Page 78 of Grave Flowers
Aeric’s torso contracted as he caught his breath, as though he hadn’t expected me to respond in kind. I stared straight ahead. How odd that we sat here, no space between us, apologizing for petty wrongs when greater ones lurked within us. In a day, one of us would be destroyed by the other.
A divot in the cobblestones caused the horse to briefly stumble. Aeric’s arm wrapped tightly around my waist, keeping me secure. Before he could remove it, I put my own hand over his, holding him against me.
We didn’t say anything else.
Soon, we reached For the Father. I paused, holding up a hand to block out the light and see the structure. It had several steeply pitched gable roofs and ornamental half-timbering forming geometrical shapes against its white stucco walls. Several chimneys stretched to the sky. Each one had bricks set in a decorative pattern—herringbones, diamonds, helixes—with elaborate brick toppers crowning the heads. Guardians sat among them, glowering down. The far side of the monasterium rose into limestone spires with long stained-glass windows supported by intricately carved buttresses.
Aeric dismounted and lifted me off, his hands circling my waist. My body reflexively stiffened into a dancing posture. He noticed and glanced down at me.
I facetiously curtsied.
Sorrow passed through his eyes, so quickly that I wondered if it was merely shade from his hood.
He bowed. When he straightened, his hood fell back. No matter what, clothing and shadows fled from him, as though his true form was meant to be exposed.
Neither of us said anything.
“Your Royal Highnesses!” A monasticte of a high order bustled out to greet us. His round cheeks flushed in pleasure at the sight of the ruler prevailing. “Come in, come in. We were not expecting you, but we are honored.”
Word spread fast about Aeric’s arrival, and monastictes materialized around us, drawing us inside while praising their monarch. They came between us. Each one clamored to receive Aeric’s Holy Admittance. I was expelled from the sea of holy men, jostled and pushed aside. I didn’t mind because it would leave me to probe on my own.
“Stop.” Aeric’s order reverberated off the vaulted dome in the way a pendulum reverberates against the inside of a bell. The monastictes quieted. My betrothed turned. Me, I realized—he’d stopped everyone for me. “The princess will be your queen tomorrow.” I’d never heard him speak so strongly. “Treat her as such.”
Immediately, the monastictes crowding me out bowed and backed away. Aeric and I faced each other across the inlaid marble floor. His attention was so fixed upon me, I might believe no one else existed.
“Oh, no need for any fuss,” I said, but my voice was remote from my lips. My lips didn’t long to speak. They were warm and longed to be made warmer by his, a desire sparked by the intensity of his gaze, the command of his voice, the tilt of his body toward mine. The thought was horrifyingly evocative, especially considering that we stood on consecrated ground. I was startled by its severity.
“Perhaps Her Royal Highness wishes to make Holy Admittance as well?” one of the monastictes asked in a kind voice.
“Do you?” Aeric deferred to me. Not once did his attention leave me.
I returned his gaze in equal measure. Considering the secrets we both harbored, it would’ve been wise to avoid such direct eye contact, especially as the wedding night was tomorrow. Lips were safer. They could whisper falsehoods, lure you with thoughts of kisses, and offer empty smiles. Eyes weren’t such compelling liars, yet we offered ours up to each other, daring the risk.
“I seek reflective solitude and shall require no attendance,” I said. “But thank you.”
At that, the monastictes abandoned all thought of me and once again swarmed around Aeric. He remained fixed for a moment longer, and then, so quickly that only I might notice it, he bowed to me once again. I watched as he pressed toward the admittance compartments, wondering if he’d be careful in whatever he admitted. Then again, he could spend the entire time on his drunken revelries alone.
Another monasticte hurried by, attempting to catch up with Aeric.
“Pardon me,” I said.
He stopped with a frown, angled away, as though he might evade me at any moment and continue after the others. “May I help you, Your Highness?”
“Yes, I …” I paused. What might I ask? All I knew was that Inessa had written a note to Alifair. “Did my sister, Princess Inessa, happen to visit during her short time in Acus?”
“No, we never had the pleasure of her presence,” the monasticte said. I supposed it made sense. Inessa hadn’t gotten to send the note, likely dying before she could. But she’d planned to come and visit Alifair, and I wouldn’t leave until I knew why.
“Do you know any Alifairs who live here?” I wavered, unsure what to reveal and what to hide.
“Alifair? What a peculiar name. No, I don’t know anyone by that name.”
“What about this?” I asked. “Might you know of its origins? It is a sacred image.” Carefully, I removed the plaque from my pocket and held it out for the monasticte to see.
“Sacred image?” the monasticte scoffed. I finally had his full attention, but it was riddled with disdain. “Far from it. That’s a Fely relic. It’s profane, just as your kingdom’s grave flowers are.”
“Profane?” My Radixan pride rose. My face grew hot and my words fast. “How might they be profane when they are a divine gifting from the Primeval Family?”
“Were,Your Highness. Were a divine gifting. Whatever they are now … they couldn’t be further from it.” The monasticte stared haughtily at me. “Now, I understand you are Fely? Your ways do not align with the faith. The Fely interpretations are heretical.”
