Page 99 of Tamed By Her Touch

“Ugh. Good to know.”

“They are quite useful for certain kinds of poisoning,” Maera said.

“I’m sure they are,” Clair remarked and made a mental note not to touch the alien vomit-flowers.

They spent the next hour moving through the conservatory, and despite everything else occupying her mind, Clair found herself becoming completely absorbed in the work. This was what she loved—new plants, new chemical pathways, new possibilities.

Maera was knowledgeable and enthusiastic, though she repeatedly insisted that she was a physician rather than a botanist. Still, she knew the traditional uses of nearly every species they passed and was able to access detailed medical records through a small crystalline tablet she carried with her.

Eventually, however, Clair remembered the pale lavender drink she had consumed that morning.

“Where’s the veloria?” she asked.

Maera smiled.

“I wondered how long it would take you to ask.”

“You knew I would?” Clair asked, surprised.

“You spent most of breakfast staring at my pitcher as though you wished to take it apart molecule by molecule,” her hostess said dryly.

Clair laughed.

“I guess I kind of did. It had such a unique taste—I want to know more about its medicinal properties.”

“I’ll be happy to tell you. Come. The veloria requires special growing conditions.”

Maera led her toward the far side of the conservatory, where a curved translucent wall separated one growing area from the rest. When they passed through it, the temperature dropped noticeably and the air became much more humid. A faint floral fragrance filled Clair’s nose—soft and sweet with a sharper undertone she couldn’t identify.

The veloria grew in long raised beds filled with dark violet soil. At first Clair thought the plants were fairly ordinary vines. Their stems were thin and silvery-green, and their leaves were shaped somewhat like elongated hearts, though every leaf had a delicate lavender vein running through its center.

Then she saw the flowers.

“Oh, those are beautiful,” she exclaimed.

Each blossom was about the size of her hand and shaped like a wide trumpet. The petals were pale lavender near the stem but deepened gradually toward the edges until they became deep purple. Tiny silver specks shimmered across their surfaces like stardust, and the entire flower gave off a faint glow.

Maera reached down and touched one gently.

“They bloom only at night and begin closing shortly after the first sun rises. That is why the blossoms used in the nectar are harvested before dawn.”

“Does the timing affect the chemical composition?” Clair aside.

Maera nodded.

“We believe so. Nectar made from flowers harvested later in the day is considerably less potent.”

Clair’s eyebrows went up.

“Potent in what way?”

Maera hesitated.

“I suppose effective would be the better word. Women say they do not receive the same benefits with day-harvested nectar.”

Clair crouched beside the plant. She was longing to examine it.

“May I touch it?” she asked, looking up at Maera.