When she doesn't need to do magic to her plants every single day to get and keep them producing at a rate sufficient to sustain her, she goes to the library and tells them things about the continent she came from in exchange for a half-century's membership. She brings home books. She makes paper to take notes on.
She doesn't have any near neighbors, but she has distant ones, and she trades foreign seeds and candied dewdrops for glass and books. She drinks her stream and writes her thoughts (a lot of her thoughts are about Arcane). She decompresses. She reads and thinks.
Time goes by. It's dark at night; sometimes she watches the stars.
He starts marking down kinds and magics in the Red Flight (Canvas - marigold calyx - sees heat; Triumph - silkpuff - sleeps 24 hours once a year) and the Diamond Nine (Prism - flamewreath - control fire at a touch; Signature - inkvein - acute hearing).
Promise makes stars next to ones that could be inconvenient and leaves unmarked things like the silkpuff that she thinks are unlikely to interact with anything they do.
This seems like a sensible practice.
Eventually it is late. Promise is on a sleep cycle concordant with the forest's night; she flutters up to bed and utters nouns.
Arcane stays up a little later, filling out the chart with more details and starting on Queenspalace maps with traps and harmonics included; then he occupies the guest room in a noun-free fashion.
She makes enough breakfast for three in case Secret's already on her way.
Secret looks... like somebody who has been sleeping on a forest floor and eating only intermittently for several years.
"Hi, Secret. Are you okay? Here, breakfast."
She sits down to consume breakfast.
He peers at Secret.
"Secret, Arcane. Arcane, Secret."
Arcane... looks concerned.
"Hi," yawns Secret.
"Secret, have you been eating anything besides what I've left with my notes?"
"...maybe," she says. "I don't remember."
"At a guess, no," says Arcane.
"I would've left food more often if I'd known you weren't going to forage."
"'Sok," mumbles Secret.
Promise gets her some extra food.
"But anyway, you don't have to go out by yourself in the forest anymore if you don't care to, Arcane ate the haws and I've got him out from under the Queen for the moment and now if he tells you his name it'll be de facto."
"I might wait until you are finished your breakfast," says Arcane.
Promise snorts and goes back to her own. (It is a grainy porridge with fruit in it.)
It is a tasty breakfast.