I glanced at him, surprised by the hint of wonder in his tone. "They're beautiful."
"Indeed," he nodded. "My mother cultivated a small bed of them in our family garden. I used to sit beside them for hours as a child, watching their movements."
This glimpse of personal history caught me off guard. In all our time together, Fenric had never volunteered anything about himself that wasn't directly related to Bureau protocols or my prophetic status.
"You grew up with a garden?" I prompted gently, curious about this crack in his bureaucratic armor.
His expression softened fractionally. "Yes. My family estate had extensive gardens. My mother was a botanical witch of some renown." Then, as if catching himself revealing too much, he straightened and consulted his tablet. "We've now exceeded the allocated time for the Contemplative Garden by three minutes and forty-two seconds."
I bit back a groan. Just when I thought we might have a genuine moment.
What a tightwad.
We continued through the gardens, Fenric periodically checking his tablet and making notes while I tried to actuallyenjoy the surroundings. We passed through a greenhouse filled with plants that sang softly when touched, a rock garden where the stones rearranged themselves into different patterns every few minutes, and a butterfly pavilion where the insects' wings displayed moving images like tiny, fluttering television screens.
Despite Fenric's insistence on following his ridiculous schedule, I found myself relaxing. The magical ambiance of the gardens was soothing, and even Fenric's constant note-taking had faded into background noise.
Then we entered a small, secluded area enclosed by hedges that shimmered with a faint silver light. At its center stood a circular bed of flowers unlike any I'd seen before. They resembled roses but with transparent petals that caught the light like crystal, refracting it into rainbows that danced across the ground.
"What are these?" I approached, fascinated by their ethereal beauty.
"Emotion Mirrors," Fenric answered, keeping a careful distance. "A rare magical hybrid. They reflect the emotional state of anyone who touches them."
I crouched beside the flower bed, ignoring my knee screaming at me, examining the crystal-like blooms more closely. "They show emotions? How?"
"Through color and light patterns," he explained. "Each emotional state produces a unique chromatic signature. The Bureau uses similar technology in their empathic assessment devices, though in a much less poetic form."
I reached out, my fingers hovering above one particularly perfect bloom. "Is it safe to touch them?"
Fenric hesitated. "They're not physically dangerous, but they can be revealing. Many find the experience uncomfortably intimate."
"Now I'm definitely touching one," I decided, my curiosity piqued.
Before Fenric could object, I gently stroked the crystalline petals of the nearest flower. The effect was immediate and stunning. The transparent petals filled with swirling colors. Deep purple shot through with electric blue and flashes of bright pink. The colors moved like living things, shifting and pulsing in rhythm with my heartbeat.
"Wow," I breathed, mesmerized by the display.
"Fascinating," Fenric murmured, stepping closer to observe. "The purple indicates resilience and determination. The blue represents creative potential and adaptability. And the pink..."
"What does the pink mean?" I looked at him when he trailed off.
"Joy," he answered quietly. "Despite everything you've endured, there's still joy at your core."
Our eyes met over the glowing flower, and for a moment, Fenric looked at me not as a prophetic vessel to be managed, but as a person, complex, resilient, and perhaps worthy of genuine respect.
The moment was broken when he cleared his throat and stepped back. "The emotional reflection is consistent with your psychometric profile, though the joy indicator is higher than predicted."
I rolled my eyes. "Heaven forbid I be happier than your spreadsheets predicted."
"It's actually a positive development," he made another note on his tablet. "Emotional resilience correlates with increased prophetic stability."
I stood up, stumbling slightly as I winced at my knee, brushing dirt from my knees. "So you're saying being happy makes me less likely to accidentally turn people into ferrets or make them disappear?"
"In essence, yes," he nodded seriously.
"Then maybe you should be less concerned with seven-minute emotional increments and more focused on, I don't know, letting me actually enjoy things?" I suggested, unable to keep the sarcasm from my voice.
To my surprise, Fenric paused, his fingers hovering over his tablet. "You may have a valid point."
