Page 53 of Grave Flowers
“Not a morning soul, are you?” Aeric asked. I stared uncomprehendingly at him. My scared thoughts were turned so inward that I hardly heard him. He kept going. “I admit, I’m not either. In the monasterium, I was woken at the third morning hour long before the sun and at the fourth morning hour on high feast days. Didn’t much suit me. I’ve been sleeping past the midday ever since leaving.”
“Pardon?”
“Slumber habits, Princess.” He sneezed. “I’m merely speaking of slumber habits. Is something wrong? You seem flummoxed.”
“I—I’m wondering why the grave flowers are here,” I said. “Are you trying to possess Radix’s gifting? When you already possess the sun and, as it seems, the wine?”
Annia poked one of the dragonslips and gasped in horror when it emitted a small puff of smoke. I angled away from her, feeling hedged in by her and Aeric.
“You misunderstand,” Aeric said. He spoke softly, as though only for me. “They are for you.”
“For me?”
“A secondary wedding gift, Princess.” He was usually so confident, but for once, he watched me closely, a mix of hope and nervousness in his eyes. But that wasn’t right. He didn’t really care about impressing me. It was an act. “Certainly, I do think you’ll enjoy the play very much. But theatrics last only as long they are performed. Plays die on stage the second the curtain closes. I wish to give you something more lasting in addition. Something that is yours alone.”
Something for me alone. If it had been sincere, it would’ve been quite the gesture. Wedding gifts were given to families and kingdoms, so it was a statement to give one gift to the bride herself. But nothing was truly mine alone, this included. Aeric and I had our own objectives, and we were inseparable from them. Our actions were like a goblet of water, while our aims were ink, spreading through it until the water took its color. My betrothed was trying to get under my guard at best and, at worst, find a way to use the grave flowers to his advantage. In their weakened state, the grave flowers would be easier to utilize.
“I beg your pardon, Prince Aeric.” Annia spoke, still distressed and sniffling. “These flowers are quite … unique.” She had the wherewithal not to insult me directly. I looked from her to Aeric, trying to detect any alliance between them. If there was one, they hid it well, a fact that made me feel even more precarious. “I’m worried about what they’ll do to the others. Our flowers are so beautiful. It takes the perfect balance of care to keep them that way. Introducing these—ahem—more intenseflowers will corrupt their habitat.”
“Do not worry, Annia,” I quickly interjected. “I will take charge of them. Before you know it, they will return to health and be strong enough to slay a man with ease.” I spoke more to Aeric than Annia, smiling as I mentioned their lethality. “But do beware. They are teeming with poisons and powers, and I must admit … I don’t think they are fond of Acus.”
“Perhaps time will change their minds,” Aeric said, gazing intently at me. His excited nervousness was gone, and he regarded me somberly. He cleared his throat. “I must go now. Rehearsal, of course. The second act is in shambles.” Neither of us said anything, yet he lingered. Suddenly, he held out his hand to graciously take my leave. I stared at it. Etiquette dictated that I take it, but I didn’t wish to. Touching him would remind me of last night, of how he’d gripped me so tightly, so desperately—of how real it had all felt. Sensing my reluctance, he dropped his hand. “I hope you enjoy your gift, Princess.”
Without waiting for a response, he departed. He ambled easily away, but his fingers were stiff down by his side. Right before he rounded the corner out of sight, his hand curled into a fist. I turned back to the grave flowers.
“Get salt water,” I said to Annia. “Lots of it.”
“Salt water?” Annia asked, staring at me as though I’d told her to fetch a nest of wasps.
“They require it. Get some from the ocean if you must.” It was a relief to know that, at least for today, I could be in the garden without her. “Lots of it.”
“That will take my entire workforce,” Annia protested. She wiped her nose on her sleeve. “We are already shorthanded. Our handyman, I mean botanist—the one without the dazzle—didn’t show up for work. I think he might’ve left the job altogether, though it’s a relief because I won’t have to hamper his aspirations anymore. But I was planning hiring someone else today.”
“The hiring will have to wait.” It took everything in me not to look from Annia to the starvelings, where Luthien was buried. I’d gotten lucky. Annia thought he’d simply quit, and I doubted anyone else would care that he was gone. “Go now. The grave flowers need it.”
Annia and the other botanists left. I knelt among the vessels on the grass. The grave flowers had been even more neglected than I first realized. They were so weak that they simply listed about, as though they might collapse at any moment. Even when I got dangerously close to the lost souls and whispered outrageous compliments to the beauties, there was no response.
“Don’t worry,” I said to them, my heart aching at their condition, “I’ll make sure you get better, and you’ll be terrorizing me and everyone else in no time.”
A long, lanky shadow fell across me. Yorick. He was dressed as elegantly as ever, still in black with his gloves. His eyes were rimmed in black powder too, but it wasn’t quite enough to hide how tired they were.
“Good morrow,” I said, wiping sweat from my brow with the back of my hand. “How are you?”
“Surprised to see you here, Your Highness,” he said. “But then, I probably shouldn’t be here either. I don’t think we’re supposed to go back to where we”—he dropped to one knee so he was near to me as he mouthed the wordmurdered—“someone only last night.”
“Well, I have a reason.” I motioned to the grave flowers. “A gift from my betrothed.”
“Oh, to be so grandly spoiled.” Yorick pretended to pout. “He must truly adore you to bring these sneeze-inducing creatures here. Hopefully you don’t mind if I stand upwind? Red noses don’t become me.”
“Not at all,” I said, amused for a moment before returning to the perplexities before me. “Come sit with me.” Yorick lowered himself from his knee to settle on the grass next to me, sprawling comfortably. “I confess, the gift did surprise me. I have a question. Since you live in the theater, have you seen Aeric’s rehearsals?”
“To my regret, yes.”
“Regret?”
“I don’t wish to diminish your image of your beloved, but he’s a terrible playmaker.” Yorick held his breath as he spoke so he might not be afflicted by the grave flower pollen. “A good play, in my humble opinion, has a theme driven by the plot. Neither theme nor plot is present. On top of it all, it’s long and nothing happens. A practical eternity!”
“Oh? And it’s about the Primeval Family, correct?”
