Page 70 of Grave Flowers
O Brother,
our hearts tighten with hate,
so much so they die from our own constriction.
But if we eat our own tails—
perhaps dragons we might become.
Results
With the speed of vipers, the serpentines shot forward and lashed around the neck, wrists, chest, and ankles of a prisoner. Then they tightened, tightened, tightened until the victim stopped wiggling. They didn’t devour it, but they played with the body, constricting it over and over. Quickly, though, they became bored and began diving forward to lash around the foundational pillars of the palace and tightening. The stones shifted and the room shook. It would’ve certainly collapsed if the invocation hadn’t worn off.
Complications
I thought that this might be wonderful! I could have them secretly planted beneath the Crus palace, and, once the invocation is said, they would demolish it. I tried to replicate it to see if this might be a reliable weapon. To my frustration, the serpentines this time slithered up through the cracks of the walls and into the halls. They darted down them, dragging their roots behind them, giving everyone a fright and leaving dirty marks down the carpets. I can’t risk it. If they did that instead of bringing down the palace, they would enrage King Ky, and he would march against us. If that were to happen, I’d have no choice but to say all the invocations at once and set the grave flowers free to do their worst—but I imagine we might be destroyed in the process.
Applications
Demolition, with the possibility of setting snakelike flowers loose and making things very dirty and making their king look like a fool.
Chapter
TWENTY
Decima was gone when I exited the theater, but Sindony waited, her foot tapping impatiently against the marble floor. She didn’t say anything when I appeared. Rather, she turned on her heel and strode down the hall. I followed her, apprehension mounting, especially as she took me through turns I’d never been before. The palace narrowed around us, and soon we were in a secluded wing. No servants, guards, or courtiers were present. I wavered, alarmed at the isolation. Finally, Sindony stopped at a round door. She removed a key from her pocket and opened it, her hands moving with a quick and flawless grace that was surprising, considering her usual clumsiness.
“He’s waiting in there,” she said, not bothering to curtsy. My apprehension turned to complete trepidation. Why did Prince Lambert wish to speak to me here? As far as I knew, he was still my ally, but perhaps something had changed. Things did so all the time at court in Radix. Sindony considered me smugly. I’d gotten her wrong—what else had I gotten wrong?
“And what does he want?” I asked, lifting my chin.
“You’ll see,” she said. With that, she left. I nearly ran after her, half wishing to follow her back to the known parts of the Acusan palace. There was nothing to do but open the round door and enter. I did so quickly, trying to assess where any threats might be.
I was outdoors but not outside. Four walls adorned in ornamental stonework surrounded me, but there was no roof. A trellis laced its way above my head. Woody vines crept over it, and reddish flowers grew in clustered stalks from them. Each stalk drooped toward the ground, forming a ceiling of fragrant hanging blossoms.
A small stone bench with a back sculpted into a heart sat near a fountain, and beyond that was an even smaller table made from curling iron with matching chairs. Crimson flowers grew in freestanding terrariums, all of which were mounted on elaborate marble bases. The terrariums looked like birdcages, the panes of glass set amid delicate walnut-stained casing. All the flowers seemed content within their small confinements, not a single leaf or blossom reaching toward the sun or pressing against the glass, as though they had everything they needed right where they were.
Prince Lambert stood by the fountain. He appeared to have shrunk, like his bones had lost density overnight. He was perfectly still except for his eyes. They kept darting to the right of him, perhaps hoping to find Queen Gertrude standing there, as she had in life. The fingers on his right side spread wide in the way hands did when waiting for someone to slip their fingers into their empty places.
But Queen Gertrude would never hold his hand again.
“I was told you wished to see me?” I asked, as the round door closed, sealing me into the garden.
“The queen is dead,” he said, and his voice trembled, as though he couldn’t believe it. His gaze darted from the bench to the table and chairs. I realized, suddenly, that this garden had been made for two people. The bench could accommodate only two bodies, and there were only two chairs at the small table, which had just the right amount of surface fordrinks or food for two. The positioning of the atriums and fountains made it so three, even standing, would feel like too many. It was a space meant for one soul and their counterpart—a secret garden, a lover’s garden. As Prince Lambert surveyed the surroundings, the desperation in his face grew, and he stumbled forward, as though he wished to step into the past and be with Queen Gertrude again. This had to be where they planned and plotted, hidden away within the palace.
“My condolences for your loss,” I said carefully, warily. The intimacy of the garden tightened around me. I imagined I could scream at the top of my lungs and it wouldn’t reach past the walls; the stones and sky would claim the sound before anyone else heard—not that anyone was around to hear it, as this part of the palace was devoid of traffic.
“She was the love of my life,” Prince Lambert said, his eyes leaping faster and faster between the bench and the table.
“I—” I didn’t know what to say. His openness wasn’t simply vulnerability. Not to me. It was unpredictability, and as such, it was terrifying. “I’m truly sorry.”
“Sit.” He pointed to the bench. Stiffly, I stepped over to it and sank onto its edge. Now that I sat upon it, I noticed the bench’s heart-shaped back was shot through with an arrow. To my surprise, Prince Lambert came and settled next to me. He put his arm around me, his touch gentle and his hand cupping my shoulder. I went stiff. Gold glinted at his neck. I recognized Queen Gertrude’s necklace, the one representing her house. He wore it now. It was a bold move, considering his own house was the reigning royal one and the Montarios had been criminals. He truly loved Queen Gertrude. It scared me because now that she was gone, he was lost.
“It isn’t the same at all,” he muttered, pushing off the bench to stand once again. I quickly did as well. “You’re too short.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Death leaves … gaps.” Finally, he focused on me, but he squinted and tilted his head, as though if he saw me from the right angle, I mightbecome Queen Gertrude. “Holes. They must be filled. Even if no one else can ever truly fill—” He stopped, throat bobbing as he swallowed over and over. I waited, not daring to even shift. “My beloved is gone, but I must complete what we started together. It’s what she’d want. You must take her place.”
