Page 22 of Grave Flowers
Sindony nodded sympathetically, eyes wide as though she could think of nothing more humiliating than fainting in front of everyone.
With any luck, she and the other girls would tell others so word would spread through court.
“Hopefully I won’t faint at the betrothal ceremony.”
Giggles tittered through the girls.
Good.
“After the betrothal ceremony, I think I should have some time outside,” I said. “It’ll help me adjust to the weather. Perhaps a trip to the garden would be best.”
“The garden is magnificent,” Sindony said. “You’ll enjoy it, Your Highness.”
“Wonderful. I’ll look forward to seeing it. And the rest of the palace, including the queen’s quarters once they aren’t cordoned off. I’ll need a tour. I hear there’s a library, a solarium, and a theater. I’d like to see everything.”
“You can, but …”
“But what?”
“Prince Aeric is planning a play, so the theater has been quite busy. It’s an original script. He’s written it himself.” Excitement danced across her face. I smiled back at her, hiding my confusion. A play? Of all the childish pursuits … wine and plays. What next? An exotic pet? Aeric’s life was built on decadence, but it couldn’t hide his true crime:
Allowing his rule to rot before it had even begun.
Still, it would be good to know everything I could about Aeric’s actions, especially as he was writing the play himself.
“What is the play about?” I asked.
“It’s a retelling of the Primeval Family creating our world,” Sindony said. She paused and giggled. “It isn’t very good.”
“I see. Thank you.” Only, there was nothing to see or learn. The Primeval Family fashioning our firmament out of a bursting star was one of the most common myths depicted in plays. Did Aeric really think he had a fresh interpretation?
“Oh, it’s time!” Sindony exclaimed. “You’re off to see your beloved!”
I suppressed a grimace.
My beloved? More like my idiot.
Acus’s cathedral was staggeringly beautiful. I stood in the narthex, waiting to walk down the aisle to where Aeric stood at the altar with the monasticte.
I peered into the nave. It was my first time experiencing the giftings of the four kingdoms used in a service as they had been intended. Flowers, representing Radix, were arranged in ribboned boughs around embroidered panels. Round ovals painted by imagers in Pingere whose hands had been specially blessed by monastictes hung at intervals on the panels. They featured scenes of the Primeval Family in their celestial court. Sacred silver vessels from Crus—aggressively flashing in the light, which was fitting for our militant neighbor—were arranged carefully on the altar. Monastictes wore vestments indicative of the liturgical calendar, green for the springtide during which the Mother and Daughter cast petals to the earth, and embroidered black ribbons in reference to the holy mourning. Every aspect was perfectly executed. No wonder everyone found Acus so pretentious. All our monastictes cared about was the alcohol content of the brews they drank from the sacred vessels and the euphoric effects of inhaling incense.
The choir began to sing. As Inessa had said, it was the same song we had in Radix, though the choir was much larger, in tune, and much more varied and emotional with the inflections. However, just as in Radix, there were no instruments, only human voices soaring up to the vaulted cathedral ceiling. Without any prompting, I knew when to start walking down to the altar. Adjusting the red veil, I proceeded.
It had been difficult to see Aeric from the narthex, and for a few moments, I still couldn’t. On either side of me, guests stood in rows, watching. In our cathedral, Father had installed benches for the royalfamily and nobles, but there wasn’t a single seat here. Everyone was on their feet. I knew why Father had gone against tradition. If someone wished, they could attack with ease right now, and I wouldn’t be able to anticipate it.
Aeric waited. He was in formal attire, but since it was Acusan clothing, it was still largely insubstantial. The armholes dipped low on the sides, exposing the outline of his ribs. A cape angled across his chest to his shoulder, and a sword was at his waist. Just as I stared at him, he stared at me. I realized I needed to smile. To disarm him and appear like his beguiling bride.
He smiled first.
The same laziness from the party swam through it, as though he were nothing more than a boy in a tavern seeing a pretty girl from afar. Since he was smiling, I felt like he had stolen it from my usage and I no longer could utilize the tactic. Reflexively, it made me wish to frown, but that also wouldn’t do, so I tried to drain my features of any emotion and simply appear blank.
I found myself winded. Granted, the aisle was long, but it wasn’t exertion that stole my breath. It was the simple weight of everything, of trying to hold too many things at the same time—my haunting by Inessa, the impending marriage to and then murder of Aeric, the freedom of Radix and my future as queen regnant—and not knowing when I might set any of them aside. Atop it all was Aeric’s lazy smile coming closer with every step, an image of light carefreeness that made me feel cast from the heaviest of metals by contrast.
I reached the end and tore my gaze from Aeric’s stupid face. Swirls of smoke billowed around me as I was censed, and the monasticte, who clearly enjoyed the sound of his own voice, began a lengthy, drawn-out rendition of the betrothal service. I stood still, seeing and hearing nothing yet feeling so much that I thought I might combust.
Coldness touched my hand. I jumped, certain it was Inessa. Panicked dread sent my heart lurching up into my throat. But it was Aeric. Hisfingers gently brushed the back of my hand, crossing the bony ridges of my knuckles. I found myself drawn into the light of his eyes. Every bit of him was loose and relaxed, as though his body longed to lounge against a wall. His eyelids hung indolently—almost sleepily—low … but behind them, his eyes were bright, alert, reflections of the infernal sunshine soaking into every nook and cranny in Acus. I snatched my hand away from him, my heart pounding, though I wasn’t certain why.
The monasticte cleared his throat and glowered at me.
