Chapter Seven #2
Ten months ago, Bash and Card’s engagement celebrations around us, drinks in hands and music playing, he’d flipped. Exploded. Irrationally, I’d thought at the time. I didn’t see the signs until it was too late.
Earlier on when we’d been getting ready, he changed into a dark suit bought with his new earnings and asked me how he looked.
I said he looked nice, how he always looks, and didn’t understand why he got annoyed at that.
I reminded him that I couldn’t exaggerate.
I literally could not tell him he looked like the falling stars, or whatever romantic compliment he was fishing for.
Later on at the party, we were mingling with a few of his guard friends, and one had made a joke about missing his kid’s bedtime story, saying how he’d have to ask his wife to catch him up on the plot. I opened my mouth before I could think about it.
“Yeah, Lark didn’t want to come either,” I said, which was the truth. He’d had a hard day of training and had a slight headache.
The look I got from him was acidic.
I knew I’d said something wrong but didn’t want to ruin the party, so I excused myself and clung to Card’s side for a while.
When Lark caught up with me, he was sulky and needy, complaining I was spending too much time around my best friend.
I gave him a confused frown and said that the point of the party was to celebrate their engagement, not us.
“Gods, why are you so difficult?” he yelled, loud enough for onlookers to hear.
I jerked back.
“What are you talking about?”
“I mean, you and your fucking words.”
“My…what?”
“You just can’t say anything supportive, can you? No, you have to be a fucking nightmare! You take every chance to embarrass me. It’s like you want people to be uncomfortable around you!”
My world had plummeted. All the anxious thoughts I’d had about us were coming true. I was hard to be around. I was hard to communicate with.
I was hard to love.
So I shouted back. Told him he was controlling.
Told him he was too arrogant, too critical of his peers—things I’d previously kept to myself for fear of losing him.
I couldn’t see through my tears when Card pulled me into his arms. Bash dragged Lark out.
Threw him out of the party and sent him to Ava for a behavioral assessment.
And by the next day, the whole citadel knew.
The whispers that agreed with Lark hurt the most.
I shove the flowers into his chest.
“Get out of my shop. You can help me by staying as far away as possible.”
“Fliss—”
The chime interrupts and Tarin, dressed in leather armor, short dark hair tucked behind their pale pointed ears, opens the door with one hand. As a guard-in-training, Tarin immediately hesitates, thrown off by finding their senior here. Lark’s jaw is clenched and he’s gripping the asphodel.
“Miss Felicity,” they say, their eyes jumping between the two of us.
“Tarin, please come in,” I reply, delighted to have any other company.
“I only came to deliver this from Master Cardamine,” Tarin says, and brings forth a yellow elecampane flower, its thin trails of petals not too dissimilar from a sunflower.
Elecampane means one thing.
I snatch the flower out of Tarin’s hand, my pulse rocketing.
“Are you sure this is from Card?”
“Y-Yes,” Tarin stutters.
Forgetting everything else, I fly into action, dashing forward to turn the shop sign to Closed and grabbing my keys. I yank open the door and wave my hand urgently.
“Everyone out,” I order. I’m so panicked I’m hardly able to see. Elecampane from Card is an SOS. A call that I should run to him immediately.
“Fliss—” Lark begins, but Tarin hoists him out. I don’t care what they do once I’ve locked the front door. It’s not as important as Card being in distress.
I race in the opposite direction Marceline went earlier and head toward the castle, practically running over the drawbridge and through the courtyard.
Howell is there at the large double doors and, with the experience of a longtime guard, he opens them for me with a hand clenched in a fist over his heart.
Even now, after years of being granted entry to the castle without question, I can’t help but think about how this is not a privilege most have.
I often wonder if my access adds to my “otherness,” or whether it might be one of the few places I’m accepted—even if it’s on the queen’s orders.
I know where the hallways and stairwells lead, and when I reach Card’s quarters, I don’t even knock.
I throw the door open and stand there panting, the elecampane drooping in my hand.
“Fliss!” Card sings with a grin. “Come on in, my darling.”
I heave a deep breath and stare at him. He’s lounging on a sofa in his parlor, a goblet in hand and no emergency to be seen.
Nettle, resident tracker and Captain Ava’s partner, reclines in a chair to the side, eyeing me as she always does, with a haughty indifference.
I told Nettle she had food in her teeth when we first met, and she’s hated me ever since.
One of Card’s wedding planners stands by the fireplace, holding what seems to be a type of cravat, next to a variety of fabric squares laid out on a low table.
Card leaps up and pushes a spare goblet toward me. I catch a waft of wine, and prickle.
“Card, I closed the shop for this.”
“Good, we’ll have all afternoon, then. Sit, sit.” He tugs me down onto the sofa and gestures for the wedding planner to continue. “Eurain here was just showing us some fabrics and I want your opinion. Which shade do you think I should choose? Should I go for a cravat or a tie?”
I’m still reeling from the whiplash of his signal, so I blink at the samples.
I hear a small snigger and when I look over, Nettle is hiding her mouth behind her drink.
Her brown skin reflects the gold of the goblet, and when she catches my eye, she shakes back her tightly coiled hair as if she couldn’t care less if I were here or not.
It’s at times like these that my envy over Card’s collection of friends rears to the surface.
Swiftly followed by guilt for feeling that way.
It’s not anyone’s fault that he’s better at socializing than I am.
“Yeah, Fliss, what do you think?” Nettle says, and crosses the legs of her hunting trousers, revealing a small knife sheathed on her thigh.
I sigh.
I take a sip of wine.
I stow my annoyance away.
“Go on, then, show me the choices.”
Card’s beam stretches across his wine-flushed cheeks.
I smile. I won’t tell him about Lark—just like I didn’t tell him about Pigeon or Will.
This is my best friend’s wedding after all, and there’s just over a month left until the big day.
I can put myself aside for him for that long.
It’s not like I haven’t done that before.
And with the guilt of ruining his engagement party—no, of Lark ruining his engagement party—I owe it to him to make his wedding the most perfect it can possibly be.
I end up being persuaded to try on my maid of honor dress to check for alterations, and with pins in place, I twirl myself in front of a large ornate mirror.
The skirt is beautiful—magnificent, even—made from layers of shimmering periwinkle fabric that twinkle in the light.
It’s fit for a princess. Like Will called me.
I can’t imagine what he’d make of this dress.
Would he make a typical sarcastic remark, or would he do what Lark wanted me to do, and tell me I’m a star fallen to earth?
A sudden blush spreads across my cheeks, and I glance at Card and Nettle. For once, never being the center of attention works in my favor. They don’t notice my panic. Well then…maybe they also won’t notice if I take another trip into the northern forest.