She sighed.
Grow, she told them in their language. She had never known what it felt like to them, but it seemed they understood her well enough. Have what you need from me, she added grumpily, just do it.
The relief was a slither from inside her bones: Yessssssssssssssssss.
When she opened her eyes, the seedling on the ground had blossomed into a thin series of branches, stretching from her feet up to the ceiling and then sprawling over it, spreading across it like a rash. The one embedded in the table had cracked the wood in half, sprouting upwards from it like moss over a barren tree trunk. The last, the broken one, quivered and burst in a ripe stretch of color, taking the form of vines which then proceeded to bear fruit, each one ripening at an astronomical rate while they watched.
When the apples were round and heavy and temptingly ready to be plucked, Reina exhaled, releasing the ache in her shoulders, and glanced expectantly at her visitor.
“Ah,” Atlas said, shifting in his seat. The plants had left little room for him to sit comfortably, and he no longer had space for his legs. “So it’s both a gift and a talent, then.”
Reina knew her own worth well enough not to comment. “What other books do you have?”
“I haven’t extended an offer yet, Miss Mori,” Atlas replied.
“You’ll want me,” she said, lifting her chin. “Nobody can do what I can do.”
“True, but you don’t know the other candidates on the list,” he pointed out. “We have two of the finest physicists the world has seen for generations, a uniquely gifted illusionist, a telepath the likes of which are incomparable, an empath capable of luring a crowd of thousands—”
“It doesn’t matter who else you have.” Reina set her jaw. “You’ll still want me.”
Atlas considered her a moment.
“Yes,” he said. “Yes, that’s quite true, isn’t it?”
Ha ha ha, laughed the plants. Ha ha, Mother wins, we win.
“Stop it,” Reina whispered to the branches that had swept down to brush the top of her head with approval, and Atlas rose to his feet with a chuckle, extending a hand which contained a single slip of cardstock.
“Take this,” he said, “and in about four hours, you’ll be transported for orientation.”
“For what?” Reina asked, and he shrugged.
“Better I not have to repeat myself,” he replied. “Best of luck to you, Reina Mori. This will not be your final test.”
Then he was gone, and Reina scowled.
The last thing she needed was a cafe full of plants, and now his coffee sat forgotten on the counter, already going cold.
TRISTAN
Three Hours Ago
“NO,” TRISTAN SAID when the door opened. “Not again. Not now.”
“Mate,” groaned Rupesh, “you’ve been in here for ages.”
“Yes,” Tristan agreed. “Doing my job. Incredible, isn’t it?”
“Hardly,” Rupesh muttered, falling into the vacant chair across from Tristan’s desk. “You’re the future son and heir, Tris. Hardly makes sense for you to work so hard when you’ll only inherit it by default.”
“First of all, this company isn’t the monarchy,” Tristan muttered, not looking up from the figures he’d been working on. He waved a hand, rearranging them. His valuation was slightly off and he adjusted the discount rate, knowing the risk-averse board of investors would want to see a broader range of percentages. “Even if it were, I’m not the heir, I’m just—”
“Just engaged to the boss’s daughter,” Rupesh supplied for him, raising a brow. “You should set the date, you know. It’s been a couple of months, hasn’t it? I’m sure Eden’s getting impatient.”
She was, and she’d been growing less subtle about it by the day. “I’ve been busy,” Tristan said stiffly. “And anyway, this is precisely what I said I didn’t have time for. Out,” he said, gesturing to the door. “I have at least three more valuations to finish before I can leave.”
It was the annual Wessex family holiday and Tristan would be Eden’s escort, as always. This would be Tristan’s fourth year coming along as the eldest Wessex daughter’s plus one, and needless to say, it was not his favorite activity. Watching his step, holding his tongue, all of it was exhausting—but still, it was worth it. It was worth it to be here, to be considered an heir by someone whose name was not the one belonging to his biological father.