Page 38 of Grave Flowers
Sindony lacked as an attendant, but she and the other girls had become experts at creating my requested atmosphere. They never bothered opening the drapes anymore, and they knew I liked the candles farthest from my bedchamber lit. Of their own accord, they’d started whispering when speaking within my chambers, as though they felt the shadows required it.
“The actors are rehearsing the play in the garden today,” Sindony murmured to the others. “Let’s go watch.”
The minute they were gone, I removed the book I’d bought at the Oscura from where I’d hidden it under my bed. Before confronting Luthien, I would find Yorick and give him his gift, cementing our relationship … and ask him for my first favor. I recalled he lived backstage, and as Sindony had revealed, rehearsals were in the garden today. By Family fortune, I could bring Yorick his gift and finally visit the theater for myself.
The theater was close to the ballroom and was the only windowless space I’d encountered in the palace. Gold starbursts were suspended from the ceiling, their patterns replicating our constellations. Red velvet chairs formed concentric arches around the stage, and the carpeted floor sloped steeply. Anything you dropped would roll away, and you were pulled forward by the incline, as though the stage longed to bring you and your trinkets to its edge. Gold masks trimmed in crimson fabric framed the stage. They didn’t simply depict a smile or frown. Every emotion was portrayed, expressions of sweet sadness, frustrated boredom, rageful love.
The light was low but warm, as though it’d alchemized the Pantagen sunlight into golden-black streams. It filled every corner of the theater with the burnished excitement of performances waiting to unfold on the stage—adventures to be had, lovers to be won, spells to be cast and broken.
I made my way up the side of the theater and around to arrive backstage. I was immediately swallowed by a forest of petticoats, suits, gowns, military uniforms, wigs, hats, fake jewelry and weapons, and canes. They burst from racks, hung from mirrors, and were strewn across tables amid pots of cosmetics and sewing supplies. I brushed past most of them easily, the silks, satins, and linens whispering across my skin. Some, though, gouged me with invisible barbs. Hidden needles tacking up hems and cuffs, prongs of gemstones in cheap settings, and edges of beading seemed determined to expel me.
Yorick was tucked in the back corner, almost hidden by a giant prop spider. A book was cradled in his lap, and as he read, he thoughtfully chewed on the tip of his black leather glove. He bent toward the pages as though he wished to enter them entirely. I pushed past a flock of sheep costumes, and he heard my footsteps.
“Good morn, Your Highness,” he said, setting down his book and jumping to his feet.
“I’ve come bearing a gift,” I said.
“A gift?”
“Indeed.”
Yorick stared at me thoughtfully, head tilting to the side. He was savvy. Gifts given at court were never truly free.
I procured the book from my pocket. “This.”
At the sight of the book, he couldn’t help himself. Eagerly, he took it. Flipping it open, he read the inner description and sniffed the pages, eyes lighting up even more at the fresh smell of paper. He glanced at me. “A tragedy, Your Highness?”
“A contrast to your former profession of making people laugh.”
“Satire. I appreciate it. I’ll enjoy it … but may I ask what the reason is?”
“It’s merely a token of appreciation.” I paused, not wanting to corrupt the gift and our rapport by immediately asking for his help. “Is that your room, just over there?”
A narrow door was tucked into the wall, and a living space glimmered behind it.
“It is.” Yorick shoved the door open so I could see more. “Welcome to my coffin. Did you know the theater is right under the throne room? After you’re wed to Prince Aeric, you’ll have important meetings there, and as you do, you can think of my tiny bedroom beneath your feet like a grave.”
I peered inside. Yorick had scavenged branches and used them to make shelves that boasted several books. Blossoms bloomed on the branches, tiny red stars in the dark room. Diaphanous curtains pleated across the ceiling, and an actress’s ornate vanity was pushed into the corner. The bed was covered in a patchwork of silk scarves stitched together.
“I’m surprised the flowers bloom without sunlight,” I said. “It’s comforting to know I’m not the only living thing that thrives in the dark here.”
“I’m sorry to disappoint, but those are Flora 2.359. They generate their own sunlight from within.”
“Ah, yet another shiny, light-ridden thing.”
“But I’m not, Your Highness.” Yorick gestured to his black attire. “So you are not fully alone.”
“It’s true.” I smiled. “Though I realize you already have several books. Perhaps my gift isn’t as special as I hoped it would be.” I picked one up and opened the cover. The Capelian family’s crest flashed in foil on the first page. “Borrowed from the library, I see.”
He was lucky he was here and not in Radix. Our library would give him an apoplexy of the heart.
“I’ll return them, I swear … eventually.” Yorick grinned impishly, making the teardrop tattoos beneath his eyes dance.
“As far as I’m concerned, you can keep them as long as you like.” I closed the book and returned it to the shelf. The room was magical for its coziness. However, I needed to learn more about Yorick, especially if we were going to be close. “Do you have family in Acus?”
“It was only me and my mother for most of my life,” he replied with a shrug.
“Is she here as well?”
