“That would be wise.”
Veya looked back toward the nursery.
“I didn’t think he could feel anything.”
Dax’s expression tightened.
“Leena was the only person who could reach him without asking him to become someone else. She believed there was still humanity inside him when the rest of us had stopped looking for it.”
“And the baby?”
“He is Leena’s son.”
The answer seemed sufficient.
Dax led Veya toward the enclosed garden within the inner grounds. He opened the wrought-iron gate and waited while she stepped through.
Autumn had begun moving across the garden, turning the ivy copper and drawing mist between the hedges. Tangled roses and moonflowers climbed around iron arches, while lanterns hung from branches and glowed faintly above winding stone paths. Benches sat partly hidden among hydrangeas and herbs.
The garden was not perfectly ordered, but it was intensely alive.
Veya stopped.
“What is this place?”
“Leena’s garden. She planted it and called it her sanctuary.”
Veya moved slowly along the damp path.
“She made all of this?”
“She did.”
Dax led her to a moss-covered bench and wiped the damp surface with his sleeve before sitting at one end. Veya took the other, leaving space between them.
For a while, they listened to the wind passing through the lavender.
“What was she like?” Veya asked.
Dax looked toward the dark canopy.
“She was kind, funny, and far fiercer than anyone expected. She rarely raised her voice, but everyone listened when she spoke.”
“Sule loved her.”
“With everything he had.”
Veya lowered her gaze.
“And Rhen?”
Dax considered the question before answering.
“Leena was the only person who believed Rhen still possessed humanity. She never lied to comfort him, never pretended he was harmless, and never asked him to soften. She simply saw him clearly.”
“He loved her.”
It was not phrased as a question.
