Peeking through her trembling fingers, Elena saw a gaping hole where the lock once resided, surrounded by a spiderweb of shattered glass. Disbelief washed over her. How fragile was this supposed barrier protecting them from the deadly plants within? She’d known glass doors weren’t fortresses, but the ease with which it had been breached sent shivers down her spine.
Carmen pushed open the shattered doorway, stepping aside with a curt nod. Hazel, with a disdainful flick of her dress, strode into the greenhouse, the crunching of broken glass a chilling counterpoint to the tense silence.
Panic clawed at Elena’s throat as Cura dabbed at the wound with the handkerchief, the pristine white fabric rapidly turning crimson. “Elena, what do we do?” Cura whispered, her eyes flitting nervously between Elena’s wound and the retreating figures of Hazel and Carmen.
“Shouldn’t we call the knights?” They were supposed to be guarding her, but Hazel had cleverly maneuvered them away with a fabricated tea party invitation.
Elena considered Cura’s words. Would the distant crash of breaking glass be enough to rouse them from their enforced idleness? Cura, sensing her hesitation, resolutely wrapped the bloodied cloth around her hand and started towards the outer door.
“Don’t be foolish,” Hazel’s voice cut through the tense silence, laced with a chilling nonchalance. Despite her back being turned, she seemed to possess an unnerving awareness, her gaze sweeping the greenhouse as if she could see through walls. “Nothing here poses a real threat. As long as we avoid touching the poisonous plants, there’s no need for panic.”
Elena sighed, her gaze drawn to the shattered doorway. She could almost picture Serene’s fury if she were to witness this wanton destruction.
With a resolute glint in her eye, Elena retrieved the discarded flute from the floor. She brushed the dirt and blood from her dress with practiced movements, then secured the instrument to her inner wrist, the knot hidden from sight. Displaying it around her neck would only invite another confrontation with the increasingly volatile Hazel.
Joining Cura, they entered the greenhouse. Inside, Hazel stood before a towering plant, its vibrant blooms heavy in the humid air. Her posture was odd, her head tilted back at an impossible angle as if to admire the plant’s crown. The elaborate headpiece adorning Hazel seemed precariously balanced, its weight threatening to topple her over at any moment.
“Are all these plants poisonous?” Hazel asked curiously.
Cura’s response was a terse, “Yes.”
Disbelief colored Hazel’s tone. “Why cultivate so many of them?”
The greenhouse overflowed with more than just Vanaichi. A chilling array of flora lined the path, each species boasting its own deadly secret. Some caused a mere nuisance – itchy skin or an irritated rash – while others held the power to paralyze or steal a life within moments.
The thought of revealing Kennard’s potential immunity by consuming these toxins, even to Hazel, his betrothed, was unthinkable. “Exposure without proper training can be dangerous,” Elena warned cautiously. “Even pollen inhalation can be harmful. Perhaps it’s best if you stayed outside.”
Elena spoke in the softest tones possible, her every word carefully measured to avoid provoking Hazel. But her efforts seemed in vain. Hazel, with a dismissive wave of her hand, ventured deeper into the treacherous landscape.
“Elena!” A sense of urgency laced Cura’s voice as she followed Hazel’s trail.
They emerged into a clearing dominated by Vanaichi trees, their vibrant blooms a heady presence in the confined space. Hazel stood amidst them, a curious glint in her eye.
“What’s this flower?” she asked, gesturing towards a blossom. “I’ve seen it in the Grand Duke’s chambers.”
Elena hesitated, a prickle of unease crawling up her spine. Hazel’s presence in Kennard’s quarters wasn’t necessarily suspicious, yet a disquieting dissonance settled in her gut. Pushing down the unwelcome possessiveness, Elena offered a neutral response.
“It’s called Vanaichi.”
“Vanaichi, huh? And is it poisonous like these others?” Hazel swept a hand over the surrounding plants.
“Yes,” Elena confirmed.
“So the Grand Duke consumes poisonous plants as well?” Hazel’s voice held a sly edge.
Elena’s lips pressed into a thin line. Silence seemed the safest course of action.
Hazel’s amusement crackled through the tense atmosphere. “You wouldn’t lie to me, would you, Elena?”
Elena forced a steady tone. “No, of course not.”
“Interesting,” Hazel mused. A low chuckle escaped her lips. “Cura, my dear, would you be so kind as to pick a few of these Vanaichi flowers?”
Cura’s face drained of color, her apprehension morphing into stark terror. “What?” Elena echoed, bewildered.
“You heard me perfectly,” Hazel retorted, her eyes flashing with a dangerous glint. “I said pick some of those Vanaichi flowers.”
“But they’re poisonous!” Elena exclaimed, incredulous.
“Exactly,” Hazel countered, her gaze unwavering. “You claim they’re poisonous, yet I’ve witnessed the Grand Duke consume tea brewed from these very flowers. How can I be sure you’re not lying?”
