Page 190 of Once Upon a Fable

I needed...

There was something important...

The garden!

Shoving off the banister, I tripped and stumbled the entire distance from the house to the veggie patch outside. I ignored the mess in the kitchen. Of pots used but not washed. Of knives waiting on benchtops and not in their usual home. Of crumbs—goddamn crumbs, on my pristine floor.

I didn’t let the swelling in my head overflow with anger. In keeping with her character, she’d messed up my church of cleanliness. Everything of mine she touched, she destroyed.

My heart lurched, and I fell out of the doorway, almost collapsing to my knees in the chef’s garden.

It was a massacre. A fucking massacre.

Earth lay scattered along my carefully tended pathways. Holes in the corn crop, the lettuce patch, the bean lattice—holes everywhere where mature vegetables used to be, waiting for harvest, their destiny to be jarred, dried, or frozen in preparation for months when nothing grew.

Christ!

I bashed against the wall as my balance threw me sideways.

“Please, you really need to sit down.” She wrung her fingers, coming into my eyeline. “Your head is killing you. You can barely stand. You’re gray and sweaty. You should be back in bed, resting, not...” Wafting herhand around the veggie patches, she scoffed—actually had the goddamn nerve to scoff. “Not dragging me outside for a cultivation lesson.”

I smiled, thinly, nastily. “Oh, this isn’t a cultivation lesson.”

“Then what is it?” She sniffed, her eyes going harsh.

“I had to see for myself what damage you’ve caused.”

“That damage kept you alive.”

“Did you have to pick so much?”

“Forgive me if I wanted to feed you as much as possible. Healing requires energy!”

“You’re a menace. And a goddamn fool.”

Her chest rose sharply. “If I’m a fool, then you’re an idiot.”

“An idiot who knows the struggles of blizzards and snow and knows you can’t just pluck food from the damn sky.”

She’d never suffered hunger. Never panicked over rations. Never learned the hard way on how to survive.

But I have.

I knew what starvation made a human become.

I know—

“So just plant more.” She huffed, crossing her arms.

“Oh, I’m sorry. How stupid of me.” I shook away the wash of sickness and vertigo. “Maybe tell the sun to stick around for another season then because whatever seeds you plant now won’t have time to hit maturity before the frosts arrive.”

“Well...I’m sure something can be done.”

I winced as I surveyed the mess she’d made. She’d used at least a month more than she should’ve. My head screamed in agony at all the work, the labor, and the tending that went into this. Not to mention the rationing on my dwindling seed packets. In my current condition, no fucking way could I replant.

“You’ll help me,” I snarled. “You’ll repay me for every crop you stole.”

“I didn’t steal them. I was providing for you!”