FORGOTTEN ORCHIDS | CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
IT WOULD BE A WEEK before Atticus could comfortably move around on his own. The skin of his chest was still tender, and it hurt to breathe when he moved too fast, but it was a relief to be able to walk around without someone at his side to watch him in case he fell. As much as he enjoyed Jane's company, sometimes he just needed time for himself; tending to the garden was a compromise with her. It allowed him to move around privately without straining himself, though there was a guard posted nearby in case Atticus needed help.
As if he would ever cry out for help. He would rather crawl across Vulpesterra on broken legs than admit that he was weak.
Atticus was delighted to find that the roses were in full bloom, petals stretching toward the sun despite the cold that surrounded them. There was frost coating the ground—it was a miracle the plants hadn't shriveled in on themselves with how Atticus had neglected to care for them as of late. Sure, he had an excuse or two, but none of them would hold up to his own standards.
As he always did, Atticus kept his back turned to the entrance to the gardens, even with the underlying paranoia that it would lead to someone sneaking up to kill him. For once, he was right.
Well, about the sneaking up on him part. He wasn't sure Jimmy quite had the motive to kill him yet.
"You should be resting."
Atticus nearly jumped out of his skin, feeling his heart skip a few beats—and decidedly not because it was Jimmy who had shown up. He pursed his lips as he heard Jimmy trying not to laugh behind him, clearly having seen Atticus' reaction; it was a relief, at least, that Jimmy was in good spirits around him.
Atticus got to his feet, taking the time to brush dirt off his pants before he turned to face Jimmy. He went to speak, then paused, coming up with nothing of value—though Jimmy would have hung on to every word he said anyway. Shrugging, Atticus sighed and stepped forward, pulling Jimmy by his arm into a hug.
Jimmy stayed still for a moment, freezing in place, before gathering the courage to return the hug. Atticus was the perfect height for Jimmy to rest his chin on Atticus' head; he did so, after a moment, and let himself relax into the embrace that he hadn't expected. Atticus didn't seem eager to let go, either.
"You didn't tell me you were visiting," Atticus pointed out, reluctantly stepping out of the hug.
"I thought you were still resting," Jimmy admitted. "Lady Jane directed me out here."
Atticus rolled his eyes fondly, shaking his head. "Of course, she did." He pushed a stray curl behind his ear, trying to decide what to say. Surely Jimmy's arrival signaled forgiveness for Atticus' persistence . . . weeks ago? Atticus had lost track of time. It was hard to follow it when there were so many things to take care of.
Of course, Atticus should have taken Jimmy's and Scott's previous arrival in Vulpesterra for what it was—forgiveness.
"Is it something urgent?" is what Atticus decided to ask instead. He internally winced at his own rudeness; surely, even if Jimmy's visit was for something mundane, Atticus could make time for him. Even if Jimmy hadn't saved his life a week before, he was Vulpesterra's alliance. Atticus' friend. His visits should be met with warmth no matter how much Atticus wants to be alone with his injuries.
Jimmy shook his head, which gave Atticus some relief. Nothing to do with Xornoth, then. "I was just hoping we could, ah, hang out. We haven't done that in a while," he admitted. Atticus smiled thinly, trying not to feel guilty. "And I think you could use a distraction after the attack," Jimmy added boldly, squaring his shoulders to draw together his fractured confidence. "And we need to talk. About what happened before."
Atticus allowed a small smile to break through, glad to see that Jimmy wasn't returning to his anxious, smaller self despite the challenges their friendship had recently faced. As much of a disaster Atticus knew he was himself, he could only imagine how Jimmy had been feeling for the past few weeks. The familiar feeling of guilt surged in his chest, shortening his breaths—but it might have also been his injuries preventing him from relaxing.
"Define 'hang out,'" Atticus finally said. Gardening, that was manageable for another hour; sitting in the library sounded even better. But he and Jimmy usually walked around the kingdom and talked for hours—something that sounded like hell to Atticus' ribs at the moment.
Jimmy smiled nervously, though he seemed pleased that Atticus wasn't immediately shooting down the idea of spending time with him. "Well, I've never spent a birthday alone, so I'm really okay with anything. Lizzie and Joel are working on something to help Scott with Xornoth." His eyes widened as he spoke the name, but Atticus' heart was racing for a different reason than the reminder of the attack. Birthday? "He's attacked House Blossom now, I don't know if you've heard. It happened yesterday. Thank the gods Lady Katherine was prepared for it after Vulpesterra, or the damage would have been so much worse," he rambled.
Atticus held up a hand instinctively, not actually expecting Jimmy to stop talking; but the hybrid closed his mouth and stared at Atticus, as if waiting for permission to continue speaking. Atticus dropped his hand back to his side, taking a deep breath. His mind was scrambling to settle on a plan. "Can you meet me at the stables in an hour? Maybe explore the kingdom until then, visit Gary and such," he suggested.
Jimmy's brows furrowed for a moment before he shrugged. "I can do that. An hour?" Atticus nodded quickly. Jimmy offered him a smile before heading back the way he had come, leaving Atticus alone in the gardens once again.
Atticus didn't have long to miss him. As soon as the sound of footsteps had faded, he jumped into action, making a b-line for the kitchens and brushing off the guards and servants who reached out to ask if they could do the task for him. It may have been easier to let someone else take over, but he needed this plan, however half-assed it was, to be executed perfectly.
Jimmy had never spent a birthday alone. That wasn't a concept Atticus was familiar with, but if Jimmy wanted to spend his birthday with Atticus, Atticus would damn well make sure it was a good one.
Thankfully, the kitchens weren't far from the gardens; too many rulers kept the cooks below ground level, but Atticus had never understood it. Having the kitchens on the first floor of the castle allowed windows, which aired out the room on hot days and allowed the cooks to tell the time without having to run upstairs every few hours. It kept them close to the dining room, too—a win-win situation. The 'dungeon' level, as most called it, was reserved for, well, the dungeons.
And wine. A lot of wine. Queen Èlia had been quite the collector of it.
Atticus came to a stop in the kitchen's doorway, knowing better than to cross it. It may have been his castle, but the kitchens belonged to Head Chef Marie. Unless the kingdom was literally on fire—again—there would be no entering of her workplace.
One of the cooks met him at the door once she'd noticed him. She smiled at Atticus warmly, though she looked surprised by his presence. Atticus couldn't blame her—he rarely asked the kitchens to make something specific, usually trusting their judgment when it came to whatever they made for meals. The only exceptions were when other royalty visited Vulpesterra and stayed for dinner.
"Foxling," the woman greeted, dipping her head as a bow. "What can I help you with?"
"I need a picnic basket. And a small cake, ready in an hour and delivered to the stables," Atticus told her. "I'm so sorry for the short notice."
"It's alright. Anything we should avoid?" It didn't feel alright, the short time limit making her brows furrow in worry, but Atticus decided he could feel guilty later.
"Fish," he said. "No fish."
She gave him a funny look, then smiled. "No fish. The basket will be delivered in an hour," she promised before shooing him away from the kitchens. That was fine with him—he had other things to do before meeting up with Jimmy again.
First, he stopped by the laundry room, taking a checkered blanket that had been stored in there for far too long. Then, he headed for the stables next, only allowing himself to rest once he was there. He leaned against one of the wooden supports, holding an arm around his ribs to pull the pain. Maybe taking a walk around Vulpesterra would have been easier than whatever he was doing now, but that was hardly a way to spend a birthday. No matter how happy Jimmy would have been to just spend time with him, Atticus wanted to make this special.
Jimmy had come to him. That had to mean something.
A black and white steed waited for him in the stables, recently brushed and fed. She was one of the newer horses Atticus had approved Thomas to buy, pure black with white spots coloring her coat; according to Thomas, she was as gentle as the wind, adjusting easily to sudden changes in her schedule. That was good—Atticus needed a horse, and she would do just fine.
Thomas hadn't yet decided on a name, so Atticus would call her Winnie until told otherwise. She let him saddle her with only a huff of protest, having been relaxing, then let him take the reigns and lead her out of the stables.
He rode her around the castle, down a trail that led through the woods. Ten minutes in, he went off-trail to the right, leading her over a fallen tree and through colorful plants before pulling on the reigns to stop her. Atticus got off of her back as carefully as he could, taking a moment to catch his breath before he tied the reigns to a nearby tree. Winnie eyed him as if she, too, could tell just how exhausted he was.
Atticus looked up at the sun. "Twenty minutes," he murmured.
He took the blanket and laid it out in front of the waterfall.
Technically, this spot was hidden. He'd discovered it as a child, having run from the guards watching him, and found this place. An oasis, hidden from the main path. The guards knew where it was, in case there was an emergency and no one could find Atticus at first; but they knew to stay away from the clearing in other events, leaving the beauty of it preserved. Atticus himself only came out here once or twice a year.
He laid the blanket on the grass and used nearby stones to hold down the corners. The breeze pushed his hair into his eyes; the waterfall provided a great silence filler, allowing Atticus to work outside of his own mind. There was a worry creeping up on him, pulling his already scattered thoughts in another direction.
Once the blanket was down, Atticus stood up straight. He still needed to get Jimmy a gift. It wasn't a birthday without a present to open. But where was he going to find a gift in time—
Realization struck him. Atticus grinned and climbed aboard Winnie again, urging her toward the castle.
[ FORGOTTEN ORCHIDS ]
Jimmy arrived at the stables exactly one hour after he'd left the gardens. Atticus was already there, a picnic basket in hand, the pain in his ribs beginning to dull after ten minutes of rest. Jimmy smiled at him, and Atticus figured the pain was worth it if he continued to get that look of delight.
"Come on," Atticus said, hooking the basket to Winnie's saddle. "You're taking Horace." At the sound of his name, Horace neighed, shaking out his brown mane.
"Horace," Jimmy repeated. "You named a horse . . . Horace?"
Atticus knit his brows together, not understanding the joke. "No. I don't name the horses, that's Thomas' job."
Jimmy gave him a half-smile, shaking his head. He climbed onto Horace's saddle with ease. Atticus watched him for a moment, distracted, and only looked away when Jimmy looked down at him with raised eyebrows. "Where are we going?"
Atticus willed his blush to disappear, climbing onto Winnie. "Follow me. Don't get lost."
They rode into the woods, taking the well-worn trail. Jimmy made a noise of confusion when Atticus led them off the path, but otherwise didn't protest, leading Horace closely behind Winnie. The sound of the waterfall came first, then the horses broke through the trees and into the clearing. Jimmy's gasp of delight brought a smile to Atticus' face.
Atticus hopped off Winnie and took Horace's reigns from Jimmy, tying both horses to a tree where they were free to graze on the grass for as long as possible. Atticus grabbed the picnic basket before he turned to face Jimmy. He motioned to the blanket laid out behind them, closer to the waterfall, once Jimmy's attention was on him again.
"What's all this for?" Jimmy asked, reaching out to take the basket from Atticus. Always a gentleman.
Atticus held it away from him, smiling. "Your birthday, obviously."
Jimmy's hand dropped to his side as he blinked in surprise. "Did I let that slip?" he asked, looking genuinely confused. "I'm sorry. I didn't come here expecting you to make a big deal about it."
"It's your birthday," Atticus said simply. "If I'd had more notice, the whole kingdom would be having a party."
Jimmy stared at him for a moment, blush beginning to cover his face. Atticus again motioned to the blanket, and they finally sat down.
The kitchen had packed a variety of sandwiches, none of them fish-themed, and a few snacks to go with it. The cake was chocolate, covered in vanilla icing and little fish sprinkles; somehow, the cook had known the cake was for Jimmy. Jimmy laughed when he saw the sprinkles, then pouted when Atticus told him the cake would be eaten after the food was.
"You know, it's my birthday. That means I should get what I want," he said, tilting his chin up.
Atticus raised his eyebrows. "Best for last," he said, handing Jimmy a sandwich.
The waterfall filled the silence as they ate, though Atticus knew that they would have to talk eventually. That's what Jimmy had come here for originally, after all—the birthday picnic was just a nice surprise.
Atticus ate slowly, taking slow, quiet breaths through each bite. Sitting like this was hurting his chest, but he felt like laying down would only serve to worry Jimmy. Besides, he couldn't eat while lying down; he doubted Jimmy would know what to do in the event that he started choking, and dying because of a sandwich seemed like an embarrassing way to go.
"I'm sorry for yelling at you," Jimmy finally said, putting his half-eaten sandwich down. "And the letter."
The letter. The one Atticus still hadn't read.
"I shouldn't have pushed," Atticus told him. "You have nothing to apologize for."
Jimmy sighed, staring at the waterfall. His eyes seemed to reflect the water, changing from their normal blue to a brighter, clearer azure. It was enchanting—maybe, Atticus thought, there was magic in his blood.
"I don't feel comfortable in my own skin," Jimmy said softly. He frowned; Atticus wanted him to smile again. "The thought of wearing form-fitting clothes scares me. I'm working on it, but . . . for a while, I was considering not going to the masquerade. Not when I'd have to be uncomfortable."
"You don't have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable," Atticus murmured. "I'm sorry."
Jimmy shook his head. "When you assumed it was a money problem, that's why I got upset. So many people think the Cod Empire is doing poorly, but it isn't. I could pay for new clothes, proper ones. But that's just not who I am."
Atticus put a hand on Jimmy's arm, drawing his attention away from the waterfall. Jimmy smiled as soon as he looked at Atticus, a genuine grin that sent sparks through Atticus' blood. Magic. It had to be. If it wasn't, then Atticus was in too deep.
"I'm sorry for assuming," he said, having to choke out the words. He hadn't been alone with Jimmy in so long that it was hard to concentrate.
Jimmy didn't pull away from Atticus as he spoke, letting them have that closeness for a little longer. "I reached out to Lady Niki to be fitted. I supposed that if both you and Scott are saying something, I should listen. You're the smartest people I know," he said casually, as if the very words weren't making Atticus feel dizzy.
"You know Lizzie," he said, just to speak.
Jimmy snorted. "She married Joel."
Atticus laughed. The two relaxed, the air around them cleared. Even having assured Jimmy that he didn't have to do the fitting if he didn't want to, Atticus was quietly looking forward to what Niki put him in. Her designs were beautiful, meant to compliment the wearer. He could only imagine what Jimmy was going to look like.
Atticus pulled his hand away from Jimmy, ignoring the confused and disappointed look sent his way. He pulled one final item from the basket, an object wrapped in silk cloth the color of the Cod Empire's flag. "Here," he said, pressing the item into Jimmy's hands. "Happy birthday."
The pendant was two-sided: on one side, the outline of the Cod Empire was depicted; on the other, Vulpesterra. The details were fine, despite the small size of the pendent. Months of work on one simple necklace. Jimmy looked up from the golden image of the Cod Empire to meet Atticus' eyes, stuck not knowing what to say.
"I had it made after proposing our alliance," Atticus told him. "When you asked why I would want to ally myself with the weakest empire. I wanted to show you that I was serious about my offer." He gave Jimmy a nervous smile. "I thought it would come across as strange to give it to you, after it was done. But we're friends. You're supposed to accept my strangeness."
Jimmy returned Atticus' smile tenfold, running his thumb over the pendant. "I love it," he said, not a hint of a lie in his voice. He put it on, letting the side depicting Vulpesterra rest over his chest. "Thank you, Atticus."
He was still wearing that beautiful smile, eyes reflecting the blue of the waterfall. Maybe he wasn't magic—maybe Atticus was just in—
No. Because he couldn't be. He was to be married in a year. Any possibility of Jimmy being his had disappeared the moment he'd signed the Council's contract.
Jimmy had to know. Atticus had to tell him. He couldn't let Jimmy live with this false hope of them being the next Lizzie and Joel. In a year, Atticus will be forced into a loveless marriage, and Jimmy will have to move on to someone else. Someone better.
Atticus knew Jimmy saw the change in his expression, because worry returned to his eyes, the same worry he'd looked at Atticus with an hour ago. Atticus wished they could go back to that moment, or even just seconds before, when he wasn't reminded that his life had been written out for him now.
Jimmy didn't push. Unlike Atticus, he knew when to stop.