The Tenth Garden: A Bonus StoryGareth, surrounded by and awash with roses, leaned in to breathe the scent of one: ruffled, wild, dusty pink with gilded streaks. The Tenth Garden unfolded all around him, drenching the world in color and light. Everywhere he looked he found a new astonishing sight: a curve of slim bridge, a leap of orchids, a spray of peonies, a skip of pebbled path.
He’d rolled up both sleeves and undone shirt-buttons under the honeyed afternoon sun. Lorre had said Kiersk could be chilly but not as cold as people thought, at least not in the southern regions where the last surviving Memorial Garden still bloomed. Gareth had pointed out that, being raised in the Mountain Marches, his definition of cold was likely not the same as most, but had brought some warmer clothing an
