Page 50 of Those Fatal Flowers

“Don’t be silly,” Will says with a grin, wrapping an arm around his sister’s shoulder and pointing a finger at me. “Agnes won’t begin without our guest of honor.”

I laugh bitterly. “I’m not so sure.”

Cora reads something on my face, and her brows crinkle with concern. “Are you having a good time?”

“Of course—are you?”

Her eyes wander past us to the snowy village, and she nods, a curious expression settling over her features.

“Will, would you check if Agnes started without us?” I ask. “I don’t want to miss a slice of Margery’s apple pie.”

Will accepts with a nod, and then it’s just Cora and me left in the falling snow.

“He’s been really happy these past few weeks,” she says, lifting her head to look at the sky. Tonight, Luna is nestled behind snow clouds, but Cora’s skin reflects the meetinghouse’s light as if she’s a moon herself.

“He’s a good man,” I concede. “I haven’t met many of those.”

“I think he’s in love with you.”

A surprised laugh escapes my throat. “In love with me? Cora, don’t be silly—we barely know each other!”

“All right, fine, I think he’s starting to fall in love with you. Is that better?”

“I don’t know, Cora…”

“What about you? Are you falling in love with him, too?”

My eyes snap back to hers. “What? I— Why are you asking me this?”

“It’s a rare thing for a husband and wife to love each other,” she says slowly, and there’s a glorious moment when hope blossoms in my heart before she crushes it in her hands. “I’m just hopeful you’ll both be as lucky as I am.”

Her words are like a slap in the face, and I turn away from her sharply, searching for a reply that might cut her as much as she’s cut me. “I think I might be.”

Her shoulders curl forward in my peripheral vision, a flower wilting. “Do you remember when you told me that he looks like someone you once loved?”

The question draws my focus back to her. A snowflake lands on her bottom lip, and another one catches on her eyelashes. My fingers twitch at my sides to brush them away, longing to feel her softness beneath them.

“Yes.”

“Is that why you’re holding back? Are you still in love with him?”

The emotion that washes over me has no name: sorrow at the loss of Proserpina and what will never be; joy at the thought of the moon reflected in her eyes, of the way her skin tasted on my lips. Guilt rises like bile into the back of my throat, and my arms snake around my stomach to steady myself.

“I’ll always love her.”

When I meet her gaze once more, those lovely emerald eyes are wide with shock, no doubt thinking of the laws pinned just behind us and their consequences—upon pain of death.Yet Cora doesn’t appear disgusted or frightened, only surprised that I dare to admit it.

I smile weakly. “We were only girls. She was my closest friend.”

“What happened to her?”

“What always happens. She married a man far too old for her, in a realm too far away to visit. Fate, some said. I don’t know what became of her after that.”

And I won’t until I die, when the gods grant my ravaged heart an answer.

“Is she the only person you’ve ever loved?” The question is spoken so softly that I barely hear it before it’s swallowed by the snow. Cora blinks the snowflake from her lashes. The other still graces her lip, and my entire world contracts until the City of Raleigh falls away. It’s just me, Cora, and that glittering crystal. I can’t help myself—I reach out to brush it away with my thumb, and when I touch her, every part of my body sings.

“No.” The answer leaves my mouth without my mind’s approval, and my heart twists at hearing it spoken out loud. But it’s the truth, isn’t it? Cora’s eyes flick between my thumb and my stare. Her chest rises and falls with quickening breaths. Hope can be the sweetest ache when you believe you’re on the cusp of attainment, but how quickly it darkens into misery once dashed.

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