Page 37 of Grave Flowers
“Perhaps you might lean on your uncle,” I said, trying to further gauge his feelings on Prince Lambert. “He can help you.”
Aeric ducked his head again, his long lashes shielding his eyes and his arms coming across his body. An emotion I didn’t understand emanated from him, as visible as the blood pooling to form the bruise beneath his skin. Was he afraid? Angry? Confused? Maybe all three?
“After all,” I continued, watching him carefully, “you spent most of your life away from court.”
Aeric lifted his head, chin up, shoulders back. Whatever vexation had overtaken him moments before was gone. He’d willed it away and reformed himself. For once, he didn’t look like a drunken prince. He looked like a strong king. “I know what I’m doing,” he said.
This wasn’t good after all.
I needed him weak, and I’d somehow ennobled him—or he’d done it himself, first succumbing to whatever his fears might be and then harnessing them. I had to undo this sudden assurance. I tried to think of the most unkinglike thing about him. It wasn’t a difficult task. Several things rose to mind: His inelegance while he partied. His approachable demeanor. His focus on frivolous pursuits like holding a play. I steeled myself before I spoke, assuming the Sinet ways that always eluded me.
“Do you? Plays alone can’t make kings, yet I hear rehearsals consume your days. Perhaps you’ll play the jester since the position is suddenly open?”
Slick satisfaction filled me, the sort that had fed Inessa more than food ever could. For once, I understood it and reveled in it.
“Do you think that’s all I’m suited for?” he asked. Gone was the kingly nobleness but gone as well was his flirtatious apathy. His gaze glinted with the brightness and lethalness of broken glass.
“I don’t think about you at all.” I pushed back my stool and rose. “I wish to return to the palace.” Aeric twisted on his stool and leaned back so his elbows crooked on the counter and his legs sprawled out. “Please escort me now.”
Leisurely, he reached an arm back to pick up his tankard. He took a long, slow drink. I turned away and started down the street.
“Princess!”
I ignored him. From behind me, I heard the screech of the stool being pushed back.
His shadow fell hard and thick next to mine. “Princess,” he repeated.
“If you won’t take me back, I’ll take myself back,” I said.
“Very well,” he said, matching my pace. “Only, the stable is the other way, and you’re about to run into a wall.”
Looking ahead, I saw that the bricked back of a building awaited me, along with the sides of three others. I stopped abruptly and turned to face him. He stumbled back, unable to hide the intimidation that swept away the shards of sharp glass in his gaze. I took a step toward him to see if he would give up more ground. He didn’t, and the flash of glass returned, keener this time. I’d have to fluster him some other way.
Lifting my chin, I swept up to him and rose onto my tiptoes. His scent was intoxicating. It made me wish to bite him, even as I wished to emotionally destroy him. I took his face in my hands and brushed my lips against his bruise. Beneath my touch, he became fixed in place, as though he had no defense against me. Only his jaw moved, flexing beneath my hand, his teeth clenching.
I released him and went back the other way.
As I did, my fingers clenched at my side, hidden by my skirt. For once, my hand without the scar commanded my attention. I could still feel the curve of his face against my palm, and even though I’d held it only moments ago, I burned to do so again.
Chapter
ELEVEN
TT he next morning, the fake Crusan coin sat on my vanity, but I hardly saw it. Instead, I tasted the disgustingly sugary drink from yesterday and remembered how Aeric had frozen to my touch when I kissed his bruise. The memory of him becoming so still made me still too. Yet even more intense was the recollection of him telling me he’d protect me, as though I were worth keeping safe and …
I stood. Ruthlessly, I clenched my hand, making my scar burn. It was enough to bring me back. Desire could always be fought with pain.
“Sindony?” I called.
“Yes, Your Highness?”
“I would like some fresh flowers from the garden for my chambers.” I was relieved the task was simple enough that Sindony could accomplish it without any missteps. My temple still had a mark from where she’d misapplied a hair iron. I picked up the coin. Its rusty edges and raised face pressed against my fingers.
“Certainly, Your Highness.”
“But don’t disturb Annia or the more experienced botanists,” I added, sounding breezy and unconcerned. “They have enough to do. Perhaps ask Luthien—that way he won’t be inspired to give tours. Have him bring them later this afternoon. I’m heading out now and wish to oversee their arrival. I’m quite particular about my floral arrangements. Then you and the other girls may have the rest of the day for your leisure.”
She nodded and curtsied.
