Page 23 of Grave Flowers
It was the point in the ceremony for me and Aeric to take each other’s hands. Aeric had been trying to prompt me, nothing else. Both his hands extended, waiting. His lackadaisical posture made it seem as though he didn’t care whether I took them or not, even in the middle of the sacred ceremony.
Slowly, I put my hands into his.
I expected Aeric’s hands to be soft. Everything about him was so hedonistically lighthearted, as though he were made from feathers and sparkling wine. To my surprise, his hands were startlingly rough. Calluses formed edges on his palms, and several small slashing scars crisscrossed them. His grip was light, but the scars were rough against my skin. I could understand the calluses because even though Aeric had been raised in the monasterium, Father had said he’d been instructed as a prince. His hands had likely been hewn into hardness by fencing, hunting, archery, and horseback riding. However, I wasn’t certain what would’ve caused so many scars.
Curiosity dragged my gaze back to his face, wondering who might’ve hurt him in such a way. Such tiny, precise scars could be caused only by another human. Sunlight fell on his face, and I could see him clearly, every plane of his features illumined like a holy painting from Pingere.
Primeval pestilence, he was wine ill.
Beneath the informal smile, his face had a grayish pallor, and he swallowed with great determination. Sweat beaded his forehead in translucent drops. Last night’s party wafted from him, a bouquet ofstale wine and hints of earthy pipe smoke, hidden beneath bay leaf soap and freshly applied cologne. Perversely, I liked the scent. It served only to make me more infuriated. I almost dropped his hands, sympathy gone. Truly, everything was a game to him. How had I not murdered him last night?
For the rest of the service, I refused to look at him again. Why should I? He wasn’t worthy of my attention. Real threats, real monarchs, real power—those alone deserved my focus, not this ridiculous prince who was wrung out on wine. Perhaps I should’ve been relieved. I didn’t relish the thought of murdering anyone, but it would be easier to kill him if I didn’t respect him. And I certainly didn’t.
The service concluded. Most of the attendees were quickly ushered out of the cathedral. Aeric, now officially my betrothed, ambled off without a word to me, most likely to vomit behind a pillar.
I noticed Queen Gertrude and Prince Lambert across the way. They’d observed the ceremony from the royal alcove but were now speaking to two nobles. I slipped behind a chamber intended for holy admittance to listen, fervently hoping I might learn something to help me free Inessa.
“A happy day!” one of the nobles said. “Much happiness to you, Queen Gertrude and Prince Lambert, over the betrothal of our prince.”
“He seems to be a happy boy today,” Prince Lambert said, his tone light.A happy boy.I’d never heard a reigning monarch referred to in such a rude way … but then, I had to admit I shared the inclination. One of the nobles made a sound of dismay. “Oh, it’s only a jest, Duke Cheston. All young men are happy when they have an endless supply of wine and parties to drink it at. Don’t you agree, Lord Luc?”
“I do. It makes me wonder if Prince Aeric can reach his potential fast enough,” Lord Luc said, his head inclining toward Prince Lambert as though he were a puppy hoping for a pat. His deference made me think Prince Lambert and Queen Gertrude had already swayed him to their side. “We are, after all, the most powerful kingdom. If he were themonarch of one of the tiny, barnacle-like kingdoms that cling to our great hull, it would be different. But we maintain the stability of the whole continent.”
“You speak of improper things! And in front of the queen consort,” Duke Cheston sputtered. Apparently, they hadn’t gotten to everyone. “King Claudius spent much time raising the boy for this precise moment.”
“I am not so sensitive,” Queen Gertrude said smoothly. She wore a dark gold dress. The hue contrasted with the bright, shiny gold pendant she always wore. Idly, she stroked it. “There’s no need to pretend my son has been anything other than drunk lately.”
“Oh, I’m certain Prince Aeric will surprise us all.” Duke Cheston failed to understand her cues and rushed to comfort her. “Worry not about it, my queen. You only just endured the shock of losing your husband and have been a paragon of strength for our kingdom since then.”
“I’ve had to be stronger for longer than you realize, Duke Cheston.” Queen Gertrude’s voice was sweet, yet her words were not. “I lost many before him. Anyways, if you don’t mind, I’m tired.”
Lord Luc and Duke Cheston said their goodbyes, leaving Queen Gertrude and Prince Lambert alone. I watched closely. As soon as they were gone, Prince Lambert excitedly turned to her. “You’re tired?”
“No.” Queen Gertrude’s response was swift and severe. “I know what that feels like, and this is not it. Now let’s depart.”
A hand touched my elbow. It was a monasticte. He drew me away.
“Dare I ask if you’d like to partake in the cup?” the monasticte asked. He frowned disapprovingly at me, as though he knew I’d done something improper. “I know the tradition isn’t observed in Radix.”
He was right. After betrothal ceremonies, couples were supposed to share a single cup of wine to show they would hold everything in common, the good and the bad. We’d long abandoned the practice in Radix, but Acus, being Acus, seemed to still follow it. I thought for amoment. It would give me time alone with Prince Aeric. He was another person who’d known Inessa during her last days.
“Of course we do,” I said.
“The other one said you didn’t.”
“The other one?” With a start, I realized Inessa must’ve declined the ritual. I wasn’t surprised. If something didn’t benefit her, she refused to do it for artifice’s sake. “Well, we … sometimes do and sometimes don’t. Regardless, I would like to. Please, lead the way.”
The monasticte huffed and motioned for me to follow him. I did, my thoughts turning back to Queen Gertrude and Prince Lambert. He’d been excited that she was tired, and she’d quickly dispelled his enthusiasm. It could only be one thing. They were attempting to make a new heir as soon as possible, one to replace Aeric and end King Claudius’s line forever.
I was so lost in thought that I was startled when the monasticte harrumphed at me, indicating I’d reached my destination, which was a small room. Woven tapestries hung from display dowels. One was so big that it practically created a partition. It depicted the Family, each member holding one of the giftings. The Daughter held a demure grave flower as she stared upward with holy aplomb.
The monasticte left, and I paused at the threshold. Inessa had been through the betrothal service with Aeric while wearing the exact same dress. But she hadn’t participated in the ritual. As meaningless as it was, something was finally mine and mine alone.
I entered.
Aeric rose from a stool, holding a bottle of wine. How surprising. He addressed me. “My love—er.” He stumbled to a stop as I stared at him without any amusement. “My … betrothed? My princess? What do you prefer?”
“I prefer you don’t use ‘my,’” I said to my wine-ill betrothed.
