Page 158 of You’re So Vein

Augustin’s hand fits into mine, the cool of his fingers a balm against the boisterous celebrations. “Forgive my foolish heart, but I think we should take a walk in the moonlight.”

“Durant, you read my mind.”

He leads me across the village green – where our new mayor chases after Rob the squirrel, who has stolen his hat – through the narrow alley beside Nevermore Bookshop, past the bins and onto the woodland path. My boots crunch on the first of December’s snow.

“I still can’t believe you didn’t win,” I say. “All of that campaigning, getting me disqualified, and you were beaten by Reggie.”

“What can I say?” Augustin shrugs. “This town loves whimsy. I think Reggie will be a fine mayor.”

“He will not, but as long as we get our weekly council meeting – aka village-sanctioned battleground – I think things worked out for the best.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

After a few hundred metres, Augustin steps off the path, helping me weave through the trees using his forest god senses to guide the way. I want to ask where we’re going, but something in the urgent hurry of his steps makes me think this isn’t a teasing moment.

He pulls me up a steep bank and through a copse of ancient oaks. The forest quiets as we step into a clearing, as if the birds regard this as a sacred space.

It’s ringed by towering ancient ash and silver-trunked birch, their branches clasping overhead like the spines of a cathedral. A small creek cuts through one corner, the water running so clear I see every smooth river stone beneath. My shoes land on soft moss that covers the ground like a carpet, dusted with a coating of white snow. In the centre, moonlight pours through a natural break in the canopy, casting everything in a crisp, magical glow.

“What do you think of this spot?” Augustin asks.

“It’s beautiful.” I say. “But why are we here? Please don’t tell me you’re taking up fungus farming. Beth will become your new best friend.”

“I made something for you.” Augustin waves his hand.

The moss trembles. The snow, like a layer of pale lace, shifts.

And then, like the ground is exhaling in a sweeping breath, red blossoms erupt from the earth. Hundreds of them. Thousands. They push upwards through the mossy earth, their petals unfurling into the same vibrant red that the Gorilla Gardener used in all his bouquets, crimson against the winter-soft world.

Their stems spiral into a design of intricate paths, winding around one another, until the whole clearing is transformed.

A labyrinth.

“Walk with me?” Augustin holds out his hand.

What can I do? I can’t refuse a plant daddy.

I take his hand.

We walk the labyrinth’s path together, his hand in mine, his eyes sparkling with one last secret. The scent rises to greet me – warm and sweet and a little wild, like him.

When we reach the centre, he turns to face me, cupping my hands in his. “What do you think?”

“You built me a labyrinth,” I breathe.

“I wanted you to have somewhere that’s secret, that just belongs to you. Somewhere with no pressure, where every decision is the right one.”

My knees wobble. But not from fear. From the sheer, impossible beauty of this place and the equally impossible man who created it.

“The land this sits on… it belongs to me.” Augustin bows his head. “Your mother found it for me, actually. She can be very persuasive. It’s a beautiful stretch of woodland along the boundary of the village, and I think we should build a new cottage here. For Hannah and me. And you.”

“Yes.” My chest bursts with excitement. I spin around, looking at the clearing with new eyes. I’m already compiling a to-do list for the project. “We could make it similar to your last one, but bigger, with a separate wing for Hannah to have to herself, and I could get Papa to help with the building if he feels up to it, and maybe Celeste could—”

As I complete my spin, I notice that Augustin has dropped onto one knee on the mossy ground. A single tendril pokes from his shirtsleeve, holding a tiny velvet box.

“Augustin Durant,” I say sternly, even though my voice doesn’t sound like my own. “What are you doing down there?”

“Admiring the view,” he says, as the vine flips the box open to reveal a beautiful hand-forged ring set with three glittering, crimson rubies. “Also, there is a sharp rock digging into my knee. Would you—”