Page 46 of Grave Flowers
Together, we dragged Luthien to the starvelings. Yorick tucked Luthien’s knife into his belt and then, with effort, helped me hoist Luthien’s corpse into the flower bed. Immediately, the starvelings swarmed over it. Their muttering grew, and their thorns extended, growing longer in anticipation of their meal.
Then they got to work.
First, the starvelings prepared themselves. They tore off their heavy budded petals to make their stems agile and lighter. The petals dropped without complaint to the dirt, where they immediately began to leak their corrosive poison into the soil. It softened the earth and would break down the body once it was buried. The roots, visible only when devouring large prey, sprouted. Hundreds of wormlike white coils pushed up and crawled forward. They swarmed over Luthien. Small knobs bulged at intervals over the coils, and they latched on to his corpse. Inch by inch, they pulled it into the hovels created by the roots under the soil. Bones cracked and snapped as Luthien was contorted to fit. The leaves bent, sweeping the dirt over him until he was buried.
“May you swim in salt,” I whispered, shaken. Perhaps it was wrong to speak the blessing over Luthien’s grave after I’d been the one to murder him, but I couldn’t stop myself. I turned to Yorick. He was pale. I put my hand on his arm. “Are you all right?”
“I am. You did what you had to do.” Despite his pallor, his voice was even. “But will anyone suspect you played a role in Luthien’s death?”
“No one will suspectus.” I put an emphasis on the last word. Yorick needed to remember that he was as involved as me, and if I went down, so did he. “Luthien came to my chambers this morning, but I told him to speak with Annia, the head botanist, afterward. I was not the last person to see him and our exchange in my chambers was too brief to be of any significance.”
“You’re good at this,” Yorick said. The compliment startled me. I wasn’t good at this—Father and Inessa were. But then, maybe the Sinet ways were within me, guiding me through crimes I didn’t wish to commit. There was no time to dwell upon it.
“Please, cover any signs of a struggle,” I said. “I must take your leave.”
Yorick bowed quickly and nodded. Our confrontation had been brief, and the only evidence of it was marks in the grass from where I’d fallen onto the ground. I paused and glanced at Yorick. His back was turned. I sidled up to the flower bed. There was a bulge where Luthien had been dragged underground, but by tomorrow, it would be evened out. Quickly, I reached into my pocket and took out Yorick’s jester pin. I tossed it. It landed noiselessly amid the starvelings. The dirt was loose where they’d hauled Luthien into their hovel. The pin sat for one second and then sank beneath the soil. I turned away and cut across the garden.
I’d killed a man, yet my guilt was over the pin. Still, it had to be done. If anyone somehow unearthed Luthien’s body before it was fully dissolved, they would find Yorick’s pin. He would be blamed for the murder. Not me.
But, I assured myself, the starvelings would do good work.
There was nothing to fret about … at least, as far as Yorick’s pin was concerned.
Chapter
THIRTEEN
Idashed back to my chambers. Hastily, I changed into another dress and splashed water on my face and over my hands. I had to meet Aeric and act as though I’d done nothing aside from change my clothes.
I sprinted down the halls and down the stairs to the balcony on the second floor. Right before I reached it, I slowed and sucked in deep breaths, trying to steady my breathing. I needed to enter calmly, but I also needed to hurry. From what I could tell, I’d done everything quickly enough. I’d killed Luthien and disposed of his body in short order—hadn’t I? The events and their duration jumbled in my mind. Some instances seemed eternally long, like the moment when I’d waited for Luthien and when I’d seen the knife in his hand, but there was no way they could’ve been. Other instances, like tossing Yorick’s pin into the flower bed and changing my dress, seemed ridiculously short, so short that it was as though they hadn’t happened at all. It was bizarre to think of Aeric meandering down to the wine cellar and to the balcony while I poisoned Luthien. The experience had been so consuming andhorrible, it was preposterous to think of ordinary things happening at the same time.
When my breath was finally measured, I opened the door to the balcony. Aeric was sitting in a chair tipped onto its back legs with his feet up on the rail. He’d been staring out at the view, but at my entrance, he turned. The minute he saw me, terror contorted his face. He lost his balance, and the chair toppled onto its side with him in it.
Then I saw her.
Inessa.
She was right across the way in her red dress. Facing me, staring right at me. A strangled gasp choked its way from my throat, and I clamped my hands over my mouth. Inessa mimicked me, doing the exact same gesture.
My mind dimly grasped what was happening.
I’d seen my own reflection in a mirror anchored to the wall and had mistaken myself for Inessa. Looking down, I almost gasped again when I realized that, in my rush, I’d donned her dress, the red one. I wished to tear it off. I hadn’t even noticed it on my body, but now that I did, the fabric felt wet against my skin. When I gripped fistfuls of the silk, though, it was as dry and smooth as could be. I forced myself to release the dress.
“I—I thought you were your sister,” Aeric said shakily, pushing himself to his feet and righting his chair.
“I’m not a ghost, if you’ll recall,” I tried to jest. My voice was as shaky as his. “Though when I saw my reflection, I thought I was her as well.”
“Why?” The abrupt, suddenly emotionless question shook me. I should’ve never seen Inessa in this dress, so why would I think I was her? I met Aeric’s gaze. He stared at me, waiting for my answer. Why was I always making dangerous mistakes around him?
“Because I’m used to seeing her.” I attempted to sound glib. “I saw my reflection and just thought I was back home, with her standing across the way from me.”
“Oh.” Aeric took a long breath. “You may not know this, but your sister was wearing that red dress when she …”
“I apologize,” I said. “It must’ve given you quite the fright.”
“But how did you come to have it?” He glanced from the dress to my face, brow furrowing. “It was sent to your father.”
“Was it? There must’ve been some mistake because it was in my wardrobe when I arrived.” I stared down at the dress. It was easy to act perplexed now because I was. A shudder worked its way over me. My sister had died in this dress. The shudder gripped me and turned into shivers. They spread across me. I trembled, despite every effort not to.
