Page 62 of Grave Flowers
“No witnesses?” Aeric asked from his perch, noticing that I surveyed the garden.
“Whatever do you mean?”
“For when you push me off to be eaten, of course.” Hearing him speak so blithely about his own murder at my hands sent a jolt through me. Little did he know that I couldn’t kill him now. I stared wordlessly at Aeric. He cast his head back and laughed. Lifting the bottle, he tried to take a drink but faltered and missed his mouth entirely. Wine spilled over his chest, a black torrent instead of red in the poor light.
I realized, suddenly, that he was drunk.
Trulydrunk, in a way that went far beyond what I’d seen before. In fact, it made most of the other instances seem like counterfeits—and maybe they were, all along. The other times, he’d watched the world, using the guise of wine and merriment as a costume. Everyone had believed the part he’d offered us and acted to perfection, me included. Now it was as though he’d opened himself up to be watched, no artifice between him and me, not anymore. The bottle slipped from his fingers. One of the starvelings snatched it as it fell. With one clawed compression, it shattered the bottle. The other starvelings convened, swarming over the drops of wine and glass shards.
“If you aren’t careful, you’ll go the same way as the bottle,” I said, keeping my tone light. He frowned, sulking over his lost wine. Then his face brightened, and he pulled a flask from his pocket. I threw my hands in the air. “You’re incorrigible. Please, get off.”
“You’re worried about me.” A small, pleased—and slightly smug—smile took over his lips.
“You are, may I remind you, standing on a ledge next to some very hungry and dangerous grave flowers. ‘Worried’ is an understatement.”
“It doesn’t make sense.”
“Why not?”
“Because you don’t wish to marry me, and you’d sooner see me plunge to my death than wed me.” He tossed the accusation to me carelessly. With even less care, he turned on the ledge. “I’ll make it easy for you.”
Involuntarily, I took another step forward, holding up a hand as though I might stop him. To my horror, he strolled forward. Every step was jerky and uneven, seesawing his body back and forth.
He was going to slip into the starvelings’ claws.
He was going to die.
Without thinking, I hurried to the fountain and hoisted myself onto the ledge with him. I rose so I might stand opposite him. We contrasted with the fountain’s unrelenting marble, our hair and clothing supple in the wind and as lithe as the water spurting from the spouts.
Immediate regret choked me as I found my life held to a four-inch spread of marble, the chittering and clicking starvelings slashing at my skirts. The fountain’s edge was much taller than the one in Radix, and my balance was driven from me. The wind was no longer playful. It suddenly had fingers, and they tugged at me, trying to deliver me to the grave flowers. Arches of water flung droplets onto the marble and turned it slippery beneath my slippers. It was more terrifying than the Oscura. There were no rails to cling to, nothing to stop me from tipping into a horrific death. Only my balance could save me from the starvelings.
I glanced down into their flower bed and regretted it. I’d never been this much at their mercy. Glass shards dusted their leaves, winking on them like fallen stars. Their thorns reached for me, lusting for my blood, longing to break my bones and drag me beneath their soil. My hands pawed at the air. Emptiness whooshed through my fingers. Aeric tossed away the flask. His eyes glinted with the same shine as the glass.
“Stop,” he said.
“Why? It’s so lovely up here,” I choked out through clenched teeth. I flinched as one of the starvelings’ thorns sliced through my nightdress.
I pulled back my shoulders and lifted one hand over my head and the other to the side, forcing my fingers to curve with grace. I rose onto my toes. The posture came naturally to me, my feet seeking it of their own accord despite my precarious spot. It was a dancing posture, one that required perfect equilibrium. The tiniest flutter of foot or sway of form would cast me to my death.
“By the Family, Madalina,don’t!” Fear roughened Aeric’s voice.
We stood together on the ledge, but we’d swapped emotions. Before, I’d been the one terrified of moving too quickly and startling him, the one speaking softly to calm and guide him to my will. Now he was white with terror, hands helplessly reaching for me and eyes darting about as though he might find a way to save me. I wondered how much I could push him, how much pain I could tear from him, how much devotion I could demand despite our secrets.
I lifted my arms to the dwindling moon and raised one foot, pointing it, elevating onto the toes of the other. The starvelings twisted and thrashed, ravenous, determined to reach me. Aeric let out a cry. I posed for him, back arched, leg extended. It turned the moment to stone, turned him to stone. He stared at me reverently, fearfully, hopelessly. On the fountain’s edge, he dropped to one knee, and I understood what it was to be the Primeval Family, to be worshipped and dreaded.
“You …” He trailed off, his voice as shattered as the wine bottle.
“What?”
“You drive me mad.”
I lowered from the pose. My balance, honed to perfection while dancing, betrayed me as I transitioned back to a relaxed posture. I stumbled, slippers grappling with the smooth wet marble. In one motion, Aeric came forward. He grabbed me, pulling me into his arms and throwing us off the fountain together. The blushing dawn and flashing starveling thorns spun through my vision.
We landed in a heap on the grass, just out of the starvelings’ reach. I found myself against his chest. Weakly, he released me and pushedhimself up. He was wet with wine, and his skin was clammy. He stared at me, his gaze bleary yet full of pain, as though nothing in the world could dull it.
“I’m surprised you didn’t push me off,” he mumbled. His elbows gave out, and he collapsed flat onto his back, staring up at the sky. “I’m … dizzy. And everyone is … dead.”
My mind was afire. I’d gotten him off the ledge. Now I needed to get him to his chambers in hopes of accessing Inessa’s. The plan buzzed in my mind, insistent against my other weaker feelings, which might give way to Aeric if I let them. I stood.
