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“How can I help, Emrys?” Her soft request drew me from my mental wandering.
“How are you with conversing with gardeners?” I asked suddenly.
“Gardeners?” Her delicately winged brows lowered.
“Yes.” I crossed to the desk and pulled out the stack of petitions from beneath a pile of books. My efforts of blocking them from my sight had been fruitless considering the gardeners sent a representative a day to repeat their demands, as well as following that up with a written request. Someone was determined to change my mind about the hedge maze.
“These are from the gardeners.” I extended the sheaf of pages to her. “Now that a good portion of the gardens are no longer required for hosting the princesses, they are all petitioning for various plans or schemes. With everything else I must do, this is the lowest of priorities.”
She leafed through the pages of Elvish script as I spoke. She paused when she reached for a diagram and frowned at it. “How many gardeners do you employ?”
“One head gardener, five undergardeners, and at least a dozen dirt movers.”
She tilted her head to the side as she considered the drawing in her hands. Then she flipped the page all the way around. Understanding dawned in her expression.
“I only have one demand.”
“Oh, what is that?” She studied the drawing with a small smile. “This plan strikes me as whimsical. Did you look at it?”
“No. I didn’t. Someone on the gardening team wants to tear up the hedge maze.”
The amusement in her eyes vanished as she sought my face. “And your response?”
“No.”
“Good.” She flashed a smile at me. “Is that your demand?”
I nodded, holding her gaze. “The maze is our place, and I have no intention of giving it up.”
She blushed lightly, avoiding my gaze by shifting her attention to the garden plans. “How much authority do I have?” She flipped to the next petition.
“Do what you wish. I trust you.”
Restacking the pages, she tapped them into neatness and then scanned my desk again. “Is there anything else I can take off your hands?”
I laughed softly at the eagerness of her manner. “I thought you sought me out for help.”
Flashing me a quick smile, she shrugged. “You are helping me. I need to find my place, my purpose. Lady Channing says there hasn’t been a queen in centuries and was no help in guiding me in the scope of my duties.”
“My mother died long before my father.”
“I thought elves were long-lived.” She moved toward me, circumventing the desk to reach me. I met her halfway, capturing her outstretched hand.
“We are,” I agreed, grazing the back of her hand with my thumb and savoring the warmth of her skin. “However, childbearing is difficult for our women. Many married women choose to not conceive their first child until they are at least a century old, sometimes more, because they know they risk death.”
I loved the way the light played in her hair, catching in the coils of the braids and glinting. Reaching up, I caught the coiled curl next to her ear again. It perfectly complemented the scattering of freckles dusting the bridge of her nose.
“But your medical intervention is so advanced. Lady Channing says you can heal most human ailments.”
I nodded, gazing deep into her eyes. “Even yours, if you let Merlon heal you.”
She shivered and closed her eyes. “Several people have mentioned that.” However, instead of drawing away as I expected, she glanced back at the desk. “I am beginning to realize that I need to be whole.”
Suspicion nagged me. “Why?”
“I can’t be the queen you need, the queen the country needs, if I am constantly cautious or ill. Losing hours, or days, to an episode inconveniences everyone.” She bit her lip. “Also, I do want children, and…”
“We shouldn’t pursue children until you are well.”
