Chapter Nine
“Where were you?” Card asks, twirling the stem of a bright red poppy between his fingers. He’s leaning against a wall in my shop and not helping at all.
“When? You’ll have to be more specific for me to answer,” I say, and keep my eyes on the flowers I’m sorting into bunches.
There was another attack on the trading wagons this morning, and the castle requested as many herbal remedies as people could spare.
Fortunately this time no one died, but some of the guards sustained burns and grazes from an exploding trap the rebels had set.
“Yesterday,” Card says. “I sent Tarin for you. Your mum told them you were out.”
“Doesn’t that answer your question?”
I tie some string around a cluster of poppies and place it on top of the other bunches I’ve made.
They can be used as a sleeping aid and hopefully calm any headaches or ringing ears the guards have.
I’ve managed to fill two boxes of flowers—some dried, some fresh, all with some kind of medicinal use.
I know that Creon down at the apothecary will be more useful in a crisis, but I want to help as much as I can.
“According to Godfrey, you didn’t come back until nightfall.”
“Card.” I sigh. “Why are you grilling me?”
“I had the final meeting with the fashion designer! I needed your opinion!”
Needed my help. Wanted my help. I’ve heard this more than a hundred times, and it’s only recently occurred to me that he’s exaggerating. I’m sure he was absolutely fine without me there.
“It’s not my wedding. It’s your choice to make.”
“You’re the maid of honor. You’re supposed to stop me from making stupid choices,” Card says, and folds his arms across his decorated teal shirt.
“Like what?”
“Like what if the color of my suit clashes with the ribbons?”
A disaster, I want to say, but can’t because it comes under the umbrella of sarcasm. A pang of jealousy runs through me. Stupid curse.
“I’m sure it will be fine,” I say. “Besides, it’s not about the ribbons or the suit. It’s supposed to be about you and Bash.”
Card rolls his eyes at me. It’s his way of saying that I don’t understand because he’s marrying a royal and they have higher expectations. There’s more pressure to be perfect. Yeah, like I couldn’t possibly understand what that feels like. Ah. Someone’s sarcasm is really rubbing off on me…
“Are you going to help me carry these boxes up to the castle?” I ask.
He pushes off the wall and picks the lighter of the two. Because of course he does.
As we make our way up the cobbled street to the castle, a passerby bows at him, and Card nods in response. He’s not royal yet, but the townsfolk already treat him that way. He certainly carries himself that way. The same person clamps their lips tight and avoids meeting my eyes. How kind.
“I don’t know why you’re being so secretive about where you went,” Card says.
“You’re the one making it a big deal. I went out.”
“Where?”
“Why does it matter?”
“You’re being weird lately, that’s why.”
I grit my teeth. I don’t want to talk to him about Will or Ruth or Pigeon or anything else that’s happened in the forest recently.
It’s been so refreshing to have my own experiences separate from Card.
Or Lark. Something that’s mine, where I can introduce myself as myself, not as Card’s friend or Bastion’s fiancé’s friend or Lark’s (ex-) girlfriend.
“Would you like me to tell you everything I do from the moment I wake up to the moment I go to sleep?” I ask, shooting him a sideways glance. “Or do I also need to tell you what happens in my dreams too?”
He actually looks surprised at that one.
“Like I said,” Card scoffs, “you’re so weird lately.”
We enter the castle courtyard and find it bustling with a variety of townsfolk already, most laden with towels, sheets, water, and anything else that could come in handy.
There are a few tables set up for supplies, and from the looks of it, the court physician’s clinic on the second floor of the castle isn’t big enough to house all the injured guards.
A frazzled energy follows everyone except Howell, who stoically sits on a makeshift bench, tightening a blood-soaked bandage around his bicep.
“Great, you’re here!” Ava says after ushering a few of the younger squires in the direction of the stables. Those explosions will have spooked the horses too.
“And with gifts.” Card grins, lifting up his box of flowers. I refrain from specifying that he had no hand in organizing said gifts.
“Thank you, that’s wonderful,” Ava says. “You can set them over here.”
She shows us to one of the tables where Creon has already delivered some of his own remedies. There will be plenty to help any injured guards as long as these attacks don’t become too frequent. Plants don’t grow fast, even for those of us with magic to speed the process.
“I’ve included notes about the different flowers and their uses, just in case,” I say.
Ava smiles. It’s tight-lipped. Concerned. A crack in a frozen river. If she’s this worried, it must be getting bad out there. Is the forest safe enough for my upcoming trip to Mithian? Well, even if it isn’t, I’ll be with Will. By his side is the safest place I could be.
“Thank you, Fliss,” she says, her shoulders tense under her chain mail. “Your kindness doesn’t go unnoticed. It’s my responsibility to keep this kingdom safe, and with Prince Merit arriving in a few days, I must do everything in my power to ensure nothing like this happens again.”
“Have you tried reaching out to the rebels?” I suggest. “Aren’t any of them willing to talk?”
Considering it was another trading wagon carrying food that was targeted, it brings to mind what Pigeon said on the mountain, that this cage we’re in keeps the best for itself.
After talking with her and Will recently, I’m inclined to believe that the rebels are more motivated by desperation to feed their friends and family.
But I don’t know the truth, so I can’t say for sure. Literally.
Ava pats my shoulder. “That’s considerate of you, Fliss, but we tried that a few months ago. Unfortunately, the peace negotiations broke down quickly.”
“What happened?”
“They demanded a personal audience with the king and queen. We couldn’t ensure their safety and feared an ambush, so their request was denied. I offered to meet with them alone in a place where they had an advantage as a compromise.”
“And it spiraled from there,” Card butts in. “How boring.”
I want to elbow him. Ava is clearly on edge, and she’s not the only one.
There’s a nagging feeling about the two unusual flowers I was recently ordered to find.
Both were incredibly powerful, and I still have no idea who requested them.
Surely if it was someone at the castle, they’d be using the flowers’ magic to help the guards somehow.
For all I know, I could be passing a potent magic to the rebels and adding to the tensions.
The increase in guard patrols and watchful eyes, the whispers of shop owners worried about their suppliers, children being told to go straight home after school… I could have helped cause this chaos.
“Ava,” I say, a twist in my gut. “The explosions…Are they new? They didn’t have weapons like that before, right?”
She considers it.
“I think the first time we found traces of explosives was when Simon was killed. Since then, they’ve been frequent but less extreme. We assume they’re rationing their resources.”
Okay, that was before I found the Feiyan. It’s possible the flowers aren’t an ingredient in these attacks. But then, what are they needed for?
Card pinches my arm and I’m shaken out of my thoughts. His warning does nothing to lessen the nausea.
“Captain,” Lark says, marching over, “the queen wishes to speak with you.”
He glances at me for the briefest of seconds. After this fresh attack, he’d better not continue his insistence that I need a chaperone. Actually, I’d rather not stay to find out.
“Let me know if I can be of any further help,” I blurt to Ava, and walk away from the table in a random direction. Card links his arm in mine as we squeeze past two servants carrying fresh linen, and steers us toward the castle steps.
“Ugh,” I grumble, “is it bad that I wish he was one of the guards who got injured? That’s really bad, right?”
“Ha! No. By all means, wish all the misfortune you want on that prick.”
A rush of navy blue hurries out the large double doors.
“Thank the gods you two are already here,” Bastion gushes, a wicker basket in hand and a frantic pinch between his eyes. He kisses Card. “It’s absolute madness inside and I desperately need to talk with someone normal. Here, I just picked up some lunch from the kitchens. Come with me.”
Around the east side of the castle, there’s a secluded grassy courtyard surrounded by bushes that shelter it from passing eyes. It’s Bash’s favorite place to hide, and it’s there he leads us, almost at a run.
“My mother is having a complete meltdown,” the prince says.
“I can’t deal with her anymore. If I have to listen to her complain about me not being able to use magic one more time—like, does she think I can just suddenly start conjuring spells out of nowhere?
We’ve been through this so many times and I’ve had enough!
I have other skills. Honestly, Merit can’t arrive soon enough. It’s his turn to be nagged.”
He plonks the basket of food in the middle of the grass and starts pacing. Card, probably more than used to this, sits cross-legged and starts taking out the selection of food. I kneel down beside him quietly.