Chapter 49 Tending to the Garden
Damien
The path home is quieter than the one we took up. Snow crunches under our boots, the world shrinking back into dusk as the last of the mountain light fades behind us. Bella walks beside me, wrapped in her coat, hair escaping in pale strands that catch the dying light. She’s quiet, which isn’t unusual, but this quiet feels different. Her hands are tucked into her sleeves, and every so often she glances up at me like she’s measuring whether to speak or not.
You should say something, the dragon murmurs.
I said enough for one day.
You barely spoke at all. He huffs.
I let her talk.
And you liked it.
I don’t answer him.
We reach the edge of the lower grounds, where the forest starts to thin, and the snow grows patchier over the cobblestones. The castle rooflines glint through the trees ahead, faintly gold under the last threads of sunlight. I’m thinking of how she’ll probably disappear into the library again when she finally speaks.
“Hey, Damien?”
“Yes?”
She hesitates, biting her lip. “You wouldn’t happen to know where your gardeners live, would you?”
It takes me a moment to process the question. “My gardeners?”
“Yeah. You know — plants, pruning, flowers, all that?”
“I’m aware of what they do,” I say, trying not to sound completely lost.
She huffs a laugh. “Good, because that’s where my friend lives.”
Ah. The one who nearly threw a rock at me. I blink. “You mean the mouthy woman who stormed my castle and threatened to burn it down?”
“Sure,” she says, waving a hand. “That’s the polite way to say it.”
I nod slowly. “Yes. I know where she resides. I know where all my staff live.”
That earns me a curious look. “All of them?”
“It’s my responsibility to.”
“Right,” she says, half-smiling. “Of course it is.” She looks forward again. “Would you… mind walking there with me? Just to check in?”
I stop. Not abruptly, but enough that she nearly bumps into me. “Now?”
“Yes.”
“That isn’t necessary. She’ll be well cared for. The staff quarters are—”
“I’d feel better if I saw her myself.” Her voice is quiet.
The dragon stirs. She needs us close.
“I know,” I say under my breath.
Her brow furrows. “What?”
“Nothing,” I answer quickly. “Of course. We’ll go.”
The words surprise us both. Her smile is small, a flicker of relief more than anything, and we fall back into step together, turning off the main path toward the outer ring of the estate.
The dwarven cottages are built low against the hillside, each one set neatly into the slope with heavy stone chimneys and thick wooden beams. The snow piles high around the doors, and faint trails of smoke twist into the night. When we reach the last cottage, Bella stops. Light spills through the small windows, golden and warm and laughter filters out.
She smiles faintly. “That’s her.”
I nod once, but before I can answer, the door swings open, and Ashlyn stands there, hands on her hips, hair wild, wearing something that looks more like a painter’s apron than clothing. She freezes when she sees me, eyes widening just slightly.
“Majesty,” she says, her tone halfway between a greeting and a challenge. “Didn’t expect you to come knocking.”
“Neither did I,” I admit.
Bella elbows me lightly. “We came to check in and see how you were doing.”
Ashlyn’s grin breaks across her face. “Oh, I’m thriving, thank you very much.” She swings the door wider and waves us in with a dramatic sweep of her arm. “Come in, come in! Ignore the mess; the boys aren’t used to guests with titles. Or pants.”
Bella laughs, stepping inside without hesitation. “Considering who I’m living with, pants are already a luxury I’ve stopped expecting.”
Seven dwarves, each with beards of varying lengths and temperaments, crowd the narrow space. They freeze when they see me, mid-conversation, mid-bite of dinner. One drops a spoon. Another mutters a prayer. Ashlyn sighs and plants her hands on her hips. “Honestly, you’d think he eats people for breakfast. Relax, lads! He’s house-trained.”
That makes Bella laugh, and the dwarves glance at her, then at me, and eventually return to their food with the wary caution of men sitting beside a sleeping bear. Ashlyn ushers us to the small table near the hearth. There’s a smell of stew and freshly baked bread in the air. Every surface is covered in something—mugs, tools, herbs drying from the rafters. The place is cluttered and chaotic.
“You’ve been busy,” Bella says, looking around.
“Oh, please. You leave me in a house for five minutes, and I start fixing things. These guys are saints, but they’ve got the decorative instincts of a rock. I’ve introduced curtains, rugs and soap.”
One of the dwarves grumbles, “We had soap.”
“You had a soap,” she corrects. “Singular and fossilised.”
They don't even challenge her, they just...accept her need to be right.
Ashlyn gestures toward a small pot bubbling over the fire. “You two eaten? There’s plenty left.”
Bella inhales deeply. “Smells incredible.”
“That’s because it is. Sit. I’ll grab bowls.”
Before I can protest, Bella’s already perched at the edge of the table, chatting with one of the dwarves about the spices in the stew. Within minutes, she has them laughing...real laughter, not the strained kind people use when I’m in the room. I stay standing a moment longer, watching how easily she fits wherever she goes, how she disarms fear without even trying.
She glances back at me, catching my stare. “You can sit, you know. No one’s going to faint.”
“I’m fine,” I say automatically.
Ashlyn rolls her eyes. “You’re massive. Sit before you break my ceiling just by looming.”
Reluctantly, I lower myself onto the bench beside Bella. The wood creaks but holds, and then she slides a bowl toward me, her fingers brushing mine just briefly, enough to quiet the ache that had been building since we left the mountains.
The dragon sighs contentedly. Better.
The rest of the meal passes in easy conversation — stories, laughter, teasing that feels far too normal for a man who’s spent years surrounded by fear and silence. When we finally stand to leave, Ashlyn hugs Bella tight, promising to stop by the castle tomorrow.
“Try not to get kidnapped again,” she says, then looks at me. “And you—keep her smiling. That’s an order.”
“I don’t take orders,” I reply.
“Yeah,” she says with a grin, “but you follow hers.”
Bella laughs, tugging my sleeve toward the door...And I let her.
She’s still smiling when she glances back at me. “She’s good, isn’t she?”
“She’s loud.”
“She’s my friend.”
“I gathered.”
We start walking again, the path glittering with frost under the moonlight. She hums softly to herself, the sound light and unguarded, and for a moment, I let myself enjoy the quiet between us.
The dragon stirs, low and thoughtful. She tames everything she touches.
Even you? I ask silently.
Especially me, he says.
And as the castle lights come into view, I realise I don’t disagree.