Page 12 of Grave Flowers

TT he next morning, the fake Crusan coin sat on my vanity, but I hardly saw it.

Instead, I tasted the disgustingly sugary drink from yesterday and remembered how Aeric had frozen to my touch when I kissed his bruise.

The memory of him becoming so still made me still too.

Yet even more intense was the recollection of him telling me he’d protect me, as though I were worth keeping safe and …

I stood.

Ruthlessly, I clenched my hand, making my scar burn.

It was enough to bring me back.

Desire could always be fought with pain.

“Sindony?” I called.

“Yes, Your Highness?”

“I would like some fresh flowers from the garden for my chambers.”

I was relieved the task was simple enough that Sindony could accomplish it without any missteps.

My temple still had a mark from where she’d misapplied a hair iron.

I picked up the coin.

Its rusty edges and raised face pressed against my fingers.

“Certainly, Your Highness.”

“But don’t disturb Annia or the more experienced botanists,”

I added, sounding breezy and unconcerned.

“They have enough to do.

Perhaps ask Luthien—that way he won’t be inspired to give tours.

Have him bring them later this afternoon.

I’m heading out now and wish to oversee their arrival. I’m quite particular about my floral arrangements. Then you and the other girls may have the rest of the day for your leisure.”

She nodded and curtsied.

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?”

“No.

She’s gone.”

Raw grief flashed through his face, as though I’d cut back the fragile skin grown over a deep cut.

Hearing that his mother was dead made me see my own mother lying limp in the garden, as though his experience were a cruel hook that dragged up mine.

“It sorrows me to hear it,”

I murmured.

“Better this way,” he said.

“Better?”

“She … had an unhappy life.

We were very poor, and she worked in a brothel in Pingere.

It was run by a cruel man, and she was often visited by an even crueler one.”

He clutched the book I’d given him tightly.

“So I find myself angry with time.

I wish I’d been older sooner.

Stronger sooner.

I could’ve saved her if I’d grown fast enough. But I didn’t. She died when I was nine.”

A well of compassion rose in me, longing to pour over him and wash away the pain.

I, too, knew what it was like to hold the burden of your mother’s death.

It only grew heavier over time, pain settling in like old age to weaken your bones.

“What did you do after she passed?”

I asked gently.

“I ran off.

Came to Acus and learned to read at the free classes offered in the monasterium until I got hired at the royal stables.

Now I spend my time reading as much as I can and avoiding Prince Aeric’s rehearsals… .

They often become like court parties because the actors like to drink. Do you enjoy reading, Princess?”

“I admit I do not,”

I said.

It was true.

Book learning was a privilege, even more so in Radix, where many commoners couldn’t read.

Still, I’d never developed the love.

“By the Family, I don’t know how we shall ever be friends,”

Yorick teased.

“It only means there are more books for you,”

I said.

“I’m happy to give you many.”

“And I’m happy to accept.

In exchange, I’m yours forever and ever.”

I took a breath.

Now was the time.

I needed to request Yorick’s assistance.

“As it so happens, I might need you tonight.”

It was hard to sound calm.

The weight of my task rushed to the forefront of my mind.

“At midnight, in the garden.

If anything changes, I’ll let you know, but will you meet me there?”

Yorick angled his head, causing shadows to pool in the hollows beneath his cheekbones and the sockets of his eyes.

They hid his teardrops.

Only two small ovals of light reflected off his pupils.

I thought he might ask my purpose. Instead, he bowed deeply. When he straightened, his face was somber. It was understandable. It was no small thing to help a Radixan princess in her private affairs. Such things could go wrong. They could end in death.

Resolve settled over me.

I would make certain Yorick was protected, no matter what happened.

“Midnight,”

Yorick said.

“I’ll be there.”

On my way back to my chambers, Sindony intercepted me.

“The prince is having a king-in-council meeting,”

she said.

“He asks if you might wish to join.”

A king-in-council meeting.

I nodded eagerly.

I could witness the politics of Acus playing out before my own eyes.

“Yes, please show me the way.”

I was led up a flight of stairs to the throne room.

I smiled, thinking of Yorick’s magical room beneath it.

The throne room was a much more sober place than the flamboyant ballroom, though the thrones were resplendent.

Delicate prongs formed rays around the backs. They were fashioned after sewing needles but looked like swords. Ropes of gems fed through their loops in an imitation of thread.

Both thrones were empty.

Warily, I settled into the left-hand throne, assuming it was for the consort.

While Aeric was missing, the rest of Acus’s governing bodies were assembled, personified in three stodgy men, their positions denoted by their gold pins.

The lord high treasurer’s pin was a gold coin, the full general’s pin was a sword, and the head monasticte’s pin was a sewing needle in reference to Acus’s holy gifting. A few moments later, the doors opened. I looked up, thinking it was Aeric. Instead, Queen Gertrude and Prince Lambert joined us.

“Where is Prince Aeric?”

Prince Lambert asked, dragging up two chairs from the room’s perimeter, one for him and one for Queen Gertrude.

No one knew.

The king-in-council was missing its king.

Awkward silence descended as we sat, waiting.

How could Aeric be late, especially when he’d invited me to come? I frowned. Perhaps he was trying to use lateness as a statement, but by the Family, I couldn’t see the benefit. It made him appear disinterested in his own rule and gave others time to speak without him.

“I think we should begin,”

Queen Gertrude said.

She regarded the council evenly.

However, her gaze skipped right over me.

“Without the prince?”

the full general asked.

“I can relay our discussions to my nephew later,”

Prince Lambert said, reaching over to take Queen Gertrude’s hand.

She allowed it.

“And I think I can guide our time accordingly.

I am, after all, the late king’s brother.

Aeric was raised at the monasterium, but I’ve lived at court my entire life.”

“It’s true.

You know our ways intimately,”

the lord high treasurer said.

His agreeability caught my attention.

Several gold rings adorned his fingers.

They had the shine of new alloy and didn’t have a single nick or scratch from use. Had Prince Lambert bribed him for support to prepare the court to accept him as king once Aeric was dead? Queen Gertrude had just received access to her family’s wealth. Clearly, it was being put to use.

“It is not uncommon for a crown prince to spend his formative years at a monasterium,”

the head general pointed out.

“I recall King Claudius wishing that Prince Aeric be raised apart from the lavish lifestyle of court so he might hone his virtue first.”

“Yes, my brother did say such things,”

Prince Lambert said.

A muscle in his cheek twitched, but he spoke smoothly.

“I think he failed to realize the impact of keeping a young man locked away with nothing but prayers to pass the time.

It’s no wonder Prince Aeric has plundered the palace’s wine cellars, now that they are at his disposal.”

Suddenly, the door flung open.

Aeric strode in, several actors from the play following in his wake.

I stared, shocked as I realized Aeric not only wore a crown but a king’s coronation robe.

“Your Highness,”

one of the actors said, coming to walk alongside Aeric.

“I fear I do not understand my motivation enough.

Perhaps we might develop my backstory.

Something to indicate I’m the chosen one.

Oh, I’ve thought of just the thing! My parents are dead—ah, yes, that’s it.”

“Prince Aeric!”

The head monasticte surged to his feet.

“What do you wear upon your head? During your period as ruler prevailing, you may not wear a crown.

It defies the holiness of the crowning rite and anointment …”

Aeric grandly removed the crown and tapped its side.

Tin.

It was fake, a costume.

The robe was as well. I thought he’d set the crown aside and sit, but to my shock, Aeric returned the crown to his head, tilting it rakishly to the side. Catching my eye, he held his arms out to the sides, inviting me to admire him. I nearly turned away in indignation but stared, filled with mesmerized horror.

“Oh, what a glorious day it is!”

another actor cried, still in character.

“Though I wonder at the whispers of betrayal winding through the wind—wait, air … hmm, was it wind or air?”

“Perhaps we should dismiss the troupe, Prince Aeric? We have many things to discuss today,”

the full general said.

Prince Lambert, Queen Gertrude, and the lord high treasurer sat back, simpering, pleased to watch Aeric make a fool of himself.

I noticed the monasticte did as well.

Had they already gotten to him too?

“Very well.”

Aeric motioned for the actors to leave.

He threw himself down into the throne in the way one does a comfortable settee.

No longer did he smell of the court party.

For once, only the freshness of soap struck my nose, combined with newly mown grasses. He turned to me. The bruise from the Oscura had settled into a deep purple and added a curious jaggedness to his face, especially when combined with the tilted crown. I felt as though I could stare at him for a long time and never become bored.

“Princess,”

he said in greeting.

He didn’t say my as I’d requested.

Strangely, though I’d deprived him of its use, the possessive proceeded my every thought about him—my betrothed—when it couldn’t be further from the truth.

He wasn’t mine. He was Radix’s target and as such, he would be dead soon.

“Prince,”

I returned.

“You look … theatrical.”

“They needed an extra body for costume fittings,”

Aeric said, as though it were standard for a monarch to be used as a mannequin.

“Though perhaps you think the costume doesn’t suit me?”

“I …”

Aeric’s lethargic smile was in place, yet the question was unmistakably pointed.

“You wear the crown very well.”

What was I saying? I wasn’t supposed to be empowering Aeric, especially not in front of my allies.

Anxiously, I cast a glance at Prince Lambert and Queen Gertrude.

Prince Lambert was distracted, but Queen Gertrude’s eyes caught mine with the heat of a blue flame.

While she hadn’t deigned to give me her attention before, she certainly did now.

I raised my chin.

I couldn’t back down. If they questioned me about it later, I’d say I was only establishing goodwill with Aeric—and part of me was glad to rankle Queen Gertrude.

“But it’s crooked.”

Rising, I turned to him.

I reached down with both hands to adjust the crown.

It put his face mere inches from mine, so close that I might brush his bruise with my lips again if I wished.

He stared back at me but remained at ease between my hands, not a single muscle tensing or flexing. Flirtation filled his eyes, draining them of any substance. I released the crown and returned to my throne.

“Well, then.”

Prince Lambert smiled.

“We can begin.

General Duren has some proposals, though I was thinking perhaps he might recount them to me first, and I could summarize them for you later, Nephew.”

My breath caught.

Prince Lambert was inserting himself between Aeric and the full general.

I glanced at Aeric, wondering if he’d allow it.

“The play,”

Aeric interrupted.

“I beg your pardon?”

Prince Lambert’s smile was still in place, but he blinked in confusion.

“I wish to speak about the play.”

“Whatever for?”

Queen Gertrude asked.

“How does it concern your council?”

“Well, for one thing, I wish to use funding for it.

Make it truly remarkable and invite everyone, both the court and the commoners.”

I tried to keep from wincing.

Kings often enjoyed dazzling their kingdoms with spectacular displays but not during royal mourning.

It would offend more than it would ingratiate, especially since King Claudius had been a beloved king.

“I was thinking ten thousand coins, perhaps?”

A collective gasp sprang through the chamber.

“Ten thousand coins?”

The lord high treasurer gaped.

“Prince Aeric, please remember we still have the coronation and wedding ceremonies to fund.”

“You can’t possibly be serious—”

Prince Lambert began.

“Oh, but I am.”

It was a preposterous statement.

Aeric leaned back in his throne, swathed in his costume robe, the tin crown still slightly askew on his head.

I couldn’t have imagined a more unserious figure if I’d tried.

I reached over and took Aeric’s hand. An opportunity had just presented itself, one for me to benefit Radix and perhaps preserve some of Aeric’s dignity before I killed him. He startled at my touch, and for a moment, I thought he might pull his hand away. I was surprised. This whole time, he’d been so flippant, yet he jerked within the throne at my contact, as though distressed by it. His scars were textured under my fingers.

“Perhaps we might say the play is a wedding gift to me,”

I said.

The blue flare of Queen Gertrude’s eyes intensified.

“Whatever funds were allocated for the wedding gift may be used for the play.”

“But—”

Aeric began, and I gripped his hand, trying to shut him up.

“Using the play as a wedding gift would prevent the need for actual wealth to be transferred to Radix,”

I said, staring evenly back at Queen Gertrude.

Wedding gifts were traditional, given before the wedding to the bride’s family or, in my case, kingdom.

Full sets of jewelry, custom-made furniture, or commissioned paintings were common.

If we received a large wedding gift on top of the funds Queen Gertrude was secretly allocating to us once I assassinated her son, they might demand it back after I was sent home. I could already see Father refusing to return it or immediately selling it so we didn’t have to. It would be important to sever every obligation between us and Acus so we could interact without indebtedness.

“We are a proud kingdom, and I speak for all Radixans when I say we would prefer it.”

“Surely King Sinet would rather a gift than a play,”

Queen Gertrude said.

Usually, she stroked her necklace, but now she gripped it, fingers reddening with the effort.

I tensed.

Perhaps she and Prince Lambert wished to have more sway over us than they’d disclosed.

“A play would be best, I should think,”

I said firmly.

“Allow Prince Aeric to run it however he sees fit.

Though perhaps it should be performed after royal mourning and the wedding so everyone may settle.”

I’d been holding Aeric’s hand tightly, trying to keep him quiet.

His fingers had been limp, but at that, he suddenly interlaced his hand with mine.

“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 tell me to 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 sure I was safe.

But, I realized, that wasn’t exactly what he’d said. He’d said he needed to make certain everything 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 him backward 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?”

“No, I’m originally from Crus but came here to make better money.”

“And you work in the garden?”

Just as Luthien couldn’t stop the twitch in his eye, I couldn’t hide the tautness in my tone.

Our bodies both seemed to have delicate inflection points, giving away beneath our secrets despite ourselves.

“I’m wondering—how would one enter the garden at midnight? I assume it’s locked securely?”

His eyes, as green as springtime grass, stared down his long nose at me, as though it were a guiding line of sight.

“The garden is locked to the public, but you may still gain entrance to it from inside the palace on the ground floor.

You may also ask the prince if you’d prefer to have a different entrance unlocked.

He would order to have you let in, I’m certain.”

“Oh.”

I gave a fake laugh.

I made it sound as hollow as an empty cask.

It was easy to sound like I was lying because our whole exchange was based on lies.

Little did he know, though, which lie was which.

“I’d rather not bother him.

I wish for some solitude amid the flowers.

Nothing more than that.

Thank you. The ground floor, you say?”

“The ground floor,”

he affirmed.

His lid continued to jump, practically swallowing the white orb of the eye only to release it seconds later.

“If you wish for privacy, the guards make rounds through it only twice.

At nightfall and at the dawn hour.”

“Wonderful.”

I released my top hand first and then the bottom one.

Luthien’s fingers closed around the coin, and he slipped it into his pocket—but not before I saw that his palm was unblemished from the tarnished coin.

“Please tell Annia I’d love to meet with her tomorrow to discuss the care of my belated sister’s starvelings.

It’s of the utmost importance, as I’m afraid they haven’t received the proper treatment.”

“I certainly will.”

“Thank you again.

You may go.”

He bowed, backed up a few steps, and then turned and briskly left the chamber.

I walked over to my new bouquet.

The Acusan flowers reeked of sugared fruits and honeyed frostings.

My hand moved of its own accord.

I tore two of the petals off and crushed them hard in my hand.

There.

The scent was stronger and more complex when compressed and forced from its natural state. Just like me. Taken aback by my own action, I released the petals. I looked at myself in the mirror. A flush suffused my face.

Luthien was lying about who he was.

Annia said he’d started at the palace after the announcement of Inessa’s betrothal.

His hand was unaffected by the coin.

What’s more, when my wrists, laden with Radixan perfume, had come close to him, he hadn’t sneezed once. He wasn’t from Crus; he was from Radix.

My kingdom, it seemed, had followed me here.

There was yet another test, a final confirmation.

If he was Inessa’s killer, or a renegade of some sort, he would act in accordance with his role.

Knowing I would be alone and seeking solitude, he would come to the garden tonight.

Perhaps to spy on me; perhaps to kill me.

No matter what his motive, I would be ready.

LOST SOULS

Grave Flower Experiment Five

Appearance

These blossoms look most like chandeliers, with several pendants hanging from one central stem.

Each blossom is heart shaped and has two red petals, two black petals, and two pink petals.

A gold stamen extends from the center.

They are a wistful type and always seem a little sad.

Behavior without invocation

When you walk by them, they often turn all red or all black or all pink.

They also, though, tend to get quite confused.

They forget which way is up and which way is down and sometimes tear their petals off, burrowing in the soil because they think it’s the way to the light.

Invocation

You will not always be lost.

(Simple! I like it!)

Results

For such wistful flowers, they took a bloody turn.

They grabbed the prisoners’ arms and legs and pulled in opposite directions until… pop! Arms and legs and torsos were everywhere.

An arm was flung at me, and it knocked my crown off! Perhaps the meaning is deeper.

Perhaps they are supposed to help you find your way by showing what’s in your heart. Because, as I watched those bodies being torn in two, I couldn’t help but be a little bored. It turned my thoughts inward, and my true desire solidified within me. I do wish to be king forever and never die. Also, the Fely prisoner arrives tomorrow, and I look forward to seeing what insight he might offer into the grave flowers and this quest of mine.

Complications

Once again, there simply is no way to control these beasties! And they were strong.

They began to climb up to me, which was quite terrifying, but at the last moment, they became confused and went sideways instead.

I don’t understand.

Why does the Primeval Family torment by giving me these grave flowers but no way to properly use them? It’s not fair, not fair at all. If I were an immortal king, I would replace the need for the Primeval Family, and everyone could worship me. Hmm, I’ll have to research starting a new religion and how one does that.

Applications

If there were a way to control them, it’d be wonderful to set them in opposite directions to create hoists for construction.

We could add onto the palace! I’d love a new wing to store my night robes.

I must admit, though, I am growing weary of seeing the possibilities of power with no way to harness it.

It’s like being offered everything and nothing at once. It drives me mad.