Beyond the array of flowers there are tidy rows of vegetables and herbs, as well as fruit trees and a whole variety of vines, plus other plants—trees, bushes, flowers—that don’t exist in the Upper World. I could spend weeks learning about all of them and still I don’t think it would be enough. A botanist would have a field day here, this place being their literal Amaranthus.
And in the middle of all this is Sarvi. I don’t see the unicorn that often, so to see it’s big dark form in the middle of the garden takes me by surprise.
Did I frighten you? Sarvi asks, turning to see me. I suppose you may have frightened me.
“I’m sorry,” I say. I gesture around me, hoping I’m not going to get in trouble for being here. “I’d never been to the garden before. Thought it was the best place to enjoy the sunshine.”
Sarvi lifts its head to the sky, closing its one eye, seeming to relax. It is a blessing to have Death happy enough for this to happen. Then its eye fixes on me. I hate to be presumptuous, but would you happen to be the cause of all this? If so, might I suggest you keep it up?
There’s a knowing tone there and I find myself blushing. Basically, keep screwing Death so we can get some sunlight. He doesn’t sound much different than Bell with her talk of blowjobs and sunshine.
“I’ll see what I can do,” I say. I then clear my throat. “So, what are you doing out here?”
Sarvi nods at a patch of ice-blue pumpkins. They’re my favorite. Ice pumpkins. I returned from the Frozen Void a while back with some of the North’s local delicacies, hoping to grow them here.
“Does anything from the realm grow in the garden?”
The unicorn does a shrug of sorts, briefly lifting its bat wings and showcasing the row of exposed ribs below. There is magic here, of course. Death has made the land especially fertile and Pyry has been enchanted to become the perfect cook. But when it comes to using magic, it’s best to use it sparingly, especially when it comes to food and drink. Magically induced food has zero nutritional value. Over time, it may actually diminish the use of magic in the consumer.
“Interesting,” I muse, reaching out and touching the leaves of the snowbeans growing on the nearest vine.
Here, let me give you a tour, the unicorn says. We walk along the flowers and plants and Sarvi starts pointing items out with its horn, explaining what they are and where they come from. Meanwhile, butterflies continue to fly to and fro, much to my delight.
One of them even lands on the tip of Sarvi’s iron horn, slowly fluttering its wings which glow blue and pink.
This is a moon butterfly, Sarvi informs me. They only live during a full moon, so you’ll see them fly around for a couple of days on either side of the celestial event, then they die.
“Wow,” I say breathlessly. “It’s so beautiful.”
Sarvi suddenly waves its horn, causing the butterfly to take flight. Then the unicorn lunges forward, teeth bared, and snatches the butterfly out of the air, swallowing it down whole.
Beautiful and delicious, Sarvi says.
My eyes go wide. I guess Death did tell me that the unicorns could be nasty.
Sarvi chuckles, noting my expression. They’re a delicacy. More so than the bloodmoths, but you should be thankful I enjoy eating those as well.
“Do I want to know why they’re called bloodmoths?” I ask warily.
They’re like oversized mosquitos, Sarvi explains. And they swell up with blood as they feast. But I happen to love blood, so they make a tasty little snack.
The unicorn licks its lips with its black tongue and I try not to cringe.
Eventually Sarvi goes back to tending to some of the vegetables, while I lean against the stone wall that surrounds the garden and close my eyes to the sun, breathing in deep, and trying to forget all this talk about blood-sucking moths.
I hate to say it but, when it’s like this outside, I almost like it here. The relentless moody weather would get to me, but when the sun is out, it feels invigorating, and head-clearing. And for once, I’m not trying to use my clear head to try and plot my escape.
Then the air changes, a gust of cold along with the sun, and I know that Death is in the garden, too.
A thrill runs through me before I even open my eyes.
“There you are,” Death says to me, and I look over to see him appear at the garden entrance. His face falls in the dim shadow of the castle towers, exaggerating the sharp lines of his cheekbones, the strong cut of his jaw. His beard is thicker now, somehow making him even more manly, as if that were possible. A breeze picks up, tussling his long dark hair that’s loose around his shoulders, and rays of sunlight make his visible runes gleam.