Page 30 of Grave Flowers
“They do,” I said, my heart leaping at the sight of the starvelings. “If you plant any, they bud overnight.”
Yorick eyed the starvelings dubiously and ducked as one of them slashed at him. “Are all grave flowers this … terrifying?”
“Yes,” I breathed, finally happy. The starvelings were of me, and I was of them, like air and water, the two forever converting back and forth. I imagined this was what it felt like to run into an old friend on the street and to see your childhood reflected in their smile. Cautiously, I held out a hand. “Hello, dear ones.”
Would they know me? These had been planted from seeds, which meant they’d never known life in their natural habitat. Already, I could see different characteristics resulting from too much sun and fresh water. Their thorns weren’t as curved as they should be, and their tips were dry. Their blossoms were practically nonexistent, and they moved close to the soil, unable to lift much higher. Poor things. I wondered what I might be like once I returned home. Would I, too, move differently? I hoped I would return braver—or, if not braver, simply less weak.
The starvelings bent forward as my hand extended. One of them sliced at me but then docilely bent down.
“Oh, do you smell grave flower pollen on me?” I cooed. “I smell it on you. It’s delightful.”
“I smell it too, and it’s killing me,” Yorick said, as though his suddenly watering eyes and running nose were fatal. I handed him a handkerchief. As he dramatically wiped his face, I thought hard. Inessa hadn’t mentioned starvelings, but her memory was unreliable, everything distorted from Bide. Perhaps she’d planted them out of caution in case she might need to get rid of a corpse. These starvelings were young and not nearly as strong as the ones in Radix, but they had the same instincts. Feathers caught in their thorns showed they’d recently devoured a bird.
Reluctantly, I turned back to Yorick. “Lead on, before you die any further.”
Yorick led me to the public entrance. It was closed and padlocked, but signs around the area indicated it was where visitors entered for tours. A shed for gardening supplies was erected there, along with a small stand that had a spigot for pouring water. Several shelves were stocked with translucent glass vases in different colors, intricate urns with two handles, and footed brass vessels so people could purchase flowers to take home. Velvet ribbons in red and gold hung from the awning, waiting to be cut and secured around fresh bouquets.
“Your Royal Highness!” A woman in a grass-stained dress came bustling from around the stand. Her hands and arms were dusted with dirt all the way up to her elbows, and her black hair, streaked heavily with gray, was pulled back. A small arsenal of gardening tools hung from her belt. She curtsied, making the tools clang.
“This is Annia,” Yorick said. “She’s the head botanist who tends the garden and served your sister the flower berry.”
“Hello, Annia,” I said. At that, the woman’s cheery expression disappeared and was replaced with gravity. It contrasted with her ruddy face, which seemed meant for sunburns and smiles.
“Your Highness.” She curtsied and sadly shook her head. “I am terribly sorry for what happened to your sister. It was so unexpected and tragic. But it brought meaningful change, I tell you. We’ve stopped serving any flower berries to visitors. What happened to your sister will never happen to any other person who sets foot in this garden, I assure you.”
“I’m pleased to hear it,” I said, cutting off her passionate speech. I paused, trying to determine if Annia might’ve been involved in a plot against Inessa. My intuition didn’t think so. She’d given Inessa the berry openly. Assassinations tended to involve secrecy. “May I see the plant, please? And can you tell me how you used to serve it to visitors?”
“Of course, Your Highness. It’s over here.” Annia led me behind the shed to a bush covered in red flowers. At the center of each was a berry. A ribbon cordoned it off, and a sign declared NOT INUSE. As far as I could tell, it was merely an ordinary plant with ordinary flower berries.
“Annia, I know you are the head botanist, but are there others who help you?” I asked. A garden this size would need many people. Maybe someone who worked for Annia had poisoned the flower berry, knowing Annia would serve it to Inessa.
“Yes, I have a full team of botanists. They are the finest in all the kingdoms.”
I nodded. A full team of botanists. Any of them would’ve had access to the flower berry at any time. But—Inessa’s betrothal to Aeric had only recently been announced. “It must be challenging finding people with the right skills,” I wagered. “I understand you have a lifetime appointment, like the sewists.”
“I do,” Annia said proudly. “There’s soil in my blood. My family members have been botanists for the monarchy for generations.”
“If you’ve worked here the longest, then who has been here the shortest?” I tried to sound lighthearted, as though I were only fancifully seeking trivia.
“We did recently hire a new botanist. He came on, let’s see, only a few weeks ago. I admit, he’s more fit for a handyman. I have him do menial things like pull weeds and transport tools. He wishes to give visitors tours, though he really doesn’t have the personality for them. You see, I like to dazzle our visitors and he—well, I think a rock would have more dazzle. I have him helping in the background until I feel he’ll do better.”
“Oh?” A botanist who had been hired after the announcement and had no personality for tours yet specifically wished to give them. Finally, a suspect. “What’s his name? I’m certain I’ll be hosting guests from time to time, and I want to make sure they don’t go on his tour.”
“Luthien. He’s from Crus originally but came here to earn money to send back home.”
“Luthien,” I repeated. It was a common Crusan name. Spies and assassins often used unremarkable names to avoid attention. “Thank you. I’ll take my leave.”
“But, Your Highness,” Annia protested, “are you certain you wouldn’t like a tour yourself? I do give the best ones, full of dazzle.”
“I’m certain you do,” I said. “When I have more time, I’ll come straight to you and prepare to be … dazzled.”
Yorick and I headed back to the palace. The grass was springy beneath my feet, the blades popping up perfectly again every time myslippers lifted. Yorick could’ve easily outpaced me, but he matched my speed.
“You seem to have found what you were looking for,” he observed. “There’s much more purpose to your steps now.”
“Perhaps.” I glanced at my new bookish friend. He appeared to enjoy my company, but there was the chance he was trying to befriend me to keep an eye on me for Aeric. Or, for all I knew, he could be Inessa’s murderer. If he was either of those things, all the better to keep him near. “How long have you been a jester for the court?”
“She’s the queen of questions,” Yorick said whimsically.
