun poured down, making everything glow with life and color. Meadowsweet and chamomile. Saint John’s wort blooming beside valerian.
“We care for the castle,” Victor explained, “but with just the two of us and getting older, it’s not as easy to keep up with what needs to be done.”
“It’s absolutely wonderful,” I praised as I scanned the courtyard. “What is this tree?” I pointed to the one with silver petals.
Victor shook his head. “I don’t know what it’s called. I just try to keep it healthy.”
I dragged my gaze from it to peruse more. Near a far wall where the light was softer, I saw it. “Moonstar,” I whispered.
Silver-white flowers with five delicate petals, leaves edged in the faintest blue. I’d only seen it drawn in my oldest books.
“Yes,” Victor agreed with a proud nod.
“I heard it’s hard to find.” It only grew in places where magic ran deep. It was also one of the most powerful healing herbs I knew.
I kneeled beside it with trembling hands, touching the petals to make sure they were real. Yes, the texture was right, the faint sweet scent unmistakable. “This could help Henri,” I said, my voice sounding wondrous.
“Take what you need,” Victor guided.
