He knew instinctively that she was the only gardener in charge of this room, though she might have helpers to do the basic work when she could not. But these flowers bloomed with good care, and her face glowed with happiness as she tended them. Even more than the shakkan house, this was her place to be happy.
“Did you see all you wished?” she asked without looking at him. “Are they not splendid?”
“The emperor of Yanjing would perish of envy if he knew,” Briar assured her. “Even his collection isn’t as good as yours.’
“I should send him something he does not have, then,” murmured Berenene, moving on to the next plant. “As my thanks for his delightful gift of cloth. What do you think of my orchids?”
Briar jammed his hands in his pockets. He didn’t entirely approve of orchids. “Parasites,” he said, one gardener to another.
The empress chuckled. “They are not. They don’t destroy, and real parasites do. Not that I object to parasites outside my garden,” she said knowingly. “I am surrounded by them, all as gaudy and pretty as my orchids. That’s what courtiers are, you know.”
Briar shrugged. “Turn ’em loose and let them do something worthwhile,” he suggested, going over to eye a pot of striped orchids. They moved uneasily, sensing his disapproval.
“Ah, but what I think is worthwhile for my nobles and what they feel is worthwhile are so often different things,” Berenene explained. In the light her creamy skin was luminous. “The problem with nobles is that they never have enough. They always want more. They would get into mischief without my eye on them, and some of that mischief would be directed at me. I would rather keep them in my palatial hothouse, where I can prune them quickly if they show signs of plotting.”
“Seems to me they’d plot more if you kept ’em too close,” Briar said, “but I’m not as good with people as I am plants.” He scowled at the striped orchids, which had begun to tremble. “Stop that,” he commanded them. “I won’t hurt you, now I know you aren’t really parasites. Here.” He stretched a hand out to them and gently touched their stems, sending calm into their veins. “I’d never hurt you.” Thinking of pruning, he added, “Not unless it was good for you.”
Berenene shook her head as she carefully watered a series of boat orchids. “Now I do not understand why you talk to them, and why you might allow them to speak to you. I love them because they are so beautifully silent.”
“Ouch.” Briar winced. “I suppose then that you’ve got the worst job in the world, with folk yattering at you all day.”
The empress laughed. “I’ve grown accustomed. As long as I have my refuges here, I shall do well.” She looked up at the sun and sighed. “I suppose I’ve left them unwatched long enough. It’s nearly midday, and they get cranky when they are not fed.” She caressed a blazing pink tree of life orchid. “Like my beauties, only my nobles are noisier by far. Well, I have my beauties among them, too, to console me.” She removed her gloves and put them away, then left the orchids and walked over to Briar.
“Like that Jakuben, and Finlach?” he asked, following her out through the shakkans.
“Ah, them I am willing to share,” replied Berenene. “Here. This will be quicker.” They left through a side door in the wooden corridor, one that opened onto a flagstone path through the open gardens. “It’s my hope that one of my lovely lads will convince my dear cousin Sandry to remain in Namorn.”
You’ll need more to convince her than she’ll get from those cockawhoops. Briar thought it, but he did not say it. And it’s not my place to tell her Sandry has a will of steel and a mind of her own. Berenene will have to learn that by herself. For the sake of her plants, I hope the lesson doesn’t sting too bad.
Out on the grass, Daja and her companions continued to wait as the palace clocks chimed the passage of one hour, then two. Watching those around her, Daja decided it was like being among turtles. Everyone basked in the sun, contentment on their face. Even the men who joined them, like Jak and Quenaill, did it.
“Is this a northern thing?” Sandry asked after the clock marked the second hour, adjusting the seam in one woman’s gown with her magic. “You come out to bake like buns on a tray?”
“Wait till you survive a Dancruan winter,” advised the black-haired and black-eyed Caidlene fa Sarajane, a lady-in-waiting. “Then you’ll love the sun, too.”
“But it’s terrible for your skin,” Sandry pointed out. “You’ll get all leathery in time.”
“We have lotions and creams and balms for our skin,” said Rizu, leaning her head back so the sun gilded her face. “And winter is much too long. We’ll risk it.”
Daja looked around. “I thought I saw older people inside, but no one here is older than thirty,” she remarked.
Their companions chuckled.
“We’re supposed to keep up with her,” Rizu explained, smiling. “Mornings, you never know if she’ll take it into her head to go riding—”
“Or hunting,” said Jak, who sat cross-legged on Sandry’s other side. “Or to the beach,” he continued dreamily, “or to market…”
“The older ones rejoin us later in the day if there’s nothing else going on,” Rizu said. “Today Her Imperial Majesty wanted those closer in age to Lady Sandrilene to meet her, and she didn’t want it formal.”