Marietta turned to him, but his gaze wasn’t on the statue. It was on her.
“Deemed the quickest hooved fey creature, scholars say they were impossible to catch.”
“I’ve never heard of such a creature,” she said in awe. “They were never mentioned in my father’s stories. How do you know all this?”
“I spend much of my free time reading,” he said, dropping his gaze for a moment. “Many fey creatures have popped up in my texts.”
How peculiar that a king read about fey creatures that much. A thousand questions surfaced at once, but the King offered his arm and took her down a small path to one side, the guards trailing far behind them on the winding path.
Peonies lined the way, each shrub bursting with magenta and white blooms. “Those shouldn’t be in season still,” she noted, turning to the other side of the path. “And hyacinth should definitely not be in bloom.” She turned to the King.
“Ever-blooming is more than just a pretty, symbolic phrase for Satiros,” King Wyltam said. “We also sit at an apex for magical energy. Many researchers believe that aithyr, the energy used in magic, saturates the soil beneath our feet.”
Marietta slowed her gait, stopping to sniff one of the hyacinths, the powerful floral scent just like the ones at her parents’ house in Notos. “Impossible,” she said. “Do they remain in bloom through the cold months?”
“They do, even when the frost freezes over. Of course, the blooms die over time, but new ones grow in their place.” The King leaned over to look at Marietta’s face while she inspected a peony. “That’s also why we have a wide variety of flowers and plants throughout Satiros.”
“That’s fascinating. Fresh herbs and vegetables year-round,” Marietta said. “Imagine fresh berries all the time!” She grabbed the King’s forearm as her excitement spiked. “Well, any fresh fruit, really. The possibilities for fruit tarts would be endless. Or pies. Or spoon sweets!”
The King laughed, placing his hand over Marietta’s. “What are spoon sweets?”
“You’ve never had a spoon sweet?” she said, gawking at him. “My gods, King Wyltam, if I ever get access to a kitchen again, I promise to make it for you. They’re whole pieces of fruit, like grapes or cherries, cooked with sugar and honey. Sometimes, depending on the recipe, I’ll add various spices into the syrup. But you eat the fruit whole on a spoon.”
The King raised a brow, a full smile coming to his face. “Hence the name spoon sweet.”
“Yes!” Marietta said as he led her down the path. “I’ve made them from sour cherries, pomegranates, figs, even with rose petals or tomatoes. It depends on the season. And you can eat it off the spoon directly, sometimes with coffee if you can afford it. Coffee was a luxury in Notos, sailors bringing the beans on ships from the south. If not coffee, then usually with a glass of water to wash it down. Or you can serve it over yogurt or with sweet bread.”
“Consider me intrigued,” he said, amusement hinting in his deep voice. “I will hold you to that promise, considering you’ve used the palace kitchens twice.”
Marietta paused. “And is that a problem?”
“Not at all,” said the King with a soft voice, his thumb brushing over her knuckles.
Surprised, Marietta dipped her head with a grin. At least the King had no issue with her in the kitchens. If only Keyain understood how happy it made her.
“And as much as I’m enjoying your excitement for spoon sweets,” he said, his eyes turning towards the path, “I’m more excited to show you this statue.”
The King took a narrow path that jutted to the side through thick bushes. Marietta slid her arm from the King, his hand landing in her own. She pulled back for a second, startled by the action, but it was pleasant, comforting. From behind, she had to crane her neck to see the back of the head, not realizing he had almost a half-foot in height on Marietta. Compared to Keyain, everyone seemed small.
He gave her hand a quick squeeze as the path opened up, revealing a monstrous statue of a giant scaled beast, about four times the size of the largest horse Marietta had ever seen.
A reptilian head with pointed teeth topped its neck, which was carved with twisted vines or roots. From its jaw and chest hung stone textured to look like moss. Even from afar, it looked as soft. Thick legs ended in sharp daggers for claws, and a mass of a tail curled around it. Horns branched from the top of its head like a mature tree.
Marietta gasped, gripping the King’s hand as she stared up at the statue. The creature tugged at her mind, recalling a memory she couldn’t drum up. Without thinking, she walked towards it.
“Careful,” the King said at her side as she stepped into the purple flowers that filled the clearing around the statue, “you won’t want to crush such flowers.”
“Asters,” she said in a breathy voice. “They’re resilient and can handle us stepping through them. Just try not to crush the stems and bases.”
“How do you know so much about flowers, Marietta?” the King said above her shoulder.
“My mother and I would purchase them at the market for my father.” She paused, her hand stroking the smooth stone. “He said it always reminded him of his sister, who he left behind in Satiros. Now that I’m thinking about it, he had shared stories of how his sister used to create these elaborate flower displays when they were younger. Allegedly, people requested her to arrange flowers all the time, but I assumed my father exaggerated. Especially after she passed away.” She paused a moment, remembering her father’s grief after losing his only sibling. She sighed and added, “My mother also loved plants and herbs—she’s an herbalist in Notos.”
Upon her touch, the statue seemed to shift under her fingers, though the stone remained still. Curious, she turned to the King.
He stood staring at her, lips parted and brows raised. With a swallow, he managed, “That’s fascinating.”
“Are you alright?” she asked, leaving the King to walk around the creature, her hand dragging across the skin carved like bark.
