"That's called betony," Daine says, dropping into a crouch beside him and gently touching her fingertip to its stem. "At least, that's what we call it in my realm. We used to grow this--" she hesitates, not wanting to say on our farm, and a faint tickle in her throat holds her up for another beat before she concludes, more vaguely, "back home." She sniffs once, absently, as if to goad that near-sneeze into happening. The urge has passed, though.

"Good for headaches," she adds with a little smile. "And nerves."