Page 30 of A Fae’s Guide to Tactical Botany

“Why do you do this?” Mara asked suddenly, her eyes flickering briefly to meet his before she busied herself with the fastenings of the other arm. “Endure such discomfort merely to invade the desert.”

“It’s…my job.”

“Is it? So others of your profession dress in plastic and assault the wilderness?”

“No, but—” The other arm piece came away. “Oh, that feels good.”

Her eyes went to his again, startled, and she licked her lips, and what was that look in her eyes?

She looked away before he could decipher it, starting on the shoulder fastenings of his gambeson, and he tried to find his way back to her question.

There it was. “I’m not the only one who…wears protective gear.”

“But the others do not come this far.”

“Well, I’m extra tenacious.”

“Ah,” she said, her tone clearly saying an extra tenacious pain in my ass. Her voice was amazingly expressive. He wondered what it would sound like if—

Back on topic. “I don’t usually come out this far either. But I really need…something publishable. Something nobody’s found before.” He sighed. “I need to earn tenure, or I’m out a job. Possibly out a career—pretty sure professors who lose out on tenure get their resumes shuffled to the bottom of the pile.”

“And this tenure…” Her hands stilled. “You will find it on my hill?”

“Maybe.”

“Well,” she said stiffly, beginning on the fastenings at his side. “It is a great encouragement that you disturbed my peace for a maybe.”

Ethan’s head was cloudy again. “No. I came here because I had to.”

“Your university forced you?”

“No, it was the pictures.” Even through waves of dizziness, Ethan felt driven to make her understand. “I saw the pictures, and they called to me.”

“What pictures?” Mara’s hands stopped moving again. “There have been no visitors that could have photographed my hill, or painted it. Not in the five years I have been here.”

“Satellite pictures.” Ethan tried to sit up, sank back again.

Mara was silent for a long time. “I have heard of them,” she said at last. “Of satellites, at least. I did not know they would… You saw me?”

“Not you,” he murmured. “But I saw…the plants. The garden. How they changed and grew over just a few years and…”

“So you did see me,” Mara murmured. “Not my body, my face, but my garden is…” Her eyes held a shadow, sadness perhaps, or regret.

Why did he suddenly feel like Actaeon in truth, like he’d brazenly spied on something intimate, private? And why did it all make perfect sense to his addled brain, so much that he replied, “I’m sorry I saw you.” And hell, he’d already sinned against the goddess. He might as well sin thoroughly. He reached up and touched a lock of her hair. It was softer than he’d dreamed it could possibly be. “I saw you,” he whispered, “and I had to come.”

Mara met his gaze, something unfathomable in her expression. Unfathomable and strangely familiar. Had he seen her wear that expression in a dream? Or was it a memory?

She made a small, low noise, and he realized he was still holding her hair, sliding the silky strands through his fingers.

“Sorry,” he said, dropping his hand to his side. “That’s probably the concussion talking.” The hint of familiarity probably was, too. He took a deep breath, organizing his muddled thoughts. “Anyhow, I could tell something amazing was happening, and I figured it was my path to tenure. Which is my path to…everything else I’ve ever wanted in my life.” It sounded cheap and shallow, here in the desert. Not enough of a reason for his stubbornness, his determination to go where Mara refused to allow him.

“I see,” Mara said quietly. “Here, up.”

The sand pushed beneath Ethan just enough for Mara to remove the untied pieces of his gambeson. Before the nausea could fully set in, he was horizontal again. “Thank you,” he said when he realized what had happened.

“I suppose I understand,” Mara said as she started to untie the armored skirts at his hips. “You have ambition.”

“It’s not just that,” Ethan said, a little stung. Yes, he had ambition, but for fuck’s sake, he was a botanist at a state university. It wasn’t like he’d set his sights on Congress. “I need to know what’s happening. What makes barrel cactus flowers purple and saguaro flowers pink, how science can explain it all. To satisfy my own curiosity, if nothing else.”