Page 84 of Grave Flowers
“Enmities.” I pushed aside thoughts of prayer and stared into their filled basins. Thick silvery-black liquid shimmered in the two cups. No wonder the other grave flowers enjoyed drinking it. It beckoned me. Sparkling metallic flecks drifted through the nectar, making them glimmer. “The lore is that two people drink from the cups at once and learn secrets the other wishes to hide from them. They are the more discreet grave flower. Mad minds will have you proclaiming your sins for all to hear.” I described my grave flowers to him, telling myself I wished to scare him and ignoring the fact I also wished for him to be impressed by my beloved grave flowers.
Aeric’s eyes narrowed. He ambled over and knelt next to me. Gently, he touched the petals forming the cup. “What’s your favorite grave flower?” he asked. He’d been so focused on the enmities that I wasn’t prepared for the question.
“Oh, I could never choose,” I said, thinking about our garden back home. I’d seen different grave flower garden variations—Inessa’s starvelings, the stall at the Oscura, the newly planted beds at the Acusan palace, and now this secret conclave—but none could replace the grave flowers who’d raised me and known me since birth. “I love them all. They probably don’t love me back, but I wouldn’t change it. In fact, it means more to me that they don’t. They belong to no one. Their wants and intents are theirs alone, unshaped by circumstances or the wills of others. It’s a rare thing in this life. An impossible thing, even. But it becomes transferrable, somehow. When I’m in the garden, I’m one of them, and I’m free too, just so long as I’m there.”
Aeric nodded, quiet and contemplative. The enmities stretched their basins to us, wishing we’d drink. The liquid dripped over the edges and rolled down to the stems in beads. My mind clouded, and my limbsbecame heavy and slow. By contrast, my vision seemed to sharpen, my eyes suddenly sensitive to the way light reflected from the pools. My tongue went dry yet tingled. The enmities were drawing me in, making it so all I wished to do was take a sip.
“Persistent, aren’t they?” Aeric asked, as they began to gently whine, desperate for us to partake. His own attention was fixed on them as though he, too, was under their sway. “Shall we try them, then?”
“I beg your pardon?” Did he not understand? Had he not heard what I’d said about the enmities’ powers, about what they did? Didn’t he have secrets to hide? I tried to contain my dismay over my precarious position. If I refused, I would show my hand in a way I never had before. My refusal would be a confession. Perhaps that was why he offered to drink. He was confident I would decline, which would confirm my guilt—all the while, he’d appear innocent. Frustration gripped me. Why hadn’t I thought to suggest it first? I tried to think of how best to respond. “We are betrothed, yes, but we haven’t known each other long. I don’t wish to have my mind bared. If you’ll understand … I carry many hurts. I wish to maintain my pride and keep them private.”
“I can understand,” Aeric said, but I knew I hadn’t won. His tone was too flippant, too smooth. “However, if I’m correct, the enmities don’t share your private hurts. They share only a secret you are keeping from the person you drink with. Anything they reveal will relate to us alone. Unless …” A coy smile spread across his lips. I waited, dread in my stomach. “Unless your thoughts for me are too unholy?”
My face didn’t simply blush pink. It turned red, my cheeks burning with embarrassment.
“Too unholy?” I sputtered. “You overestimate your appeal.”
I was backing myself further into a corner. Frantically, I glanced around the garden as though I might find help lurking behind one of the bathtubs. Nothing but the young grave flowers surrounded me. They bobbed in the slight breeze, oblivious to my distress. A thought struck me. I knew what I might do to avoid suspicion—and learn thetruth of Aeric’s plans. Discreetly, I touched my thumb to my poison ring. If the stinger wasn’t compressed against a firm surface, it wouldn’t deploy its poison. It would be perfect for slashing.
If we did indeed drink, I could slash his basin with a flick of my ring while his head was slanted back to sip from the basin. The liquid would drain and prevent him from imbibing, protecting my secrets from him while I still drank and learned his. If I moved quickly and lightly, he’d never see my tampering. He’d think his basin malfunctioned in some way.
“But now that I reflect upon it, yes,” I said. “I think we should. We are about to become husband and wife. Let’s begin our union with honesty.” I smiled back at Aeric, expecting him to waver.
“I couldn’t agree more,” he said. “Tell me how to do it.”
By the Family, Aeric mystified me. I tilted my head, wondering if he didn’t understand the significance of our plan. He was either the most reckless and idiotic monarch to exist or the most cunning and devious one.
“I’ve never done it before,” I said, “but I know we drink at the same time.”
I waited to see if he’d decline or try to make an excuse for why he couldn’t drink. But he didn’t. He didn’t resist in the least. Instead, he asked, “Do we pick them?”
“By the Daughter, no. We drink from them as they are.” This I somehow knew on an intuitive level. The grave flowers had taught me their own ways. “I imagine they’ll bring the basins to our lips.”
We sank to our knees, side by side. I realized, with a start, that we were in a marrying posture, the sort taken by the bride and groom during the wedding ceremony. Only, we were not set to wed each other. In this moment, we were set to extract the other’s secrets to use as we might. Nerves made my hand shaky. Within the shroud of my skirt, I flicked open the crest of my poison ring. I needed to focus. If I made one mistake and Aeric drank, everything would be ruined. He would knowthe plot. I would be arrested, tried, marched to the block, and executed for all to see. Yet, inexplicably, I dared one quick glance at my betrothed. At the last moment, he returned my gaze.
He winked.
I smirked back despite the dire circumstances.
Then we both turned to the enmities.
A tart scent struck my nose. The basin tipped toward me, gently and slowly, as though careful not to spill a single drop. Quickly, deftly, with speed and accuracy long honed from my years dancing, my finger flashed against the branch holding Aeric’s basin. I stabbed the ring through the petals, its needle slicing easily into the delicate tissue. Aeric, with his head tipped back to drink, couldn’t see. I opened my lips, ready to imbibe. Nothing touched them. I pulled my head back. Liquid drained from my basin, spiraling out from a gash in the bottom. Quickly, I flicked the stem. One tiny drop of nectar sprang up. It landed on my lips, a single bead. I licked it.
It was enough.
Immediately, my mind deadened. I saw inside Aeric’s mind as though it were a drawer I’d pulled open. Fear unspooled from it—cold, despairing, heavy. It wrapped around me until it settled in my chest, a ball of icy hopelessness. I passed through a collection of memories too fast to understand them, each belonging to Aeric. There was a flash of domed bells, the loud snap of a strap, wind whistling through narrow windows. I was within him, seeing with his eyes, thinking with his mind, feeling with his heart. But these memories were private. They didn’t pertain to me, so I was whisked along to the ones that did.
Everything slowed. His hands moved in front of me. I, inside his perspective, stood in front of three costumes hanging from a rod backstage. The costumes had names embroidered across them. One of a prince, which bore the namePrince Lambert.One of a queen, which bore the nameMother.And one of a princess.
A red dress.
Inessa’s dress, the one that haunted me.
It bore my name.Madalina.
Aeric’s hand moved. It took down the queen’s costume. Slowly, he folded it up and brought it to his lips. “I meant to trap you with Lambert, Mother,” he whispered. “Yet you left before I could. Forgive me if I got it wrong.” He set it aside. Then he picked up a cue script. But this one was different than the other script I’d seen. Across the top was a title.A King Betrayed.“I shall avenge you, Father,” he said, hands so tight on the script that the blood drained from his knuckles. “I’ll reveal your murder before the entire court and secure the throne.”
The setting shifted. I was elsewhere inside Aeric’s memories, a stony place up high and outdoors. The palace roof, I realized and—and—there was a figure in the corner.Half hidden behind a guardian. A cloak was pulled over its face. Angry words poured from its lips, hissing.
