Page 69 of Grave Flowers
“What do you mean?”
“The script follows the traditional story, but the settings are modern. In fact, they are the current-day Acusan palace.”
“Where is the script?” Suspicion cut through me. Was Aeric using the play to send a message? I’d long worried the performance was more than it seemed, yet I hadn’t figured out how. Yorick pointed to a cue script attached to wooden dowels and paused in his ministrations for me to pick it up. It was a shared script used by all the actors, due to the expensive nature of parchment. I scanned it quickly.
It was just as Yorick said.
A Primeval Family myth recounted in bloated prose, nothing more and nothing less. How might it be a message? I set the cue script down.
Yorick reached for a cloth. Gently, he wiped away the dirt smudges on my skin and got to work on my hair. I was used to being attended to but not by someone who cared about me. There was intention to his every move, as though he wished to make me beautiful simply because he could.
Once, Mother had done my hair. She’d come to my chambers without warning and dismissed my servants. I stood uncertainly, stiff to her unfamiliar touch and unsure about what she wanted.
It turned out she hadn’t wanted anything other than to mother me.
She brushed and styled my hair, working with its Fely texture instead of against it. With deft hands, she wound it up and then spread it out into two winglike folds. Carefully, she tucked two beaded brooches on either side. Once she was done, she faced me to the mirror, then said, “Beautiful.” Her voice was quiet and her eyes shifty, as though she feared someone overhearing or seeing. Then she’d undone it and left. Inessa always said Mother stole Father’s attention before they were married, even though Father had sought her out. It made me think of Inessa telling me Mother had stolen Father’s attention. Father, though, had sought her out.
Maybe she hadn’t stolen his attention.
Maybe what she’d stolen was that simple morning with me.
I leaned my head back into Yorick’s hand. It was cool aside from his palm, where the heat of his hand bled into the leather glove and created a pool of warmth, like sitting water in the sun. He let me put his other hand on my shoulder, where he gently stroked it.
“I used to help my mother get ready,” he said, staring at me in the mirror. The vacant expression returned. It varnished his eyes, clouding them with memories probably best forgotten. “And then I’d help her when she came back. When she had bruises and—and—” The sentence broke apart, and I thought his composure might too.
“I am sorry, Yorick,” I said, and meant it.
“Oh, don’t worry about me. I have plans.”
“Plans?” I lifted my head. I appreciated him helping me with my plots, but I didn’t wish for him to have any of his own.
“You needn’t worry,” he said, sensing my alarm. “My plans involve only me.”
“Care to share?” I kept my tone light, but I turned so I could see him directly and not just in the mirror. If necessary, I could command him to tell me, but I paused. The black makeup around his eyes was thicker today. It threatened to swallow them entirely. And his face was thinner than usual. The teardrops in the corners of his eyes were stark against his pale skin. Had he been eating? I let out a breath. “If you ever need my help, Yorick, you will have it.”
At that, his shoulders sagged again but in a comfortable way, like he was settling back into himself. I was glad to see it. Whatever his plans were, I trusted that they would not interfere with mine. Maybe that was friendship—trusting each other.
“Thank you,” he said simply. “And you know you have my help too. There are not many people I’d assist in hiding a body.”
I laughed. “Hopefully that’s the last one. Now, will you please keep this for me? I fear I’m needed elsewhere now, but I’ll come fetch it later today.” I handed him the plaque I’d set atop the vanity.
He glanced at it, turning it over in his hands. “Alifair.” He read the name on the back and flipped it over to examine the image. “Quite a mystical and rustic-looking piece.”
“I think it’s beautiful,” I said. I’d visited the plaque often until I’d thought it been blown off the place roof. It was familiar to me, so much so that sometimes I felt like it’d belonged to me all along. “Will you keep it safe for me?”
“Of course, Your Highness,” Yorick said. “I’ll keep it my room, next to my books.”
“Thank you.” I rose. I didn’t dare keep Prince Lambert any longer. “I must go. Someone is waiting for me.”
SERPENTINES
Grave Flower Experiment Eight
Appearance
Green and scaly, just like serpents. Their buds turn into pointed diamond-shaped heads with petals forming fangs in several layers. They are discontented and rattle and often bite! And, oh, does it hurt. In addition, they love constricting things to death: birds, mice, squirrels. Sometimes it seems as though they have an alliance with the starvelings because they’ll set snares for animals by coiling on the ground, and the starvelings will click their thorns and distract the prey. Then the serpentines constrict them to death. It brings them great pleasure, and they give their kills to the starvelings to devour.
Invocation
