Page 36 of Grave Flowers
Pain spread out behind my heart, overtaking my chest until every inhale brought fresh waves. At least, I thought it was pain. It certainly felt like it. Poignant, sharp, most akin to an ache. But why would Aeric’s passionate declaration bring me pain? Or maybe it wasn’t pain. Maybe it was … longing, the sort that’s so strong, it burns. I picked up the heavy tankard of green drink and sipped. It was another Acusan atrocity of sweetness, so sugary that I grimaced. Bubbles popped across my tongue, and I swallowed them, relishing their distracting bite in the back of my throat.
“What is this?” I asked, motioning to the tankard as though he hadn’t made a vow to protect me.
His gaze lingered on me, but he allowed us to move on. “It’s a popular Acusan drink called Elevation Sublimation because of how the bubbles race to the surface like sparkling wine. But”—he sighed—“unlike sparkling wine, it has no alcohol. A child’s drink.”
“However shall you survive?” I asked. The slit on my Acusan dress fell open, exposing my legs. I pulled my cloak over them with an annoyed tug. “And however shall I survive this dress? The more I try to wear it, the less I do.”
“You do seem to be at war with it,” Aeric agreed, as the cloak went the way of the slit and slipped to the side.
“I am,” I said flatly. “Your fashions are ridiculous. Royals usually have places in their clothing to hide weapons, and these napkin-sized outfits do not suffice for it.”
“Why would I need a hidden weapon?” Aeric asked. “Didn’t you see? My fists were enough mere moments ago.”
“You were lucky,” I said, unimpressed. “The sellist didn’t have a knife. If he had, you would’ve been outmatched.”
“Do you usually carry hidden weapons?” Aeric’s eyes flickered warily over me, and I arched slightly on the stool, strangely enjoying the attention. “I should know.”
“Why should you know?” I smiled coyly at him. “Wouldn’t it defeat the purpose of having them hidden?”
“What if we embraced and I was unaware? I might get stabbed.”
“Then I suppose the only solution is for us to never embrace until you overcome your fear.” I tried to reel myself back. By the Family, his overconfident manner made me forget my aims. Before he could respond, I hurried us to another topic because, once again, our conversations seemed to have a mind of their own. It simply wouldn’t do. Or, more accurately, it couldn’t. I had to remember my mission. “On another note, I met your mother, Queen Gertrude, at the betrothal. She was there with Prince Lambert.”
“Ah, yes, him. My … I don’t know, stepfather-uncle?”
“He appears to be popular at court,” I said.
“At the very least, he is popular with my mother.” Aeric’s voice was impassive yet slightly strained. “Though she is not as popular as my father was—though perhaps more popular than I, so I shouldn’t critique.”
“I can’t imagine why you wouldn’t be liked,” I said, unable to resist.
“What did you say?”
“Oh, nothing. Regarding Queen Gertrude—I imagine she hasn’t had a very easy life? I saw the memory garden. The mother is always blamed for things such as infertility or deficiencies in the children.”
I tensed my hand, the scar quiet upon my skin for once. Father had allowed me and Inessa to live despite being attached at the hand. It was remarkable, considering his usual brutal methods and the fact he’d raised us with lies to tell, our worth to prove, and poison rings on our fingers. The knowledge comforted me. It was my only example that Father must have loved us, in some way.
“She has not,” Aeric agreed. The bitterness was gone, replaced by a tone that wasn’t quite sad but rather … weary.
“But you say your father was well-liked by court?” I tried not to sound too interested, but I couldn’t afford to let the opportunity pass. If there was an Acusan noble against our marriage, perhaps I might learn who it was. “Did he have close friends?”
“In a way,” Aeric said. “He was beloved by many, but he always told me a king walks alone. It’s hard to have close friendships when you must seek the good for everyone in the kingdom, not just those you like. To be a good king, you must sacrifice yourself.”
The wordgoodmade me frown in confusion. I wasn’t so certain goodness existed—or evil. Of course, I firmly believed in monstrosity. I’d seen it materialize and take form in Father as he straddled the man at the banquet, strangling him amid the pickled fish garnished with halved lemons, turning the man into yet another dead thing on the table. I’d seen the same monstrosity assume the mystery of illness, striking infants with fevers, infecting commonplace cuts, sending grown men to beds from which they never left. I’d also seen it slip into hearts to fill them with rage or grief or hate. I’d seen it in Inessa, Mother—as she nodded in tempo while Father strangled the man … myself, using people to advantage my position, making me think there was no good or evil, only hands and hearts forced to act.
This was how we were born.
How we lived. How we would die.
If we were what we were, how could it be evil?
Yet, if that was the case, why did the thought leave me so empty?
I let out a strangled breath. My stool teetered to the side; one leg much shorter than the other. It lifted and then jolted back to the ground, shaking me from my grim reverie. Aeric’s cumbersome contemplations on life were contagious.
“Do you feel ready to be a king?” I asked.
“I think …” Aeric stared down at his drink, for once not imbibing assiduously, though it might’ve been because it wasn’t alcoholic. “I think I must be ready, so I shall.”
