Page 41 of Grave Flowers
“I should like to hold the play the night of the coronation and wedding,” he said.
A smile played across Prince Lambert’s lips, and he glanced sidelong at Queen Gertrude. “I don’t see why not,” he said, likely only too happy to let Aeric continue making a fool of himself. She let out an annoyed sigh but inclined her head in agreement.
“It might create a difficult schedule,” I said, in one last desperate attempt to help Aeric, though by the Family, he made it nearly impossible. My grip on his hand was nearly iron, but I realized, his own had tensed. Every finger plaited between my knuckles was stiff and insistent, his scars clustered against my skin like mountain ranges. I glanced sharply at him. Was he—was he trying to tellmeto be quiet? When his every word aided his enemies?
“Darlingest dear,” he said in a voice full of doting romance, “I couldn’t stand the thought of you waiting for your wedding gift. I won’t have it.”
“Oh, don’t fret on my behalf,” I responded, matching his tone. Anxiousness filled me. Was there a reason he persisted? I didn’t understand. The play was simply a myth and, from what Sindony said, not a very good one. Yesterday, Aeric had seemed to sense the precariousness of his court. Today, it seemed as though it was the furthest thing from his mind.
“Nonsense!” Aeric said. “I shall very much fret on your behalf. The play shall happen the night of the coronation and wedding.”
“Very well,” I said, trying not to sound exasperated and failing. Prince Aeric dropped my hand. My fingers curled at the sudden emptiness. He stood. “Darlingest dear”—I copied his ridiculous term of affection—“wherever are you going?”
“King-in-councils make me thirsty for something dry.” He stretched as though he’d been confined to the throne for hours, not a mere twenty minutes at most. “Perhaps a white wine today.”
“We’ve only discussed one matter,” I said, noticing how the full general, the one man who still seemed loyal, stared at Aeric in disbelief.
“And we made splendid progress on it.”
“Your Highness—” the head general began, but Aeric cut him off.
“My uncle can brief me later, as he so generously offered to do so. Oh, return these to the theater.” He shrugged out of the robe and cast it onto the lord high treasurer, almost burying him in the fabric. He removed the crown next. My heart skipped a beat. Was he going to give it to his uncle? Instead, he turned to me. Holding it with both hands, he bowed deeply before me with a theatrical flair. I froze.
“Get up.” The two words tore desperately from my throat. I didn’t know what he was doing or why—or how Prince Lambert and Queen Gertrude might interpret it. He set the crown in my lap. The tin made it as light as a feather. But it shone as shiny as the rings on the lord high treasurer’s fingers. Aeric paused, his lips by my ear.
“You said you don’t think of me. Perhaps you should know I think of you.”
Shock ran through me, fear mixing with confusion.
Without another word, my betrothed departed, leaving me with a crown in my lap.
Back in my chambers after the disastrous king-in-council, I went to my vanity. My Radixan perfume, the one made from the grave flowers’ garden rainwater, sat next to the other bottles. I hadn’t sprayed it since arriving. While I was immune to it, anyone who hadn’t been raised in Radix would find themselves snuffling and sneezing if they breathed it in. Carefully, I sprayed it onto my wrists as I waited for Luthien. I inhaled the scent. It transported me home. For a few moments, it felt as though I wandered among my grave flowers.
Soon, though, my mind returned to Aeric. He had more faces than I’d first anticipated—it was as though he were an actor himself, slipping in and out of the masks ringing the theater with the same ease as Inessa. Drunken partier. Steadfast prince. And … another. Something like black ink in clear water—a tendril of smoke, a streak of pure quicksilver.
Uneasiness cut into me, sharper than the edges of the coin. When Aeric had first seen me at the Oscura, he’d said it was his responsibility to make certain everything was safe. I’d brushed him off as being noble, thinking he wanted to make sureIwas safe. But, I realized, that wasn’t exactly what he’d said. He’d said he needed to make certaineverything was safe.From what? From me? Then, at the king-in-council, he’d said he thought of me. Both were affectionate sentiments, but seen through a darker prism, they might easily double as threats.
Knock, knock.
A more pressing circumstance was here. The knock was soft, yet it resounded in my ears. Inside my pocket, the coin was too light to feel, but it had a phantom weight, just like the tin crown. I faced the door but stood well within the chamber.
“Enter,” I called.
A giant bouquet progressed into my room, a bouquet with two lanky legs. The man who held it was entirely obscured, even his arms, which were tucked beneath the canopy of blooms around the mouth of a blue-and-white glazed vase.
“Good midday, Your Highness,” he said. Since he was behind the blooms, it appeared as though they spoke to me. “Where would you like your flowers?”
“Over there, on the side table.” I pointed farther into the chamber. A long nose pressed through the center of the flowers, parting the stems to reveal a face befitting the length of the nose. Two eyes squinted at me and then traced their way to where I pointed. Awkwardly, the man stumbled forward. The width of the vase and bouquet threw himbackward and made him wobble in a way that would have had Rigby frothing at the mouth. With a grunt of effort, he righted himself and managed to lift the display onto the tabletop. He turned, gave a bow, and took a step toward the door.
“Wait,” I said. I took the coin from my pocket and held it out. “A token of gratitude.”
Eagerly, he stepped forward to take it. He plucked the coin up. Before he could withdraw his hand, I caught it and held it, smiling warmly. The toothily jagged coin pressed against his palm, wedged between our hands.
“I hope you know there’s more where this comes from,” I said. “As the soon-to-be queen, I wish to establish a good rapport with everyone who works in the palace. What is your name?”
“Luthien, Your Highness,” he said. He was motionless aside from a twitching around his right eyelid, the thin blue-veined skin closing and opening like a window drape.
“Are you Acusan?”
