Those Fatal Flowers

Chapter 6 #2

“Hello, sweet one.” I force the words out as convincingly as I can, though the singsong inflection my voice takes on sounds like talons scraping across rock. Thankfully, the child is as foolish as the adult men around him. Jeremie beams at me. Behind the smiling moon of his face, Cora slips inside the house, abandoning me with the mothers.

“And this is Elizabeth and her son, Ambrose,” Margery says, nodding her head to the woman in the doorway. Shit, another boy.

“Nice to meet you,” Elizabeth says with a smile.

A new round face appears from behind Elizabeth’s shoulder. Even as she stands in Elizabeth’s shadow, warmth radiates from her slender frame. Although she doesn’t look as thin as Margery, here’s another woman with hardly any meat on her bones. Her skin is sun-kissed, dappled with freckles, and her frizzy red hair is stuffed unceremoniously beneath a coif. Wild crimson tendrils break free, giving her the appearance of someone touched with a hint of madness. But she must be, if this is Emme—from what Margery shared on the walk here, she was one of seven single women who decided to make this colony her home. She gasps when she sees me, a sun-speckled hand rising to cover her mouth. “Oh—my lady!”

“Please forgive my intrusion,” I offer, unsure of what exactly to say.

“It’s my pleasure!” Her voice rises an octave, hinting that it’s not.

“If it’s not too much trouble. Cora invited me, but I don’t have to—”

“Don’t be silly!” Margery interjects. “You’re more than welcome here!”

Emme shoots a dark look back into the room, no doubt cursing Cora for bringing me along without asking, but when she looks back to us, the warm smile has returned. “Come on, then. Get inside before you both catch a chill.”

The doorway swallows Emme and Elizabeth, and Margery follows their lead. I stand there for a moment, listening to the soft tinkling of laughter spill into the street. It’s easy to pretend that I’m back home, standing outside my own humble dwelling. Inside, Raidne prepares dinner while Pisinoe reads poetry aloud. I can almost hear her perfect meter: As for me, the sacred wall with its votive tablet declares that I have hung up my dripping garments to the god who rules over the sea.

The laughter quiets when I step inside. As I suspected, Emme’s house is a single room, not unlike mine on Scopuli, save for one noticeable difference—believing their stay on Roanoke would be short, the cottage’s builders apparently deemed a chimney an unnecessary luxury for the likes of a poor single woman. The entire space is thick with smoke from the fireplace that dominates the back wall. But even the haze isn’t enough to hide me from seven new pairs of curious eyes.

“Ladies, we have a special guest today,” Emme says, fanning her arms out to present the group to me. “Please introduce yourselves.”

A woman seated at a small wooden table speaks first. Another baby is in her arms, sleeping peacefully, nestled in her mother’s embrace. An emotion I can’t quite identify claws at my heart.

“I am Elyoner,” she says, “and this is my daughter, Virginia.”

The rest of the ladies follow her lead. There’s Wenefrid, the group’s oldest member, with wiry graying hair, and a second Elizabeth whom everyone calls Liz. A woman named Margaret rivals Wenefrid in old age, and the two could easily be confused if Margaret weren’t missing one of her front teeth, though this doesn’t stop her from smiling widely. And then there are Rose, the same girl who poured wine at the welcome feast, and Jane, both as young as I was when Scopuli became my prison. A mousy, timid woman introduces herself last as Alis. The name catches my attention.

“Alis Chapman? Is your husband the one who found me?”

The woman’s face turns a deep scarlet. “Yes, my lady.”

I take off a pair of gold earrings and place them in her palms. “It’s not much, but please thank him for me. I would have frozen if he hadn’t gotten aid.”

The act makes Alis blush harder. “Oh, my lady, I couldn’t—”

I close her fingers around the jewelry. The other women watch with their eyes wide.

“Accept the gift, Alis, please,” Cora urges. “John did a good thing, and God wants you to be rewarded for it.”

Alis fiddles with the earrings but eventually slips them into her pocket. “Thank you, Lady Thelia.”

“Well, then,” Margaret says, the words whistling through the gap in her teeth. “Shall we?”

Emme points to a large leather-bound tome on a small table beside her bed. Cora clears her throat as Wenefrid hands it to her.

“Slow down, Cora. You’re forgetting the most important part.” A devious grin lights up Emme’s face. The others start laughing, and Cora smirks.

“Go on, then.”

Emme pulls a large crock from a shelf beside the hearth, pausing only to wiggle her fingers gleefully before dividing its contents into mugs for us all.

As Emme prepares the libations, my attention returns to the book in Cora’s lap. This must be the Bible that she mentioned earlier. Cora’s fingers graze the cover gingerly before she teases it open to the first page. The paper is delicate, like a butterfly’s wings.

Cora catches me watching her, and our eyes lock. Her stare is intense, searching, and it strikes me that she’s trying to discern if I recognize the book. I smile, hoping to encourage her that I do. The way she handles it shows how important it is to her, and the fact that these readings occur weekly suggests that she’s not alone in revering it. She smiles faintly in return. It’s a far cry from her spontaneous laughter on the beach, but it’s an improvement. As Emme passes around the wine, Cora clears her throat once more.

“Let’s start at the beginning. It’s been a long time since we read about the creation.”

“I love Genesis,” Rose says on a sigh, resting her head in her palm as her focus settles onto Cora.

“Reader’s choice,” says Margaret with a shrug, and all the other ladies laugh. Ah, yes. Cora is the only one who knows how to read.

“In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth. And the earth was without form and void, and darkness wasupon the deep, and the Spirit of God moved upon the waters…”

It’s always strange listening to mortals recount their origins—which details they get right, and which they get wrong, though even I don’t know the whole truth. No one does. The memory of the gods isn’t infallible, as old as they are, and many are happy to embellish the details of their histories to willing ears. Still, though, I crack a smile, ready to lose myself in the familiar.

“Then God said, Let there be light: And there was light. And God saw the light that it was good, and God separated the light from the darkness. And God called the Light, Day, and the darkness he called Night. So the evening and the morning were the first day.”

My smile fades. There’s no familiarity to be found here after all. Only a single god? How could that be, when I’ve played in the woods with dryads? When our fathers, though lesser, were gods in their own right?

I served ambrosia to the Goddess of the Harvest. I kissed the lips of the Goddess of Spring, and I lost her to the God of the Dead.

Cora’s brows knead together in concentration, and a flush crawls up her neck. She’s enraptured by what she’s reading; she believes it, every last lie, and so do the rest of the women in the room.

When her god creates man from dust and breathes a living soul into his body, I resist asking how he obtained the ability to grant life in the first place. Did he steal it from a goddess lost to time? Why choose to make a man first, when a woman could have birthed her own children of flesh and blood?

Because he, too, is a man.

So where are the goddesses?

Cora finishes the part about how the primordial couple is banished from their home in Eden and looks up to face the rest of us. This is the story that Rose loves? It makes my stomach roil.

“I’d forgotten that God creates beasts and birds for Adam as companions before he creates Eve,” I say. It takes all my strength to keep my features from twisting into a sneer. To be no more than an afterthought—why believe such a story?

Emme barks with laughter. “It seems a bit silly now, doesn’t it?”

“I just like the part about the serpent tricking Eve,” Rose says, a bit defensively.

“But he didn’t trick her.” I can’t help myself.

“He convinced her to eat the fruit!”

“He told her she wouldn’t die if she ate it. And she didn’t, did she?” I don’t bother asking why this god would put such a tree in Eden in the first place; just like mine, he enjoys setting humanity up to fail. An apple and a pomegranate. Two women damned for their taste in fruit.

“The serpent is Satan, Lady Thelia!” Elyoner’s face darkens, and she draws Virginia closer to her chest as if I’ve invited evil into the room by defending a snake.

“I—I know,” I begin, unsure of how to recover. I don’t know what else that giant book contains and can only speak confidently about what we just heard. “I’m just saying that he didn’t actually lie.”

“But he deceived her.”

“Did he?”

“Do you think Eve would have eaten that fruit if she knew what it would cost her? What it would cost us?”

Virginia nuzzles at Elyoner’s chest, looking for a breast, and I soften. She’s still young; the memory of childbirth must be fresh. “I’m not sure. But even Eden might grow to feel like a prison after an eternity of it.”

“I think we all know how quickly Eden can spoil,” Cora muses sadly as she turns to Elyoner. “After all, didn’t your father describe the New World as Eden on earth? Isn’t that why we’re all here?”

Elyoner’s cheeks turn scarlet, and she pulls Virginia closer. “He believed that, Cora; otherwise he would’ve insisted I return with him on the supply run.”

My eyes grow wide. “Your father is Governor White? And he left you behind?”

“Virginia was only nine days old when the fleet returned. My husband thought it safer to stay.”

“I know your father believed it, and that your husband did, too,” Cora says softly. “But if the choice was yours, would you have stayed here?”

Perhaps it’s a trick of the light on the haze or a result of the smoke itself, but Elyoner’s eyes are suddenly glassy. “Of course not. We knew it was dangerous here that first day we disembarked.”

“Some places more than others,” Emme murmurs, her eyes wandering to me. Her stare, previously so warm, is now sharp with warning. Cora bristles at the comment.

“What are you implying, Emme?”

“Only that Lady Thelia should be careful in the Bailie house.”

Cora’s eyes turn into slits. “Say what you mean plainly.”

“Ladies, please!” Wenefrid interjects. Emme’s lips fall open in protest, but Wenefrid holds a hand in the air to silence her. The woman’s age must carry weight, because Emme’s mouth snaps closed, though her silence isn’t enough to quell Cora.

“I won’t sit here and listen to you slander my future family.” She stands abruptly, her movements frenzied, save for when she turns to delicately place Emme’s Bible on her empty chair. I push forward in my own, ready to follow her, but Margery places a hand on my knee. No one else tries to stop her, and before I can untangle what just transpired, Cora has already bolted from the home. The door slams loudly behind her.

Emme shakes her head, huffing with frustration.

“You shouldn’t have been so blunt,” Margaret chides her. “What would you have her do? The engagement is already set.”

“Would you prefer I say nothing? She’s about to marry a monster. Lady Thelia is living there!”

“What are you talking about?” My palms grow slick with sweat.

“He was a little rough with me one evening,” Margery whispers, looking to the floor. “Master Bailie walked in before anything happened, Lord protect his soul, and he scolded Thomas properly…”

“Margery…”

“It was right after Dyonis died. I think he was trying to make me feel better, but—” Her voice cracks, and she shakes her head as if pushing away a bad memory. “It’s why they employed me. Master Bailie offered me a position to make it right. After he passed, Mistress Bailie agreed to continue the arrangement—”

“—because she likes the status it brings her—” Emme interjects.

“—and nothing has happened since.”

“But do you feel safe there?” I ask.

“Mistress Bailie is always present.”

“And what if she wasn’t?”

Margery buries her face in the top of Jeremie’s blond curls, and the room falls silent.

“Someone should make sure Cora is all right,” I say softly.

Elyoner bobs her head with approval, though perhaps she’s only eager to see me leave, too. Emme shrugs, and the other ladies give various levels of agreement in their nods and their stares.

“You shouldn’t go alone,” Margery says, rising to her feet as well. “I’ll walk with you.”

Outside Emme’s cottage, Cora’s nowhere to be seen. Our conversation gave her plenty of time to put a healthy distance between us. Margery heads north, with Jeremie on her hip. The little boy watches me from over her shoulder; I do my best to ignore it.

I replay the conversation as we duck through the streets, pulling my cloak over my face to keep away unwanted attention. From their own lips, these women think Thomas is dangerous. Poor Cora. The sex between her legs has saddled her with an impossible choice: Either accept the proposal of a violent man for the comfort of food and shelter, or reject it and risk starving, or worse. Neither outcome has the potential for a truly happy future.

The thought darkens my mood, until another counteracts it: Cora’s fate isn’t as set in stone as it seems. When these men return with me to Scopuli, Thomas will either drown beneath the waves or I’ll slit his throat in the ritual cave. Whatever the method, he’ll be dead, leaving Cora free to pursue another destiny. That is, of course, if she wants one.

“Here we are.” Margery stops before another cottage that looks indistinguishable from the two beside it. “The Bailies’ home is a street over that way.”

“Is that where you’re going now?”

“I’ll take Jeremie to Elizabeth’s first, but yes. The Bailies will be expecting their dinner soon.”

“Thank you. For everything today.”

Margery smiles before looking to the doorway. “I can’t promise she’ll be happy to see you.”

“I have a feeling she won’t be,” I say with a laugh. Margery returns it with a smile.

I knock lightly on the Waterses’ front door, but it’s not Cora who answers. It’s Will. A grin overtakes his face when he finds me.

“Lady Thelia! What brings you to my doorstep?”

“I came to see Cora. Is she here?”

“She’s out back feeding the chickens, but I’m not sure now is a good time.”

“I know she’s upset. I wanted to check on her.”

“Ah, yes. The women often pester her with their gossip, but she never tells me what they actually say. Any chance you’ll spill the secret?” He leans against the doorframe and folds his arms across his chest. There’s something effeminate about him, though he conceals it beneath his bravado and exaggerated smile, as if the gentler nature is something he learned to hide long ago. What a loss. That buried softness is the only reason I feel safe standing outside with him alone.

“Cora’s secrets are her own, and I won’t be the one to betray them. May I see her?”

He tosses his head toward the side of the house. “Just go around. You’ll find her.”

“Thank you, Master Waters.”

“Anything for you, my lady.”

There’s something beneath his words…a light flirtation, perhaps, but it feels forced, like it’s an impression of what he believes he should say. We exchange goodbyes, but I look back to him as he closes the door, and the pinched expression he wears when he thinks I’m not looking makes me wonder if he’s as confused by the performance as I am.

Cora’s hunched over a small plot of soil behind the house, just as Will said she’d be. A sack is positioned on her left hip, and she reaches into it to sprinkle seed onto the dirt below. Several chickens scuttle around her feet, pecking at the feed eagerly. There’s a part of me that wishes to melt into the shadows and drink all of her in, but the sound of her sniffling draws me out of their dark, safe embrace.

She lifts her head toward the sound of my footsteps and quickly moves to brush her cheeks with her free hand, but it’s too late—she knows I’ve caught her in a moment of weakness, and the eyes that moments ago held such sorrow now blaze with rage.

“What are you doing here?” Her voice is clipped, though she begrudgingly adds, “My lady.”

“I came to see if you were all right.” My skin flushes hot under her scorn.

She snorts. “Why you?”

Compassion withers inside me into indignation. “Maybe I’m the only one who hasn’t grown tired of your hostility.”

Her eyes widen, but she’s alone in being shocked by the words that leave my mouth. I would never have spoken to Proserpina like this; despite being her dearest friend, her lover, I was also her handmaiden. A servant. But I’m not Cora’s lesser—here, I’m the one with the higher rank. The one with power. I don’t have to hold myself back.

“You shouldn’t be so cold to them. They’re only trying to protect you. You know that, right?”

Her fury dissipates into an expression I can’t quite decipher. Only when her teeth find her bottom lip do I notice that it’s trembling.

“Yes,” she admits. “I know they worry for me. But what would they have me do?”

I take a step closer. “Do you want to be Master Bailie’s wife?”

“I don’t owe you an answer to that.”

Gods, she’s frustrating. My blood rushes through my ears, and I can’t tell if I want to slap her or—

No.

“You can speak plainly to me,” I say.

“Can I, truly?” A bitter laugh escapes from her throat. “I’ve seen the way Thomas looks at you. And now you ask me to spill my secrets? How do I know you won’t use them against me?”

Her accusation stings, not far off the mark, and I shoot back coldly before I can stop myself. “You think I’m your biggest threat? After what I just heard, isn’t it Thomas who earns that title?”

Cora falls silent at my retaliation, and my lips threaten to curl into a victorious smile, but a fresh glistening in her eyes melts the satisfaction from my features.

“My father’s dying,” she says, tears spilling over her cheeks. “If we’re not wed before he passes, there’ll be no one left to make a suitable match for me.”

“Couldn’t Will help?” Her attitude be damned, the sight of those tears draws me to her side, and without thinking, I take her hands in mine.

“There’s a thin veil of order here that grows weaker with each Council member’s passing. There isn’t much Will could do against a pack of ravenous men. Yes, Thomas has a cruel streak, but he’s respected for it. And as Mistress Bailie, I’ll never want for anything. Food will always be on the table, and money will always be in our coffers. Of course I worry about what our life together will be like…But Alis’s husband beats her, and she has no money to show for it. Charles Florrie made certain that Emme would never find a decent match. The pool of gentlehearted men is smaller than the number of single women. That’s why I need him. Why I need the Bailies. And I might lose everything to you.”

She looks down at our hands, but she doesn’t pull away from me. I slide in closer, so near to her that I can feel her breath against my fingers as I reach to wipe the tears from her cheeks. Her skin is like silk, and the desire to feel more of it takes root in the pit of my stomach.

“Cora,” I begin, my voice dropping to a gentle whisper. “I didn’t cross the sea to steal another woman’s betrothed.” The words fall from my lips so easily that even I believe them for a moment—until I remember what I actually plan for Thomas. Suddenly, the words taste like dirt in my mouth.

“We’re trapped on an island a world away from anyone who owes us kindness, so I ask again, what would the others have me do?”

Let me take them, I want to say, but of course I can’t. Instead, I envelop her in an embrace, bracing for the moment she pushes me away.

But Cora doesn’t. Instead, she leans her frame into mine, nestling her head into the base of my neck. The scent of roses rises from her hair, and I’m suddenly aware of every part of my body—the places that connect with hers sing with anticipation, while the parts that don’t cry out for their turn. Everywhere aches for more. Her breath on the bare flesh of my neck is a small miracle. How is it that she fits so perfectly in my arms?

“It seems a woman’s fate is the same no matter where you’re from,” I whisper into her raven hair as a wave of homesickness crashes over me. I viewed those shores as walls to a prison for centuries, but is it possible that we had our own little Eden on those rocky cliffs, safe from the ravages of men? After what I’ve seen of the outside world these few days, will I even want to leave Scopuli again if I’m able to break Ceres’s curse? “I wish you no harm. I swear it.”

It’s a truth hidden inside a larger lie, but I hope it brings her comfort nonetheless.

When she lifts her head to look at me, I find that those vibrant green eyes believe me.

“Can I ask you something?” Her voice is barely a whisper.

I want to say, Anything, but I know how that word will sound leaving my lips—like a plea. I settle for a nod.

“You looked…upset while I was reading. Like you’d never heard Genesis before, and every part of it offended you.”

I can feel crimson rising to my cheeks. I was so certain that I’d hid it well; was she the only one who noticed, or did the others catch sight of my deceit, too?

My pause lasts too long, and Cora sighs, finding her answer in the void between us. “So, what—you’re a heathen, then?”

“A heathen?”

“You don’t believe in God.”

I think of the laws pinned to the meetinghouse’s door. “Of course I do.”

She looks unsure, but she doesn’t pull away from me. “Try harder to look like you know what’s happening at church tomorrow.”

I smile grimly, suddenly uncomfortable beneath her scrutiny. Less than a day with me, and Cora’s already discovered one of my secrets. What else will she find if she looks close enough?

“Cora!” Will’s voice shatters us apart as his face appears in a back window, an axe through flowers. “Oh—you’re still here, Lady Thelia.”

“She was just leaving,” Cora calls out to him before turning back to me. Did I imagine it, or was her voice a little rushed? “It’s nearly dinner…”

“I understand.” And I do, though it doesn’t make leaving any easier.

Later that evening, after Margery helps me undress, I slide a chair in front of my bedroom door before crawling into bed. If I’ve learned anything today, it’s that this city, this house, isn’t safe.