Page 5 of Grave Flowers

Preparations to send me as a replacement bride moved quickly because Father moved quickly.

He was at odds with time, always trying to hunt it down and make it submit to his will.

In the instance of my betrothal, he moved so quickly, you’d think he could be in two places at once, popping up to announce one plan had been set and then appearing from the opposite doorway to announce another had been as well.

By contrast, I felt pinned in place, especially today.

We met in the library, and Father wandered around the shelves while I stood silently to the side.

I never willingly visited the library.

My nose wrinkled at the smell of decomposition. It was a squalid, festering place, destroyed by moisture. We had an impressive collection of books for a kingdom such as ours, but they were ruined. The books and pamphlets—most printed, though we had a few older hand-scribed tomes—were swollen and warped; the text blurred into illegibility. Moldy leather spines clung to their books by threads, cockeyed and askew. Spores speckled the books’ pages and salt crystals encased them. Waterveins grew around the books, their vines and blossoms twining up the spines and through the pages like worms through apples. The library was on Father’s list for fixing, but until then, it made for a discreet meeting place, as Father preferred to keep the hidden passages to himself.

“For you.”

Father held out a corked vial.

“After you prick Prince Aeric with your ring and he dies, you’ll apply this to both your mouths.

Just be certain to apply the majority to him and only a bit to yourself.

Have a seamstress sew it into a gown and hide it well until you need it.”

Cautiously, I took the vial.

It was filled with an uninspiring liquid.

Fuzzy green specks floated in it.

I twisted it up and down, making the bubble inside it flee from one end to the other.

“Will it hurt me?”

“It’ll only turn your lips blue,”

Father said.

“and make you foam at the mouth a bit.

Nothing too awful.”

“How alluring,”

I said dryly, trying to appear at ease as I held the vial, though nothing could be further from the truth.

I’d never been less at ease in my entire life.

Or more scared.

“Now, listen closely—there’s much for you to learn and hardly any time.

Prince Aeric was sent away to a monasterium far from the palace at a very young age to be educated by the monastictes.

They were given authority over him and treated him as any other neophyte.”

Father poked one of the books, then frowned as the spine detached completely and dropped to the floor.

“King Claudius was said to visit and write often.

Upon King Claudius’s death, Aeric moved back to the palace, which was only two months ago.

It is a new home to him.

This is good. He has inherited allies loyal to his father, but he hasn’t had the time to build true friendships himself.”

I nodded, listening closely and trying to commit everything to memory.

There was so much of it, and I was still dazed by the drastic turn of events.

The more Father told me not to forget things, the more forgetful I seemed to be.

All the information scattered through my mind with the disorder of windblown leaves. I tried to think of Inessa and remember my true purpose: I had to do this and uncover her killer while I did. She would be in Bide forever if I didn’t.

“Do you … do you know the nature of King Claudius’s death?” I asked.

Father smiled, a touch of pride in his face.

“Let’s just say Queen Gertrude and Prince Lambert inquired about our moonrain after the Oscura tipped them off.

Acusan physicians aren’t aware of it or its signs.”

As a child, I’d had nightmares about being poisoned with moonrain, especially after witnessing Father test it as a form of execution, one he’d then given up in favor of the theatricality of the executioner’s block.

Moonrain was a discreet poison and left only the thin outline of crescents on the victims’ fingernails, but it acted so quickly, it was horrifying to behold.

It was like seeing a candle blown out, but without any smoke rising from the wick in the aftermath.

The victim was alive and then, suddenly, not.

“They are a lucky pair,”

Father continued.

“Acus is much more malleable than Radix.”

I nodded.

Acus’s motto was we shine.

It was meant to be rousing, but I always heard it in my head with an exclamation point at the end, which turned it into a happy, silly saying.

Father went on.

“The Acusans are dulled by too much sun, unlike here, where we are born with salt water in our veins and curses on our lips.

I can only hope our people don’t try to kill me off before the job is done.

I plan to stay very cautious and very out of reach until you return.

I’ll remain out of sight, shall only drink water I’ve drawn from the common well myself, and eat the siege rations I have hidden away in my chambers lest I be poisoned.”

His approach was vastly different than the last time our people had been unhappy with him.

Father had tried to stomp out the unrest through force alone but only stoked their ire.

Fines, arrests, confiscations, tortures, whippings, and executions provided oxygen to a rapidly spreading fire.

When the revolt was finally over, many had been killed—Mother included.

I thought about the overdone fish served to me this morning by the cooks, the sudden yet very extreme incompetence of my girls, and the nobles pretending not to see me pass so they didn’t have to bow.

Messages all.

Warnings.

Threats. Radix knew its liberty was at risk, so it lashed out. I couldn’t blame them, not when I longed for freedom so deeply myself, but it was frightening to be responsible for safeguarding it. Any wrong moves from this point onward would prove fatal. For Inessa, for Father, for Radix, for me.

“Anyways,”

Father continued.

“your focus is Prince Aeric alone.

Know this: If he learns you were sent to kill him, he will have you arrested and put on trial, after which he will have you executed.”

“Terribly romantic,”

I dared to joke.

Father’s frown deepened.

“What did you say?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing at all.

I was jesting.”

Clearly, I’d said something wrong, even though I wasn’t certain what it had been.

My hands twisted anxiously together.

“You mentioned romance.”

“As a jest,”

I reiterated.

“A mere jest.”

“Heed my words.”

Father continued to roam around the shelves, disorienting me as he passed quickly from one to the next.

“You cannot fall in love with this boy.”

“Of course I won’t, Father.”

Fall in love? I hadn’t even considered the possibility.

“I’m going to kill him.

For our house and for Radix.”

“There are many risks in you going.

You carry one of the biggest inside you.”

Father’s words darted out like slashes from a knife, whittling me away into the hollow form he believed me to be: one flawed and too imbalanced to stand alone.

“You carry a heart and always have.

Stab it through as quickly as you can with ambition and let your notions of love bleed out.

Everything relies on you—our independence, our future.

If you do not execute the plan, you may not have a home to return to.”

“I will do my best, Father.”

“Your best?”

My fear deepened at the change in his tenor.

“If you fail because of some weakness on your part, some sentimentality or fantasy of love for the prince, there will be consequences.

Dire consequences.”

Terror wriggled inside me like a fish caught on the sand, unable to breathe, unable to do anything but flop and flip.

“Do you understand?”

I opened my mouth.

I needed to throw myself on his mercy and tell him I wasn’t the right one to do this, as he suspected.

“Do you understand?”

I’d thought I’d put myself into a smaller cage because my new role put me at the center of attention, a spot so observed that I could do nothing but stay still as everyone whirled around me.

But the cage wasn’t small.

It was big, so big that it encompassed the future of kingdoms and crowns, and Father held the latch, keeping me inside.

There was no escape.

No return.

Only one choice remained.

I had to keep moving forward and hope I’d survive.

Father had allowed me my single misstep as a girl, when I’d failed Mother and let her die, but he would not allow another.

Not when I’d thrust myself into the intrigue and promised my ability. I’d entered the cage of my own accord to save Inessa. Now I needed to become the heir Father needed. Quickly.

“I understand,” I said.

I left two days later in our royal carriage, the vial of poison sewn into my dress.

Father saw me off just before dawn.

Only servants and guards were awake.

The grave flowers’ scent was strongest at this time, as was the fog. I passed the garden on my way to the carriage.

“Goodbye, my loves,”

I whispered.

How would my grave flowers manage without me to care for them? Of course, I knew they’d be just fine.

They were viciously self-sufficient.

If anything, I would be the one to miss them.

Still, my heart tightened as the moonmirrors projected their dying light onto me. The garden, for once, was silent. Leaves and buds drooped. Somehow, my grave flowers seemed to know I was leaving. Maybe they would miss me after all.

Father helped me into the carriage and shut its door.

“May you swim in salt,”

he said, as the carriage embarked.

It was an old Radixan blessing, an homage to our belief that salt cleanses you, whether through sweat, tears, or sea water.

The journey was lengthy, taking us along dirt paths threading along the rocky shoreline cliffs and across the sprawling countryside.

I stirred anxiously on the hard bench, trying to use the time wisely and ponder Inessa’s death within the recesses of my mind.

Who might’ve killed her? There were a few clear possibilities: an enemy of Queen Gertrude and Prince Lambert, a Radixan determined to do anything to stop the kingdom from becoming a vassal, or—on the opposing side of the same coin—an Acusan who hated the thought of a Radixan bride on the throne.

My heart contracted as I considered my daunting task. I was feverish with fear and then, as we jostled along, dulled by it.

Eventually, cobblestones rose through the dirt like baby teeth poking through gums.

They formed a long road, and as we went, they collected more roads, several coming from different directions and merging into one.

All paths led to Acus.

My first sight of the kingdom left me stunned, fear temporarily replaced with shock.

White stone domes and vaults rounded against the sky, so perfectly curved that I wished to run my fingertip along them.

Gabled roofs and vertical half-timber beams formed a second skyline below the more majestic architectural feats.

All the buildings circled tighter and tighter until they accumulated around the royal palace, which was a zenith built from cornices, spires, and columns. As we drew near, the city grew until our carriage seemed no bigger than an ant and I no bigger than a speck of sand upon the ant’s back.

Our carriage halted, and the head of the Radixan royal guard opened the carriage door.

“They are waiting for you, Your Royal Highness,”

he said.

“We take our leave of you here.”

Stale sweat clung to my skin, making my lips salty, as though Radix had come with me.

But I’d never been farther from Radix in my life.

I knew where I was going and what I must do, yet I was lost.

I unwound from the bench. The carriage groaned and swayed at my every movement. Fear made me wish to dissolve into its dark, dilapidated corners. Slowly, I stepped out.

Blazing light fell upon me, so bright I felt as though I was being bitten.

Acusan emissaries swept forward, speaking with the head of the royal guard, and bowing and curtsying to me.

More shock overtook me.

Dramatic garments draped across their bodies, embellished with beading and embroidery in accordance with Acus’s needlework gifting.

Every outfit was revealing, just as Inessa had said, but I hadn’t been prepared for the degree.

Sunlight glazed onto the Acusans’ skin, clothing them in sheets of light as though sun were preferred to fabric.

Usually, I searched faces, watching lips to see which lies were being told, staring into eyes to catch glimpses of betrayal. But I was disoriented. There didn’t seem to be any eyes. There seemed to be only notches of clavicles below necks, stacks of ribs breathing against soft flesh, pairs of breasts swaying freely behind cloth. Radixans had the same range of body shapes and sizes, but ours were buttoned, corseted, cinched, and tucked away, layers upon layers keeping the cold out and our secrets in. I fixed my gaze on my boots, which suddenly seemed much too clunky.

Wordlessly, I let the Acusans guide me toward their royal carriage.

I climbed inside and warily sat on the upholstered red bench.

My backside sank a good three inches into the cushion as though I were an escaped goose-down feather it was trying to suck back within its seams.

The carriage embarked, and I didn’t realize it at first because it was so well-oiled that the movement was merely linear, not up and down like it was in our carriage.

I tried to stare out the window, taking in the clusters of statues dotting the streets.

Most were of the Father, who was Acus’s patron, just as the Daughter was ours.

Leave it to Acus to claim the highest figure in the hierarchy for themselves.

Soon, I had to turn away. It was so bright that it was difficult see. The light itself interfered with my vision and gathered at my temples to give me a pounding headache. Afterimages spotted my vision. Every inhale filled my lungs with air too thin, too weightless, too clean. There was no iodine, salt, or moisture in it. Radixan air was corrosive, but this air was ephemeral, evaporating before I could suck it in.

I hated it.

I missed breathing.

I missed home.

“We’re close, Your Highness.”

A woman sat across from me, her red silk gown mingling with the red carriage cushion.

“You’ll be shown to your chambers for a little rest, and then, tonight, there is a court party in your honor.

Prince Aeric will be there, and you will be formally introduced.

Tomorrow, you’ll have the betrothal service.

Once that is complete, you will be officially engaged, and after the wedding, you will be our queen consort.”

I nodded.

According to the plan, I would meet Prince Aeric—Aeric to me—tonight, publicly, at a court party.

Then, the next time I was scheduled to see him, it would be at another public affair: the betrothal ceremony.

There was nothing romantic or intimate about either arrangement, thankfully.

Better not to have any private moments.

Not when I was going to murder him.