Page 82 of Grave Flowers
Underground grave flowers. I’d never considered such a thing. I tried to think. Immortalities … experiments … Mother. Every time I pried further into Inessa’s death, I found shocking truths, and each revelation left me more disoriented than the one before. I felt wounded, deep inside, where you couldn’t see, only feel. I didn’t understand who was to blame for the wounding. Not Mother, who’d tried to protect us. Not Father, who didn’t know half the things I did now. Not Inessa, who’d lost her life trying to … what?
“I need air,” I said abruptly. “And time to think.”
I suspected all the time in the world wouldn’t make things clearer or easier. The kitchen windows overlooked a small courtyard centered in the cell. I stepped out and found myself in a grave flower garden. Several fancy bathtubs with elaborate feet were used as flower beds. Some of the tubs were copper, and others were porcelain. One of the porcelain tubs was hand-painted with delicate pink and blue blossoms. The feet were different on each bathtub. Some had pointed clawed paws and others were human. The farthest one even had two feet at each corner, for a total of eight.
All the grave flowers were quite young, I noticed. In fact, they must have only recently been planted because most were mere seedlings, similar in height and width to the ones growing in the pots in the kitchen. Tiny starvelings budded in one tub, their thorns no longer than my pinkie nail. Next to them, lost souls were so juvenile that their petals were still the color of blush, and they didn’t have the ability to turn red or black. The largest grave flowers were enmities. They, at least, were big enough to have their budded cups. And, I noticed, they were filled with liquid. Alifair watched me from the kitchen door. His mournful hum drifted from his lips.
“Hello, then,” I whispered to the grave flowers, trying to find comfort in them lest I crumble away beneath the weight of everything. I spoke louder to Alifair. “I’ve never seen enmities with liquid in their cups. The other grave flowers are always thirsty, so they drink it.”
“Ah, ah.” Alifair joined me in the garden, fingers still combing through his beard. “I’ve heard the royal grave flower garden is quite … chaotic.”
It was true, but the word rubbed me wrong.Chaoticsounded meaningless, as though there was no thought or purpose to our garden. Certainly, it was a raucous mess, but for its disorder, it was a bastion of formlessness, and anything might rise from that.
“Did you know there’s a story in Fely lore about enmities?” Alifair asked. “Everyone thinks they are called that because when you learn the secrets someone is keeping from you, you hate them. Friends turn tofoes, and animosity grows. But our stories say that they weren’t originally enmities. They were amities, which means ‘friendship.’”
“Friendship?” I asked dubiously, thinking of both Aeric and Yorick. “After learning secrets a friend has kept from you?”
“Indeed,” Alifair said. Finally, he started curling the ends of his beard again, returning its dapperness. “The thought is that true friendship is formed when you fully know someone and love them still.”
The thought was absurd. Every family secret I learned pushed me further away from them. Now there was so much distance between us, I didn’t even recognize or trust my own experiences of Mother, Inessa, and Father. I thought briefly of Aeric, about the secrets I had from him and the ones he had from me. We’d be free of our deceptions only when one of us was dead.
“Once, long ago, the grave flowers were created for good purposes that were corrupted over time. But now it’s impossible to be truly at peace with them.”
“Impossible?” I echoed. “But you live with them here.”
“I’m only able to because they are so young,” Alifair said. There was no hesitation in his voice. “If I let them grow too much, they’ll slaughter me and take over the isolation cell because it’s so small. The royal garden in Radix is big enough to let them grow to their natural size and thrive on their own.”
“And you …”
“Kill them before they are too big.” I saw his teeth again, but it wasn’t in a smile. It was in some weird flinch of the mouth. “And then regrow them. I’ve learned much about them that way, though. I harvest their nectar and give some to the other monastictes to sell to the Oscura. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be allowed to stay. Most of the monastictes don’t know I’m here, but the ones who do demand compensation for their discretion.”
“Oh,” I said. I stared at the grave flowers. They were so small, so unlike themselves in this vulnerable, young state. “There isn’t anotherway?” I couldn’t stop the shudder passing over me as I stood among grave flowers that would never truly become themselves.
“No,” Alifair said with finality. “Might I add, Princess Inessa did not share your sensitivities in her letters.”
There it was. My weakness setting me apart from my family. But in this instance, I did not care. I made myself refocus. “You said Inessa signed her letters in my name,” I said. “Do you know why?”
“Agathine gave me two responses, one for each daughter.” He held out both hands. “If you wrote to me, I was instructed to tell you whatever you asked.” He lifted his right fingers. “If Princess Inessa wrote to me, I was not to tell her anything.” He closed his left fingers. “You see, Agathine worried about her. She thought once Princess Inessa was queen, she would use knowledge of the grave flowers to strengthen her rule, no matter how cruel. She thought Princess Inessa was like King Sinet.”
“Soulless?” I asked.
“No, no,” Alifair said. He clasped both hands together, reconciling them. “She never described them as soulless. She described them as people born with their hearts broken into two pieces. Agathine wished she knew a way to bring the two parts together but said she never found one.”
From within the kitchen, the grate screeched, startling Alifair and me, followed by footsteps heading toward us.
Aeric appeared in the kitchen doorway to the garden like a vision. I started at the sight of him, my mind not prepared yet to see him. Acusan fashions were already miniscule, but he always made them more so, even in a monasterium. His sleeves were pushed up to his elbows, and his collar was undone. I stiffened. What might he think of Alifair, and how might I justify my appearance here?
“Stop, stop! Who are you?” Alifair cried. His voice, unused to being raised so high, cracked.
“It’s Prince Aeric, the reigning monarch,” I said, hastening to explain so Alifair might show proper deference and buy myself time to plan mynext lies. It worked. Alifair’s lips parted in shock, creating an opening in his beard. He bowed, deeply, and when he straightened, fear swam through his eyes.
“Forgive me, Your Highness,” he said. “I’ve been in holy isolation for more than half my life. I did not recognize you because you’re grown.”
“Think nothing of it,” Aeric said. He addressed me, voice full of charm yet underscored with suspicion. I tried to regard him calmly. “I inquired as to where you were, and no one knew, though a neophyte said you asked about holy isolation.”
“As I reflected upon our forthcoming marriage, I decided it best to seek spiritual counsel,” I said smoothly. “Who might be more attune to the divine than a monasticte devoted to such a sacred quest?”
Aeric’s lips twitched. I knew he didn’t believe my lie, but he didn’t seem upset by it. In some ways, strangely, he knew me well. Similarly, I knew him well, our knowledge of each other formed around our secrets. “How inspiring that you’ve suddenly developed an interest in our faith,” Aeric said. “But perhaps there’s more to it?” He turned to Alifair. “Who might you be?”
