“Yes.” He sounded strained.
I turned my head back towards the ceiling. “I should. And I do. I was happy there, but the days are full here and the people I love most are alive and they are down the hall from me.”
He said nothing for a long time. I thought him asleep but he said, “What is your scent?”
I turned back towards him. “Lavender.”
“Hmm. Anwyn likes it.”
44. Helena
The day of the holiday, The Rush of Flowers, dawned hot and bright. We bathed in the baths and broke our fasts. We decided to wear our sleeveless summer dresses for the first time. I had not looked in a mirror in so long, but I let Catrin hold up a small hand mirror to see myself in the celadon green. The lines around my eyes looked deeper than I remembered, but the diet of the keep’s dining hall had put some flesh back in my cheeks. I eschewed the apron but kept the belt and sagaris, proud of what the axe signified, even if I had yet to show any magic. I wore my hair loose and waving as did Helena. There was no cause for us to pin it up and out of the way for work. She and I descended the steps from the keep down to the plateau and the city center. She was eating a pear and the golden green complemented the rose color of her dress. We walked towards the dyer shop with ease, no real hurry in mind as the festivities would not begin until the afternoon. Floral stalls jammed the sides of the streets as buyers stocked up for The Rush of Flowers. Helena commented that we should spend coin on flowers for the others and I agreed.
The dyer’s shop was full of jars, barrels and fabrics. There was a set of shelves with baskets of rocks and dried root vegetables. Helena spoke with the dyer about buying minerals and what his wares held, while I explored. Zinnia had started a tab for her in the name of the king. I looked up from a shelf of jars of dried madder root and saw the Lady Vinia looking at me. Next to her were two boys close to the age of twelve and her daughter, Opal.
Vinia keeps trying to speak to me. I told her if it was not about Opal, there’s no purpose in it.
“Edith,” she said, her eyes roving over my plain, summer dress. Her own dress was embroidered with roses and vines as was her daughter’s.
“Lady,” I said with a stiff nod. I had felt pretty until I saw her.
“Purchasing fabrics?” I asked, attempting friendliness.
She made a noncommittal noise, eyes now on my loose hair.
Opal’s eyes were wide, watching her mother. The two boys looked bored and anxious to be gone. They both had dark hair too but each had a streak of white on one temple.
“Edie, he is putting the cinnabar in a basket for me— Oh,” said Helena, coming to stand next to me and starting when she saw the lady and her brood. She gave Vinia a dismissive look and turned to me, saying, “What flowers do you think Alric will like to see in your hair?”
“The captain doesn’t like flowers,” the lady interjected, her tone kind, informative.
Helena looked down her long, straight nose at Vinia. “He seems to like anything Edie wears.”
“Here, madam,” the dyer said, setting down before us a large basket with cinnabar rock in it. “And you know how to grind it down to make vermilion red?”
“Yes, thank you much,” she said to him. “Edie, shall we?” She bent down to take one handle, her eyes looking at me pointedly.
I bent to take the other and we walked out of the dyer shop into the street, flower garlands strung over our heads, people hurrying past with armfuls of blooms. Someone rolled a barrel of wine past us with a stick. A pony wreathed in flowers was led along the street by children, screeching with excitement. In one city square, we passed by a life-size effigy of a standing bear made of straw and covered in lilies, smaller cub figures at her feet, also adorned with lilies.
“What was that?” I asked, when we had gotten away from the dyer.
Helena did not look at me but she frowned. “I do not care for her constant examining of you in the baths. Mischa is right. They have…screwed. And she still wants him.”
“You can never say swive or fuck, can you?”
“Edie!” She blinked and sighed. “She does not think you are good enough for him and it, to quote our Mischa, chaps my ass.”
I laughed. “I love when you are snippy and foul. Why does it matter? It is not a love match.”
“But she doesn’t know that. It is the principle of the thing. And it is mean. I do not like mean people. I have raised my daughter to be polite and never to think herself better than others because of coin, education, appearance. And you are just as beautiful as that woman. More so. And that is what she cannot swallow.”
“I would disagree, but I thank you,” I said. “Truthfully, it does bother me, but not for that reason. She can think what she will, but I do hate her stares.”
“She wishes she was in his bed instead of you.”
I toyed with the idea of telling her about meeting Anwyn and the snippet of conversation I had heard through the door last night, but I refrained. I did not want to turn over the rocks in my mind and see what beetles scattered out.
“How much coin do we have?” I asked. “Could we get roses for everyone?”
