Page 91 of Grave Flowers
“Ah, young love,” the monasticte said with a gentle smile. He addressed us both softly. “May your marriage be held in light everlasting and may the same light shine upon your children and your children’s children.” Next to me, Aeric once again faced the altar. All I could see in my peripheral vision was his jaw tightening and releasing, over and over. The monasticte raised his voice. “Hand me the crown.”
As Aeric’s wife, I was queen consort but not in title yet until I was crowned. A crown embellished with red diamonds, rubies, and garnets was brought to him on an equally red pillow. Rationally, I knew hands carried it, but somehow it seemed to glide through the air, as though seeking my head. Aeric stepped back, and I knelt. The montasticte raised it high.
The crown hovered above me, narrowing the cathedral’s vaulted ceiling to one perfect gold circle. Swiftly, he lowered it and settled it onto my head. Unlike the wedding ceremony, there was no unknown, ephemeral switching from one state to another. Once the crown was on my head, I was queen consort in every sense, with all associated rights and titles. I wasn’t prepared for its weight. It made me shift, straighten, and stiffen, as though my very physicality had to alter, as though every thought in my mind must now be encircled by the band of gold around my forehead, decisions made not for me but for others. Deep inside, I knew it wasn’t truly my crown. My true crown was in Radix, and I’d wear it someday. It had twisting grave flowers crafted from filigree. The crownI wore now—even though I wouldn’t wear it long—was a precursor to my flower crown, and I’d use it to protect Radix with my life.
Despite everything, despite my weakness, despite my aims for nothing more than petals and soil, I was queen consort of Acus, and, after Father died, I’d be queen regnant of Radix.
I was whisked away to change into my second look of the day. My wedding gown, now that it’d gone through the sacred rite, wouldn’t be washed or ever worn again. Instead, it would be installed in a vault with wedding gowns worn by queens before me. Funnily enough, those were among the few things in Acus that needed protection from the sunlight. Gwenllian and the other sewists had tears in their eyes as I stepped out of it, and they saw it one last time before it was taken away. Luckily, my undergarments remained, meaning I didn’t have to switch the vial. A nude dress adorned with pinky-red lace was slipped over my head and I was sent to supper, which was scheduled earlier than usual as there had been no time for anyone to eat the midday meal. A matching shoulder-length red veil trimmed in lace was fixed to my hair.
Prince Lambert, Aeric, Father, and I settled into our chairs in the dining hall for the wedding feast, and the servants hurried to bring out platters. For the rest of the week, feasting was planned for the entire court. However, once Aeric was dead, there would be nothing but a frenzy that would reach to the ends of Minima. I fought off a shudder. That would happen only if he didn’t arrest me first.
The supper was an extravagant display. A marzipan warhorse reared in the center, and an assembly of egrets, herons, and swans were served, birds of flight condemned to our teeth.
Father was skeptical at the lack of forks, his mouth twisting mirthlessly as he poked at his food with the rounded spoon. Wordlessly, I passed him a bowl of salt, which was put at my place for every mealdue to my constant requests for it. Aeric seemed as anxious as I. He clutched his spoon, using it to move the food around his trencher but never bringing any to his mouth.
“King Sinet, we are honored to have you.” I thought Aeric’s obvious worry would reflect in his voice, but his tone was light and breezy, as though he hadn’t a care in the world. “Tonight, I am excited to present a play.”
“A play?” Father echoed. He abandoned the spoon to tear meat from the unfortunate swan with his hand. There was the crack of delicate bone, and Father’s hand came away with the snowy white of the swan’s tender meat, its downy feathers, and the bone itself. He dredged the drumstick through the salt bowl, sucked the meat free in an effective slurp, and cast the bone back onto the platter, returning it to the swan he’d torn it from.
“Indeed,” Aeric said. “It’s a wedding gift to Madalina.”
My heart plummeted. Father scowled, angry to hear our wedding gift was of no monetary value. I waited, wondering if Aeric might say I’d suggested it and turn Father’s displeasure against me.
“The cast and I have been working tirelessly on it.” I hid a sigh of relief. “Now, if I may, I’d love to share just how special the performance is to me and my intents behind it. One may think of the theater as the most transient of artistic pursuits. It only exists so long as it is being performed, rendering it reliant upon time, place, and persons, both actors and attendees.”
Aeric paused.
I thought he was finished, but it turned out he was only beginning.
He spoke passionately about each criteria he’d mentioned. Time, place, and persons all got their lengthy due. Prince Lambert stared at him in confusion. Father pretended to listen for the first few minutes and then, once Aeric concluded his thesis on the role of persons in theater and began another on costuming, rose and paced. I watched, disconcerted and, despite myself, bizarrely amused. This was an unusual showof power but an effective one. As the preeminent monarch present, Aeric forced both his enemies to indulge his prattle. It was a truer show of force than any I’d witnessed before, yet one devoid of weapons and bluster.
“My dear,” I interrupted. Aeric, midsentence, abruptly stopped. His attention jumped to me, enigmatic and removed. “I noticed the play is set in the royal garden. Why so?”
Picking up his goblet, Aeric tilted it sloppily in my direction. Red drops of wine splattered the tablecloth. He smiled blearily at me.
“For you, of course. Because you love flowers.” Without waiting for a response, he took a long drink and continued where he’d left off, monologuing about whether special effects reflected directorial insecurity. I sat back. I’d been certain Aeric had a reason behind this prolonged supper, but, as his words grew thick and his speech slurred, I questioned. Maybe he truly did have grandiose ideas of himself as a director. The more I knew him, the less I seemed to. One thing I did know, though:
Either he would die tonight, or I would be arrested.
Both were equally repugnant to me. I didn’t wish to kill Aeric. In fact, if it weren’t for the vial digging into me and Father’s relentless gaze, the plan would almost seem like a nightmare. I kept feeling as though I’d wake from it at any moment and only the good parts would remain. I was his wife. I was safe. My sister didn’t wish to destroy me.
But nothing could be further from the truth. If I avoided Aeric’s trap, he’d be dead before sunrise. And if I didn’t, I’d be jailed by his hand.
When the servants cleared away our trenchers, Aeric stood and hoisted his goblet high.
“We shall away!” he cried. “To the play!”
Prince Lambert, smiling through clenched, wine-stained teeth, raised his empty goblet in response. Father didn’t bother. Aeric, though, wasn’t looking at them. He looked only at me. I picked up my own goblet. The interlude was over. There were things I needed to do before the play began, all while waiting for Inessa to show her hand so I mightmetaphorically stab it through and save myself from being switched with her. Every thread of my life now wound about one spool. Before the night was over, I’d know the outcome of it.
Hiding my fear and preparing to face my fate, I lifted my goblet. I returned Aeric’s gaze and said,
“To the play!”
The court waited in the theater, the red seats filled with bodies in equally red clothing, everyone eager to please Prince Lambert and King Aeric and show their allegiance to Acus by wearing the kingdom’s color in the presence of a foreign king. Wine, also on the vermillion spectrum, flowed and goblets teemed with it, making it look like every hand clutched a long-stemmed red flower. The other times I’d been in the theater, it had been only me and Yorick, and those times had been precious to me … until I’d learned Yorick was a ghost and searched for him, only to find every trace of him gone.
Now the theater writhed like a moving river, currents of people sidestepping to reach seats or pushing up the sides to get more wine or waving to people they knew. The royal announcer declared our presence, and they fell into a restrained quiet, their ruddy cheeks, flashing eyes, and wine-stained lips already flushed by merriment. Whatever personal tragedies troubled the rulers of Acus, the people were always their own self-consumed entity. A few moments later, they were loud once again. I searched the faces, noting where the full general sat, along with the head monasticte and the treasurer, their fingers flashing with their new rings. There were also guards at the doors, which was abnormal. I suspected Aeric would say they were there for extra security after Queen Gertrude’s death, but I knew they were present so Aeric might order them to arrest Prince Lambert and me after the play, if things went according to his plan, which I would attempt to thwart.
I stopped as Aeric, Prince Lambert, and Father proceeded toward the royal box. I had only one chance to prevent myself from being portrayed in the play.
