Page 18 of Grave Flowers

Morn brought uncertainty.

Queen Gertrude was dead… .

What did that mean for me? Prince Lambert would still want the throne; of that I was certain.

He could, I realized, simply continue his plot.

Once Aeric was dead, he was the next legitimate claimant to the throne as the king’s brother. Everything he’d set in place still worked, so long as I assassinated Aeric.

And so long as Aeric didn’t kill or arrest me first.

I left my chambers and found the palace transformed.

Every portrait of the queen had been taken down so her figure could be rimmed in the same yellow light as the king’s, indicating her passing.

Black mourning tulle, embroidered with pierced beaded red hearts and diamond-shaped gold tears, hung in the halls.

It swathed the mirrors and windows and threw delicate patterns onto the floor as the sunlight streamed through it.

Unease filled the palace.

Servants whispered, and the guards walked with quiet steps.

No one lingered anywhere.

Everyone was easily startled.

It was the sort of behavior you had when someone was ill and you said you didn’t want to disturb them, but in reality, you were terrified of catching their disease.

No one could deny the pattern.

In a short span of time, the king had died, the promised princess bride had died, and now the queen had died too.

All the while, uncannily, weddings interwove with the deaths, with Queen Gertrude marrying Prince Lambert and Aeric’s betrothal to Inessa and then, after she died, me. Everything was inverted in Acus, as though the kingdom were a ship turned on its hull.

A service for the queen was held at the cathedral.

It wasn’t a formal funeral, but death rites were given in preparation for the funeral and burial that would occur after the wedding.

I thought Aeric and I would stand together, but he wasn’t there when I arrived.

I kept glancing at the doors, thinking he would appear.

Queen Gertrude lay in a casket with a domed glass lid.

The casket was engraved with more pierced hearts, tears, and a Pingeran painting of the Mother, who was said to rock us to sleep as we died.

Rouge and powder caked her face to disguise her terrified expression, but it was still there, hardened like wax upon her.

I wished they’d put her in an opaque casket.

People who passed her casket shuddered and whispered the Acusan blessing.

“Light everlasting.”

When my turn came, I tried to hurry past but found myself pausing.

I’d never liked Queen Gertrude.

She disdained my Fely heritage and didn’t bother to be kind to me.

But she’d also striven boldly and avenged the ones she loved. In a way, I was doing the same for Inessa. Staring at her, I noticed her pendant wasn’t a religious token depicting the Family, as I’d assumed. It was a house crest. Swirls wrapped around an M, for Montario. Many years had passed between their executions and the present day, but she’d never forgotten who she was.

“May you swim in salt,”

I murmured.

I returned to my spot.

Aeric still wasn’t there.

By the time the service ended, it was night.

I’d hardly eaten anything the whole day, but I was too exhausted to seek food. I crawled into my bed. Hours passed, each endless. Sleep refused me. A faint shout reached my ears. Alarm spiked through me, reminding me of hearing something amiss last night and the horrific sight of Queen Gertrude dead in her chambers. Perhaps I was imagining it or had actually slept and was having a nightmare. Then another shout—no, actually, it was a song—came, drifting over the balcony from the garden.

I left my bed and went to investigate, pushing out onto my balcony.

I stifled a cry.

The song, a bawdy tavern tune, came from Aeric.

He stood shirtless and holding a bottle of wine, balanced atop the fountain edge next to the starvelings Inessa had planted.

The moon, fainting away in a pinkening sky due to the early hour, formed a circle behind him, telescoping his idiocy.

He’d woken the starvelings.

Angrily, hungrily, they lashed at him. He was a mere foot from them, and the slightest misstep would send him plunging into their grasp. I ran back into my chamber, threw on slippers and a dressing gown over my nightdress to summon help. If my reckless betrothed died by the starvelings’ claws rather than my hand, everything would be ruined. Prince Lambert would likely pin Aeric’s death on me if he fell into the starvelings and was devoured. Not only would it neatly tie off the loose end, but Prince Lambert would no longer have to pay us. And if I miraculously escaped Prince Lambert’s clutches, I’d end up in Father’s instead, a prospect just as terrifying, if not more.

At the door, I paused, my mind split between the urgency of the situation and a new idea.

I’d long needed access to Inessa’s rooms.

It would be audacious to gain it by assisting Aeric back to his and using the discreet hall connecting the king’s and queen’s chambers—but it might just work, especially as his faculties were compromised.

I wavered, uncertain if it was a good plan or merely one made from desperation as time ticked us toward the wedding, which was only two days away.

Another tuneless line from the tavern song reached me, goading me to action.

I had to ensure no one else heard him and offered aid before I did.

I raced down the stairs and out to the garden through the ground floor’s doors.

I slowed my approach. If I startled him, he’d most certainly slip off the fountain edge and fall into the starvelings.

They’d break and bury him, just as they had Luthien.

“Aeric!”

I called in the low, calm voice one reserves for spooked animals.

“Get down.

It’s breezy, and you don’t have a shirt.”

“Nonsense,”

Aeric slurred.

He gestured dramatically, his arm missing the reach of a starveling’s stems by mere inches.

I cringed.

“It’s a … a … beautiful dawn.”

Squinting, he focused on me.

“Most beautiful and … frightening.”

“Whatever are you doing?”

“Admiring the flowers.

Your flowers.

Asking them if I may learn their secrets.”

I bristled.

Was he revealing the fact that he sought to use the grave flowers against me? I crossed my arms tightly over my chest.

My nightdress billowed around me, the early-morning coolness settling against my bare legs.

“They don’t like strangers,”

I said tersely.

“What secrets of theirs do you desire?”

“How to win your love, of course.”

My breath caught, unprepared for him to say such a thing.

I glanced down and then back again as Aeric took another wavering step forward.

“Please get off.

It’s much too dangerous.”

“Ah!”

His blurry gaze lit.

“You—you—”

“I what?”

“You love me!”

He let out a harsh wine-thickened laugh.

“No, no, that’s not right.”

Thankfully, he wasn’t shouting anymore.

I might guide him to his rooms if I could somehow get him down from the lethal ledge.

I surveyed the garden, checking for patrolling guards.

It was empty. Relief came over me, and not simply relief that I might do my task. It surprised me. If I interrogated it truthfully, I’d think I was glad no one else would see him in such a vulnerable state. Despite everything, I felt strangely protective.

“No witnesses?”

Aeric asked from his perch, noticing that I surveyed the garden.

“Whatever do you mean?”

“For when you push me off to be eaten, of course.”

Hearing him speak so blithely about his own murder at my hands sent a jolt through me.

Little did he know that I couldn’t kill him now.

I stared wordlessly at Aeric.

He cast his head back and laughed. Lifting the bottle, he tried to take a drink but faltered and missed his mouth entirely. Wine spilled over his chest, a black torrent instead of red in the poor light.

I realized, suddenly, that he was drunk.

Truly drunk, in a way that went far beyond what I’d seen before.

In fact, it made most of the other instances seem like counterfeits—and maybe they were, all along.

The other times, he’d watched the world, using the guise of wine and merriment as a costume.

Everyone had believed the part he’d offered us and acted to perfection, me included. Now it was as though he’d opened himself up to be watched, no artifice between him and me, not anymore. The bottle slipped from his fingers. One of the starvelings snatched it as it fell. With one clawed compression, it shattered the bottle. The other starvelings convened, swarming over the drops of wine and glass shards.

“If you aren’t careful, you’ll go the same way as the bottle,”

I said, keeping my tone light.

He frowned, sulking over his lost wine.

Then his face brightened, and he pulled a flask from his pocket.

I threw my hands in the air.

“You’re incorrigible.

Please, get off.”

“You’re worried about me.”

A small, pleased—and slightly smug—smile took over his lips.

“You are, may I remind you, standing on a ledge next to some very hungry and dangerous grave flowers.

‘Worried’ is an understatement.”

“It doesn’t make sense.”

“Why not?”

“Because you don’t wish to marry me, and you’d sooner see me plunge to my death than wed me.”

He tossed the accusation to me carelessly.

With even less care, he turned on the ledge.

“I’ll make it easy for you.”

Involuntarily, I took another step forward, holding up a hand as though I might stop him.

To my horror, he strolled forward.

Every step was jerky and uneven, seesawing his body back and forth.

He was going to slip into the starvelings’ claws.

He was going to die.

Without thinking, I hurried to the fountain and hoisted myself onto the ledge with him.

I rose so I might stand opposite him.

We contrasted with the fountain’s unrelenting marble, our hair and clothing supple in the wind and as lithe as the water spurting from the spouts.

Immediate regret choked me as I found my life held to a four-inch spread of marble, the chittering and clicking starvelings slashing at my skirts.

The fountain’s edge was much taller than the one in Radix, and my balance was driven from me.

The wind was no longer playful.

It suddenly had fingers, and they tugged at me, trying to deliver me to the grave flowers. Arches of water flung droplets onto the marble and turned it slippery beneath my slippers. It was more terrifying than the Oscura. There were no rails to cling to, nothing to stop me from tipping into a horrific death. Only my balance could save me from the starvelings.

I glanced down into their flower bed and regretted it.

I’d never been this much at their mercy.

Glass shards dusted their leaves, winking on them like fallen stars.

Their thorns reached for me, lusting for my blood, longing to break my bones and drag me beneath their soil. My hands pawed at the air. Emptiness whooshed through my fingers. Aeric tossed away the flask. His eyes glinted with the same shine as the glass.

“Stop,” he said.

“Why? It’s so lovely up here,”

I choked out through clenched teeth.

I flinched as one of the starvelings’ thorns sliced through my nightdress.

I pulled back my shoulders and lifted one hand over my head and the other to the side, forcing my fingers to curve with grace.

I rose onto my toes.

The posture came naturally to me, my feet seeking it of their own accord despite my precarious spot.

It was a dancing posture, one that required perfect equilibrium. The tiniest flutter of foot or sway of form would cast me to my death.

“By the Family, Madalina, don’t!”

Fear roughened Aeric’s voice.

We stood together on the ledge, but we’d swapped emotions.

Before, I’d been the one terrified of moving too quickly and startling him, the one speaking softly to calm and guide him to my will.

Now he was white with terror, hands helplessly reaching for me and eyes darting about as though he might find a way to save me.

I wondered how much I could push him, how much pain I could tear from him, how much devotion I could demand despite our secrets.

I lifted my arms to the dwindling moon and raised one foot, pointing it, elevating onto the toes of the other.

The starvelings twisted and thrashed, ravenous, determined to reach me.

Aeric let out a cry.

I posed for him, back arched, leg extended. It turned the moment to stone, turned him to stone. He stared at me reverently, fearfully, hopelessly. On the fountain’s edge, he dropped to one knee, and I understood what it was to be the Primeval Family, to be worshipped and dreaded.

“You …”

He trailed off, his voice as shattered as the wine bottle.

“What?”

“You drive me mad.”

I lowered from the pose.

My balance, honed to perfection while dancing, betrayed me as I transitioned back to a relaxed posture.

I stumbled, slippers grappling with the smooth wet marble.

In one motion, Aeric came forward. He grabbed me, pulling me into his arms and throwing us off the fountain together. The blushing dawn and flashing starveling thorns spun through my vision.

We landed in a heap on the grass, just out of the starvelings’ reach.

I found myself against his chest.

Weakly, he released me and pushed himself up.

He was wet with wine, and his skin was clammy. He stared at me, his gaze bleary yet full of pain, as though nothing in the world could dull it.

“I’m surprised you didn’t push me off,”

he mumbled.

His elbows gave out, and he collapsed flat onto his back, staring up at the sky.

“I’m … dizzy.

And everyone is … dead.”

My mind was afire.

I’d gotten him off the ledge.

Now I needed to get him to his chambers in hopes of accessing Inessa’s.

The plan buzzed in my mind, insistent against my other weaker feelings, which might give way to Aeric if I let them. I stood.

“You need rest.”

I took his hand and tugged.

He frowned and shook his head.

I glanced from him to the palace.

“Come, let’s get you to your bed.

Let me help you.”

With a weary sigh, he staggered to his feet.

I pulled his arm over my shoulders and put my hand around his waist.

“Can you walk?”

“Of course I can,”

he said with great indignation.

He took a step in proof but defeated his point by tottering to the side.

I managed to steady him just in time.

Together, we made our way back to the palace.

It was a restless place since Queen Getrude’s death, becoming a ghost of its own, full of eerie sounds and sights.

More guards made the rounds, and their boots echoed from different halls.

Candlelight shone around the closed doors of the throne room, and muffled voices escaped with the candlelight. Prince Lambert was likely holding meetings in secret, reassessing his allies and plotting his next steps.

A guard greeted us outside Aeric’s chambers.

I tried to imperiously wave a hand for him to open the doors and let us by, hoping I might get inside without being questioned.

Aeric, however, seemed to grow slower and more imbalanced by the moment.

“Do you need assistance, Prince Aeric?”

the guard asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, save me,”

Aeric drawled with a lazy, confused smile.

“She’s mad at me.”

“Nonsense,”

I quickly declared.

I addressed the guard.

“Stand aside and tell the servants we won’t require any attendance.

The prince is distressed by Queen Gertrude’s death and seeks comfort.”

The guard’s face relaxed into understanding.

He stepped aside.

We made our way past a series of rooms to the final one, which was the bedchamber.

My eyes swam through it, seeking a door and a door alone. There it was. The private thoroughfare between the king and the queen, manifested in a discreet entry paneled to look like the rest of the wall. My fixation made it loom large in my mind, and I had to refrain from rushing straight to it.

Once I was reassured as to where the door was, I observed the rest of the room.

A bed sat against the wall.

It had a headboard that imitated the Acusan throne—needles forming a nimbus around it, ropes of jewels threaded through them.

Red blankets embroidered in gold trim rivered over the mattress. There was no canopy or cornice. The bed commanded the room in the way the throne did, its design intended to magnify the occupant within it and reflect them as an extension of their kingdom’s power.

Aeric headed to it with the familiarity of a horse to its stall, dragging me along and kicking off his shoes as he went.

He cast himself onto it, and I let myself be pulled onto the bed next to him.

He lay on his side, eyes fluttering shut, head turning against the pillow.

I settled warily against the blankets, facing him while I waited for him to reach deep slumber before I tried the door. Sleep made him honest. No longer did he wear the flirtatious smile or hold himself with his usual nonchalance. His brow pinched, and he stirred restlessly on the pillow, seeking comfort he couldn’t seem to find. Never had he looked so vulnerable or burdened.

One hand rested on the bed near his face, palm up and open.

I could see his scars at my leisure.

It seemed voyeuristic and wrong, yet I drew near.

The skin was more damaged than I’d realized. Some of the scars were quite old, but others were more recent, with newly knitted pink skin. It was easy to see Aeric in the way I knew him: here, in the palace. But he’d only recently returned to it, having been summoned from the monasterium upon his father’s death. Just as I was adrift in a new home, he was too.

He mumbled something.

“What did you say?”

I whispered, leaning close.

There was no response.

I lay back.

Of all places, I hadn’t expected to be here tonight.

But Family fortune had turned to my favor, paving my way straight to the queen’s quarters.

I tried to calm my racing heart.

Paranoia made my nerves flash inside my skin, and I kept imagining Aeric awakening and reaching to strangle me, even as his breathing found the deep, measured pattern of profound sleep. Grimly, I reasoned that just as I had my timeline for his murder, he had one to either kill or arrest me as well, whichever one was his intention.

I turned to watch him again.

Somehow, even as I feared him killing me, I had the desire to push his hair back from his forehead and hum a comforting tune to ease the strain on his face.

I sighed in frustration.

Aeric was the mercenary for his kingdom, just as I was for mine. Why was it so easy to forget?

Under it all, maybe I simply hoped that if I could see beyond someone else’s sins, someone could see beyond mine.

Maybe I hoped I could be loved, despite who I was and everything that I’d done.

I sighed again, but this time it wasn’t in annoyance at myself.

It was a crisp inhale and exhale, more of a breath than a sigh, one to goad me into action.

It was time.

Slowly, I sat up, watching Aeric closely. His head stirred restlessly on the pillow, but his body pressed heavily into the bed, boneless with exhaustion, grief, and too much wine.

On tiptoe, I hurried to the door.

My hand closed around the knob.

I turned it.

It was locked.

ENMITIES

Grave Flower Experiment Seven

Appearance

These grave flowers have two cups extending from one stern.

If you and another person willingly drink from them at the same time, you learn a secret the other is keeping from you.

I’ve done it before with my father and immediately had to kill him afterward because it told him of my plan to take the throne from him.

You will most certainly leave enemies if you use this grave flower.

Behavior without invocation

They make a “shhhhhhh”

sound when you come near, as though telling you to keep a secret, and should you stroll by with a companion, they offer their goblets.

The more bonded you are to the person, the more desperate the enmities are to have you drink, as though pleased to reveal secrets between close friends.

Invocation

If you keep my secret,

I will keep yours.

If I keep your secret,

you will keep mine,

and in that we will find the divine.

Results

I was too nervous to say this invocation and drink from the liquid myself, so I had two guards do it, two who were good friends.

They said the invocation and drank.

Their expressions turned to horror, and they began accusing each other of terrible things—then they stabbed each other through as though driven by one force.

The Fely prisoner mentioned that he thought the grave flower was telling lies about the two guards. My wife, who has been watching lately, was most distressed. The Fely prisoner told her not to worry, and it was comforting for me to hear as well.

Applications

Perhaps if I could orchestrate two enemies taking the drink at once, it might benefit me, since they will destroy each other, but I’m unsure how I would do that since it must be taken willingly.