“I say you aren’t going,” she said, a cord of iron laced through her voice.

“Mind your place, woman,” he said. A hint of pleading ruined his tough-guy stance.

“I am.” Her tone was severe. “You’re still broken. What I say goes. That’s our law.”

Jenks gestured plaintively. “I’m fine. I can fly. I can fight. I’m going.”

“You aren’t. You can’t. You’re not. And until I say, you’re a gardener, not a runner.”

“I can fly!” he exclaimed, his wings blurring into motion. He lifted a mere fingerbreadth off the counter and back down. “You just don’t want me to go.”

She stiffened. “I’ll not have it said you were killed because of my failings. Keeping you alive is my responsibility, and I say you’re broken!”

I fed Mr. Fish a crushed flake. This was embarrassing. If it had been up to me, I’d let Jenks go, flightless or not. He was recovering faster than I would have believed possible. Still, it had been less than ten hours since he was spouting poetry. I looked at Mrs. Jenks with an inquiring arch to my eyebrows. The pretty pixy woman shook her head. That was it, then.

“Jenks,” I said. “I’m sorry, but until you have the green, you’re garden-bound.”

He took three steps, stopping at the edge of the counter. His fists clenched.

Uncomfortable, I joined Ivy at the table. “So,” I said awkwardly. “You said you have an idea of how I can get in?”

Ivy took the end of the pen out from between her teeth. “I did some research this morning on the net—”

“You mean after I went back to bed?” I interrupted.

She looked up at me with her unreadable brown eyes. “Yes.” Turning away, she rifled through her maps, pulling out a colored brochure. “Here, I printed this out.”

I sat down as I took it. She had not only printed it out, but had folded it into the usual brochure folds. The colorful pamphlet was an advertisement for guided tours of the Kalamack botanical gardens. “‘Come stroll among the spectacular private gardens of Councilman Trenton Kalamack,’” I read aloud. “‘Call ahead for ticket prices and availability. Closed on the full moon for maintenance.’” There was more, but I had my way in.

“I’ve got another one for the stables,” Ivy said. “They run tours all year, except for spring, when the foals are born.”

“How considerate.” I ran a finger over the crayon-bright sketch of the grounds. I had no idea Trent was interested in gardening. Maybe he was a witch. There was a loud, very obvious whine as Jenks flew the short distance to the table. He could fly, but barely.

“This is fantastic,” I said, ignoring the belligerent pixy as he walked over the paper and into my line of sight. “I was planning on you dropping me off somewhere in the woods so I could hike my way in, but this is great. Thanks.”

Ivy gave me an honest, closed-lipped smile. “A little research can save a lot of time.”