Page 76 of Those Fatal Flowers

Cora curtsies slightly in deference and hands Sybil a pouch of coins. The old woman slips the gold into her skirts. Payment for my treatment, though what use Sybil has for it is beyond me. With the transaction complete, Cora exits the cottage. I linger in the door for a moment, considering my words carefully before speaking.

“I can’t leave until spring comes,” I say slowly. The faintest flicker of a smile threatens to crack across Sybil’s face.

“I have a feeling the weather will turn around soon enough,” the crone says, her gray eyes glimmering.

A grin overtakes my lips, and I nod as something catches my eye. There, a few paces away from the front door, is a little plot of freshly disturbed earth. Sybil has placed a flower on top as a marker. It’s a lily, though it’s far too early for them to bloom. And yet Sybil found one anyway. My chest tightens—it’s all right to love him,Will said, and seeing Proserpina’s flower here makes me believe him. Believe both of them.

Cora sidles up beside me, slipping her arm around my waist as I say goodbye. We stand together like that for quite some time until I finally pull back from her touch to meet her gaze. Her hand finds mine, and then she’s leading me back through the woods.

It takes us nearly an hour to return to the colony’s boundaries. The walk is mostly through forest, although every so often a break in the trees reveals a hidden marsh or a glimpse of the sea. The trip is calm and quiet, and over far too soon. The southern wall welcomes us back, and then there’s nothing to do except part ways for our respective homes. She embraces me.

“I’m glad you’re all right.”

A loud sound rolls over the tops of the houses. Cora releases me, face crinkled with worry, and I hold a finger to my lips to quiet her. At first, it’s hard to place what exactly the noise is. My mind races to name it, but it’s not a singular sound at all. It’s countless voices all roaring discordantly: a mob.

Color drains from Cora’s face until it matches the shade of the snow that still covers the ground.

“Something’s happening.” Her voice quivers, and she grabs ahold of my hand. My palm grows clammy in her grasp, and nausea blooms in my stomach. Have I somehow been discovered? The sound of jeering leads us to the center of the village, where a large crowd gathers before the meetinghouse. Neither of us speaks as we push our way through the throng of people, trying to get a better look at what all the commotion is about.

There, locked in the pillory, is Margery. Her face is crimson with tears, and she sobs hysterically. Emme holds Jeremie a few feet away from her. He’s just as inconsolable, screaming and tearing at Emme’s arms, leaving red scratches in his wake. Emme tries to calm the child, but he can’t be soothed—his hands remain outstretched for his mother, and she calls for him in return. My mouth falls open in shock, and Cora gasps. Thomas is holding up the lapis lazuli necklace that I gave Margery for Christmas. The gem spins in loose circles on its golden chain, as if to enchant the crowd. A hand on my shoulder startles me, and I nearly scream, but Wenefridshhhsto calm me.

“What’s going on?” My voice betrays my fear for Margery.

“Mistress Bailie discovered her with that necklace—” Wenefrid begins, but she’s interrupted by Agnes, who stands before Margery with wild eyes.

“How dare you steal from our house after my husband showed you such incredible kindness?” Mistress Bailie shrieks, and moves to slap Margery across the face. Margery, with her head and hands locked in the wooden restraining device, turns as much as she can to dodge the blow, but there’s nowhere for her to hide. The slap connects with her cheek with a sickeningcrack,and the crowd erupts. The villagers have grown restless over the long harsh winter, and the strike stirs them into a frenzy. One man shakes his fist at Margery. Lewes, the teen who was the first to try for my hand a few months ago, calls her a whore. Even Master Sampson, the man responsible for reminding us of God’s mercy, doesn’t speak in Margery’s defense. Alarm takes root in my stomach as the crowd grows more restless. Is theft also punishable by death?

“I didn’t steal it, mistress!”

“You dare to lie to me? My son holds the evidence in his hand!” Agnes spits down at the girl. Wenefrid grimaces as Mistress Bailie raises her hand again, and the crowd goes wild. Margery’s face falls toward the ground, a large red splotch already forming on her cheek from the first slap. A thin line of blood traces its way from beside her right eye to the corner of her lip, and I realize with startling ferocity that one of Agnes’s rings cut her.

“Enough!” I scream. Cora and Wenefrid watch me wide-eyed as I push forward through the warm bodies to emerge before the pillory. Mistress Bailie looks shocked at my interruption; she’s not a woman used to being told no.

Agnes’s surprise lasts only a moment before a look of steely conviction settles back across her face. “Enough?” Mistress Bailie laughs coldly. “Who do you think you are, telling us ‘enough’?”

“I’m the princess of the land your son seeks to inherit, andthat necklace was a gift from me, as you know. Release her at once!”

“I will do no such thing,” Agnes replies, her voice alarmingly calm. “You are my son’s betrothed, so the dowry belongs to him. Therefore, the necklace wasn’t yours to give.”

“How dare you?” I growl, my eyes turning into slits. “You can’t do this—”

“If the story you told us is true, my son is to be king of Scopuli. Do you deny this?”

“No—”

“Then you have no power here.”

“That’s not—”

“Put your betrothed in her place, Thomas.”

Before I can comment on how pathetic it is that he requires such instruction from his mother, Thomas inserts himself between Margery and me. He puffs his chest outward in a grotesque display that makes my hands curl into fists. “Silence, woman, or you’ll find yourself in the pillory in her stead.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Hugh, Charles.” Thomas snaps his fingers at two men in the crowd behind me, who jump at the sound. Dogs. They’re no better than dogs.“Release Mistress Harvie. We have a new bitch that needs to be punished.”

It all happens so quickly: Hugh and Charles grab ahold of my arms so forcefully that bruises will flower beneath their fingers, and they pull me onto the platform. The crowd becomes a blur of screaming faces. Suddenly, I’m a child again, being dragged from Ceres’s throne room. Agnes unlocks the top of the pillory and lifts it off Margery’s neck and hands. She stumbles backward out of the device, stunned, and Emme rushes forward with Jeremie to catch her.

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