Page 34 of Grave Flowers
We have no invocation for them. For an entire week, I tried various ones. I jumbled together words about eternity and never dying and the Primeval Family. It should work! Why must the words be exact? It was very frustrating. I remembered what my wife said about the Felys. Perhaps they might have an invocation for these. I desperately need it, so I set out some guards to arrest a Fely and bring him here for my use. I’ll report back once he arrives.
Chapter
TEN
Aeric’s and my collision caused the stairs to sway.
They listed from one side to the other, making a horrid creaking sound, as though they might give way at any moment. Panicked, I clutched at the only thing nearby to steady me, which happened to be Aeric. My hands closed around his arm, my nails digging into his skin as the stairs continued to swing. My scar throbbed agonizingly. Wind, created by the movement, rushed around us. It blew up my skirt, driving it practically to my waist. Desperately, I released one hand to push it down. Our combined weight made the pendulum swinging worse, and I barely swallowed down a cry of terror, all dancing grace gone.
Keeping one hand firmly on the rail, Aeric planted his feet in the center of the stairs and stayed upright like a seasoned sailor aboard a rocking boat, a counterforce to the motion. His hand closed around my elbow, his hold firm and reassuring. Like me, he wore a hooded cloak. Everything about him was formidable and brave, and I hated it. But I also didn’t dare let go, because if I did, fear would force me to flattenmyself most inelegantly against the stairs, and I didn’t dare show any further vulnerability. Not to Aeric.
“Madalina.” He spoke before the swinging stopped. I wondered, suddenly, if he was trying to use my defenselessness to his advantage. Just as he had the wine.
“What?” I snapped. I didn’t dare look at his face. I needed to keep my wits about me, and I always seemed to lose them when meeting his eyes.
“What are you doing here?”
I swept my gaze across the lower platforms for a plausible excuse, skittering over lovers entwined in a twisty waterfall of blankets and a miniature armory stocked with knives, maces, and mallets.
Then I saw it.
Far below was a platform holding an arched trellis and a variety of planters.
“I wanted some grave flowers,” I said. “To remind me of home.”
“That’s reasonable,” Aeric said, but his tone was much too sharp. “However, why are you heading up when the grave flowers are down there?”
“Because there is the threat of a tremendous fall into a bottomless pit, and it is more than a little disorienting.” I tried to ignore the feeling of his muscled arm, which I still clawed at as though I were drowning. “And speaking of questions—why areyouhere?”
“I saw you leaving. I followed you.”
“You followed me? Who do you think you are? My guard?”
“I think I am betrothed to you and the prince of the country you are prowling about in, and it’s my responsibility to make certain everything is safe. You say you came for grave flowers? Were you not just speaking with the silver sellist?”
How long had he been watching me? Had he been standing on the upper balcony the entire time, staring down, tracking my every action, just as he had from the palace roof? I let out another breath, intentionally this time, trying to release my fear with it.
“If you haven’t noticed, it’s a very shiny display,” I said. “I like shiny things. What princess doesn’t?”
A startled laugh left his lips, and only then did I look at his face. A shaft of light from far above fell across it, drawing it out of the shadows of the cloak. Why did the light always seem to seek him? It was infuriating. It highlighted his brow and cheekbones with dashes of gold, framing him in radiance. The tight sallowness of wine illness was gone. His eyes held the same parsing knife that I heard in his tone. I felt like he was dissecting me, even as he laughed. The swinging of the stairs lessened and finally came to a stop, only a few tremors running through them. I didn’t need to hold on to his arm any longer, but I didn’t let go, and he didn’t pull back.
“Fair enough. Well, how about I escort you down to the grave flowers stall?” He crooked his elbow, and my hand slid into it while my other fell away. We were side by side, and, carefully, we walked down the steps. They shook beneath us. I shuddered. He slipped his elbow free of my hand and placed it around my shoulders. It drew me close to him, so close that my hip brushed his thigh, and I felt the heat of him, as though he held the rays of the Acusen sun within him.
I flinched at the intensity of it.
Immediately, he released me.
Neither of us said anything until we reached the grave flowers stall. Its fanciful name, Florique Boutique, belied its true essence. A large man leaned on a counter. Muscles rose along his forearms, upper arms, and neck. They plated together like armor and made his head tiny by comparison. His eyes were nearly swollen closed from the concentration of the grave flowers’ pollen, and his skin was covered in rashes and burns from their deadly touches, along with countless cuts from the starvelings’ thorns. Their heavy floral scent had seeped into his pores, and he billowed with it, his sweat carrying sweetness not meant for him. To peddle his trade, he wore a floral-print tunic, but his musclesstretched it, distorting the pattern and pulling it taut across his body so the flowers looked like they were being torn apart.
While the grave flowers on his shirt couldn’t feel their torture, the real ones did. Lost souls, blood hearts, beauties, serpentines, starvelings, and mad minds were contained in a horrifying array of ghastly containers: boots, chamber pots, and two coffins. A trellis was erected toward the back of the stall. The trellis’s feet were stained with dirt, meaning it had once been planted in soil … and likely stolen and brought to the Oscura. The grave flowers clamored to it, tangling into a choked mess as they sought space and room. I didn’t want to think about their roots and how cramped they would be in the shallow vessels—or the fact they were drained of their color, weak, and dripping strange oils from their leaves, meaning they were terribly thirsty.
Odd accessories were also sold. A leather mask was tied to the trellis, and its tag said it could protect against grave flower pollen and any effects from mad minds or enmities. It was preposterous. I knew, at the very least, that no mask was strong enough to defend against the mad minds.
“Come to get some flowers for the lady?” The man addressed Aeric. He bent down behind the counter, causing the tunic to nearly tear, and reappeared with heavy shears. “Which ones would you like? I suggest these.”
His thick fingers grappled for the beauties. They leaned away from him, but he grabbed the stems beneath the blossoms and yanked them into the mouth of the shears, waiting for Aeric to agree.
“Let them go!” Rage made my voice shake. “You’re hurting them!”
