Page 59 of Those Fatal Flowers

The question catches me by surprise, momentarily seizing my tongue and, with it, my ability to speak, as images of his sacrifice swirl before me. I can so clearly picture his dazed expression in the flickering light of the ritual cave’s fire, his wrists clamped in the irons, his artery throbbing in that muscular throat—but now that I know him, would I still be able to draw a blade across it? Would I still be able to step over his entrails to spill the last of his life onto the floor of the cave?

“Be glad you’ll never find out.”

“God knows how I’ll explain what I’ve seen these past months should I survive this ordeal.”

I smile weakly and retreat from his touch. “How much work is left?”

“I still need to add the mast, the boom, and the yard, but the construction should be done within the next few days.”

“The next dark moon is in five days,” I think out loud. “That’s when you should go. It’ll be the safest then. Is that enough time for you to gather supplies?”

“Yes, it should be plenty, especially if you bring more fruits.” Jaquob winks. Scopuli hasn’t withheld her bounty from him, and he insists on catching his own game, which is for the best. Raidne and Pisinoe would notice if a large quantity of the salted meat went missing.

My eyes wander up to check the time. A waning crescent punched out of the black fabric of the night hangs overhead. It casts little light, which brings me comfort. The billowing smoke from the bonfire would only be visible from the hovelwith the light of a full moon, and we are mere days from its exact opposite.

I catch Jaquob watching me as he tosses another piece of driftwood onto the blaze before bringing a bottle of liquor to his lips. The fire crackles greedily to consume the new fuel, but he’s too lost in the sight of me to notice. He stares at me often: sometimes with a mixture of wonder and fear, and other times with confusion, as if he can’t decide if what stands before him is real. Right now his expression is leaning toward the latter, his brows furrowed so deeply it looks like the two black lines might connect across the bridge of his crooked nose.

“What is it?” I ask, arms drifting across my chest defensively.

“You barely speak, you know. Unless I speak to you first.”

I sigh. “I’ve already told you—”

“I know, I know. We’re not friends.”

Hearing my own words tossed back at me makes me bristle. “Yes, but also…It’s been a long time since I’ve met anyone new, and most of what my sisters and I communicate to each other can be said with little words.”

“There, something I can work with!” Jaquob offers me the liquor, and I shake my head. “Tell me about the last new person that you met.”

Those first sailors appear in my mind, their teeth stained black with wine, and behind them, Dis. His eyes are so dark that I can barely make out his pupils, smoldering with such intensity that I can’t decide whether to look away in terror or let them set me ablaze. I can still feel the heat of his breath on the side of my face as he whispered in my ear, his fingernails digging into the supple flesh of my young arms, his coarse black beard tickling my cheek.

“I can’t remember,” I say after a time, though my shakingvoice betrays my lie. But Jaquob doesn’t press me further. It’s a little after midnight. I feel myself growing restless, eager for the comfort of my pallet. My sisters notice my mood swings. They don’t question me yet, but how much longer can I expect them to leave me be?

He senses my nerves and chuckles softly. “I’m only here a few more days, and yet you’re still desperate to return to them. You’ll be thrilled once I’m officially gone.”

I’ll be thrilled once she speaks to me again, but that isn’t what he wants to hear. “I’ll miss the excitement you’ve brought. It’ll be strange to not wonder what you’re doing during the day, to not sneak out to see you at night.”

“Does that mean you’ll miss me?” He grins so wide, I can’t help but laugh softly in return. “It looks like I did manage to win you over.”

“I suppose you did, Jaquob.”

The concession placates him, and he shakes his head toward the east. “Well, then. You’d best be off. I wouldn’t want your sisters to come searching for you.”

I embrace him in goodbye, taking note of the way he lets his hands linger on my body. It makes me ache with desire, but not for him.

Where are you, Proserpina? Why don’t you answer me?

When I pull away, his smile falls; his eyes cloud with disappointment. I cup his face with my palm and then turn toward the trees with a gentle smile.

He doesn’t ask me to stay.

I’ve barely left the glow of his bonfire when rustling disturbs the path ahead. The noise is too loud to belong to some timid mouse or bewildered songbird navigating through the barren beach plum branches. Before I can retreat and warn Jaquobto hide, Pisinoe emerges from the darkness, wearing no jewels. When she finds me, she stops and rests her hands on her hips. Her pose is more than accusatory; it’s hostile.

“Oh—!” I stammer, trying to buy time that I know I don’t have. My strange behavior the past few months has finally come to a head. This fact is etched in the severe angles of Pisinoe’s frown; it’s been centuries since I’ve seen her this upset. “What are you doing here?”

She doesn’t take the bait.

“What’s going on, Thelxiope?” she asks, her tone saying for her what her words don’t:Do not lie to me.

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