Page 206 of May: Bloom & Bane

Don’t, he whispers.

“Vaelí,” Eden murmurs. “Why are all of your flowers shaped like⁠—”

“They’re not,” he blurts, both hands coming to block the case behind us in a move so transparently guilty it could not have been improved upon had he practiced for a year. “They’re—it’s a varietal. A natural—they grow that way. Sometimes. In nature.”

“In nature, hm?” She hums.

“Frequently.”

Magnificent, I tell him. Flawless—truly. I think she might have bought it.

Eden crosses her arms on top of her belly and arches her brow.

“Sage.”

“... Yes.”

“Did you make these… for me?”

Tell her they’re special roots for soup, I hiss in the back of our mind. Tell her it’s a ceremonial fertility gourd. I dare you.

Sage is utterly paralyzed. The purple flush has spread from his ears all the way down his throat.

“They are…” Sage swallows, his voice cracking. “They are a traditional… botanical study in symmetry.”

“In symmetry,” Eden repeats, her mouth twitching. A tiny dimple appears on her cheek as she tries to keep a straight face. She walks closer, her gaze dropping to the bottom row. “And they just happen to match your dimensions?”

“A master craftsman respects the blueprints of greatness,” I declare loudly, flashing a cocky grin.

“They do not match anything!” Sage blurts out. “It is a soil density anomaly! The nitrogen levels in this specific shelf caused a… a structural elongation.”

Eden stops right in front of us, blinking up at Sage’s panicked face.

“Would you like to try your… structural elongation on me?”

The greenhouse goes quiet. Sage doesn’t say a word. So I take the wheel, a partial shift rippling over us. Our left eye goes from lavender to the deep, endless black she likes.

“He spent three months on those, ash’kaela,” I murmur. “I think he’s a little embarrassed that his project isn’t… finished.” I lean down until we’re a breath from her cheek. “Why don’t we show him how much you appreciate his gift?”

The change in her scent is immediate. Sage groans in the back of our skull.

I pluck the first bloom from the case. It’s one of the prettiest ones, shaped like a lily, not yet open. It starts out ivory and bleeds into a rich, deep violet where my golden venya beads thickly along the petal’s edge. The first thing in this greenhouse we actually made together, and the one I’m proudest of.

“This one,” I tell her, twirling in the sunlight so she can watch my venom sparkle, “he grew. And I… improved.”

You suggested one ingredient, Sage mutters.

I suggested the best ingredient, I counter.

Eden’s eyes track the flower, pupils already blown wide. “What does it do?”

“Hold still and find out, mí’aevúna.”

I trail the cool petals down her neck, my venom painting a thin golden line from the hollow of her throat to the valley between her breasts. The petals leave her skin glistening, the wet line slowly warming as the venya sinks in. I tease the flower over one of her nipples.

“Tell her what you were thinking about when you made this one, Sage,” I purr.

“You,” Sage rasps. “I was thinking about making something that could feel even half as good as you deserve, on the days your body is working so hard for us.”