Page 59 of Grave Flowers
“You are the scared one,” Inessa agreed. Then she nudged me. “But that means you’re also the brave one.”
It was one of the nicest things Inessa had ever said to me and one of the last of its kind. Shortly after, Father put us in competition, and everything changed. Sometimes I would still climb alone to our tiny chapel and sit in front of the plaque. We’d never gotten to fill it with anything else, and the wind that had claimed the scarf eventually claimed the plaque too.
Now I was atop a different palace roof while Yorick suggested we claim it for ourselves, reminding me of how my sister and I never had. I let out a sigh, as though I might breathe the memory away.
“It might be difficult to set up a tiny table with tiny cups if Prince Aeric is often up here,” I said. “Though I do like the idea.”
It was humorous to think of such a setup because the palace roof was desolate and nothing but stone. I wandered to the ledge. My stomach turned. The garden was crafted in miniature, far away and tiny. A guardian was next to me, its teeth bared. It was smooth, aside from one crumbly patch that caught on my skirt. Carefully, I tried to work it free, but its sharpness cut my skin and tore a hole in the fabric. Upon closer inspection, I saw it wasn’t truly a crumbly patch but rather tiny gouges in the stone, made from something very small but sharp. I gave it a firm tug. Loose gravel beneath my feet made me stumble. My slippers had no purchase. I fell onto my backside with a thud, the gravel digging into my palms. I’d come here seeking answers, and the palace roof seemed to attack me, protecting its monarch.
“Ouch!” I cried.
Yorick hurried to my side. “Let me help you up, Your Highness.” Once I was upright, he examined my palm and carefully picked pebbles from it. They didn’t match the stone on the ground. Instead, they were the same limestone as the guardians. I let out a defeated sigh and leaned against the sturdiness of the guardian’s sloped back. “We need to be careful with you,” he said, noting my inflamed scar.
“I’m fine,” I said quickly, pulling my hands away. My palms stung terribly. I peered hopelessly around the roof; I’d learned nothing.
“Is everything all right?” Concern filled Yorick’s voice.
“Everything is all right,” I said, more defeated than ever.
“Or maybe nothing is?” Yorick asked gently. He leaned against the guardian with me.
“Maybe,” I admitted.
“Here’s one thing to lift your spirits,” Yorick said. “I heard the cheering. The court loved you. They embraced you, and I would wager most want to see you wear the crown. There’s much you can do here, should you desire.”
He didn’t understand. My aim was to help Radix. I recalled Aeric’s plans for our two kingdoms. I’d never thought an Acusan monarch would wish to do anything other than expand their control through a vassal. Yet Aeric’s vision truly would benefit us both. I sighed. It didn’t matter. Radix would care not, but perhaps, once I was queen regnant after Father died, I might strive to implement educational programs and research how we could harvest our rocks for export to Acus and maybe Crus and Pingere as well. In all my avoiding the crown, I’d never considered what I’d do with it if it found its way onto my head.
“I’ve missed our conspiring.” Yorick dropped his head onto my shoulder. “We should do this more often. Who should we murder next? Let’s kill Horatio. I fear he’s more handsome than me.”
I laughed. “I’m hoping to keep the murders to a minimum.”
“Fine.” Yorick sighed with playful huffiness. “I suppose we can’t murder people because they’re more beautiful than us.”
“You have nothing to fear, Yorick. No one is as beautiful as you.”
“Not even Horatio?”
“Not even Horatio.”
“Good. Horatio lives, then.”
Another laugh escaped me. I leaned into Yorick. He straightened, letting me rest against him.
“Perhaps jester was your true calling after all,” I said. “You always make me laugh.”
“You’re too kind, but it’s because I’m so sad.”
“Sad people are better at making others laugh?” I asked.
“I think so. We laugh so we don’t cry.” Gently, he wrapped his arm around me. “Anyways, where might we put the tiny table?”
Later that night, nothing was right. Everything about my bed was too soft and too comfortable. Or maybe it was that I was too rigid, strain locking my bones and joints into points of tension. Even the darkness in my chambers was infuriatingly mild, and I could see the outlines of furniture and furnishings, much to my frustration. Seeing them meant I was awake when the only thing I wanted was to fall into the nothingness of dreamless sleep.
At first, I thought I imagined a bizarre stirring within the palace. The only sounds usually drifting into my chamber were the footsteps of guards making rounds, their boots characteristically heavy, and the occasional servant, their steps much lighter.
But I heard … running.
It came from up the hallway and grew louder until the quick steps passed right in front of my chamber and continued down the hall. I sat up. There was more running, heading in the same direction. I heard shouting.
