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[Rough Draft] Chapter 55: The Flowers of Grief
The melodic whittles and chirps of cardinals and blue jays that gathered along the branches of a black elder tree clashed with the still gray and black drapery of the funeral tents. The heavy silent atmosphere laced with distrust and noticeable animosity greeted Carina as she took Captain Isaac’s offered hand and stepped down from her carriage.
A glance at the assembled crowd splayed across the illustrious gated cemetery of Hargreve’s family revealed many members from the house of lords together with their family dressed in respectful black.
“The flowers, your Grace?”
Carina turned to the two knights who supported the large overflowing banquet of Blue Delphinium, White Roses, White Carnations, and White Lilies intermingled with dark green ferns.
“It is to be placed beside the Prime Minister’s grave after—” The Duchess paused abruptly and let out a sigh. The death of Prime Minister Attwood still came as a surprise. However shallow their acquaintance may have been, Carina could not help but feel that she had lost a friend and ally. Attwood had been a man of astute foresight and welcoming nature. He had also been one of the few to recognize Carina’s achievements during the Selection.
‘His death is a loss for Lafeara and the Crown Prince, but most especially his family.’
Carina turned as a familiar figure wove through the crowd of nobles to greet her.
Acheron, looking equally pale and wretched, offered her a lighthearted bow. The redness of his eyes, either from drink, tears, sleeplessness—or perhaps all three—stood out against his pale and rather unhealthy complexion. “Duchess Kirsi,” he greeted in a raspy voice that seemed to have aged a decade since they last spoke. “Thank you for coming.”
“Of course, Lord Acheron,” Carina replied. She clasped her gloved hands around the fur-trimmed lapel of her coat and resisted the temptation to reach for his arm out of sympathy. “Your father was—an incredible man. I admired him and—greatly appreciated the honesty and kindness he showed me.”
Acheron’s drawn lips twitched slightly as he offered her a nod of acknowledgment and then cleared his throat. “Allow me to take you to Mother, your Grace. She will be happy to see you.”
“That will not be necessary, nephew.”
Carina’s attention snapped from the grieving young man in the direction of the harsh voice and found an unfamiliar woman dressed in rich velvet, satin, and black fur glaring at her with cold disapproval.
“Aunt Variety,” Acheron muttered with a faint growl. “Please don’t be rude to our guest.”
“Rude?” The woman snorted.
Carina held back a laugh at the familiar look of condemnation the noblewoman wore. ‘If this is Acheron’s Aunt, then that would make her Duke Stryker’s wife and my social equal, Duchess Variety Hargreve. Although—I doubt she would agree with that placement.’
“Your presence is not welcome here, Witch Kirsi,” Variety snapped as she stepped forward to take Acheron’s arm and pull him firmly to her side. “I suggest you leave and take your poisonous weeds with you.”
The sound of steel sliding from its sheet pulled Carina’s attention and hand to that of the female knight beside her. Although dressed in the silver and white colors of Bastiallano, Lady Larissa, a water witch assigned to Carina’s side by Prince Llyr, was a native of Strugna.
Carina gave the impulsive water witch a stern look as Larissa reluctantly released the hilt of her sword and stepped back to stand beside Captain Isaac. ‘She might be here to ensure my safety, but her ignorance of Lafeara’s politics is equally dangerous.’
Repressing a sigh, Carina returned her gaze to Acheron’s aunt and offered the woman a cold smile. “I understand you must be overcome by grief, Lady Variety, but I cannot help but find such hostility most unbecoming for a woman of your rank and status.”
“I should think you would expect this much after the underhanded methods you used to steal tenants from our lands?” Variety returned with a cynical smile.
“Those tentants choose to leave of their own free will. They might have stayed if they had any confidence in the Duchy’s ability and willingness to protect them,” Carina countered with a neutral expression.
“What sort of person would willingly choose the Duchy of Bastalliano that has become infested with witches and the plague?”
Carina’s gaze moved from the unfriendly noblewoman to the two men who shadowed Hargreve’s Duchess. Their weapons and the black and gold uniforms they wore identified them as knights belonging to Duke Stryker, yet it amused Carina to notice that rather than Larissa or Isaac, both men had their gaze trained firmly on her.
‘It seems my actions during the Royal Hunt have earned me a formidable reputation.’
“Aunt Variety, please stop,” Acheron growled as he pulled his arm free and moved quickly to stand beside Carina and face the angry woman. “Duchess Kirsi is a close friend of mine and was someone my Father—greatly respected.”
“But did your Father know she was a witch?” Variety retorted with a snort of dismissal. “I doubt it.”
“And I highly doubt that would have made a difference,” Acheron retorted coldly. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, I will be taking the Duchess to greet Mother.”
Variety’s russet-brown eyes narrowed as they moved from Acheron and Carina to the six Bastiallano knights assembled around her carriage. “Very well, you may give your greetings, Duchess Kirsi. But then I must ask you to leave. There’s no need for you to linger and distress the rest of our welcomed guests with your presence.”
“Aunt—”
“Is it that you wish to insult me, nephew? You would call a witch a Duchess yet refuse your aunt the same courtesy?!”
Acheron winced and let out an aggravated sigh before offering Variety a stiff bow. “Pardon me, Duchess Variety. But I would ask that you please remember this is my father’s funeral. Please allow my mother to decide which guests are welcome or otherwise.”
“You appear to have forgotten that this cemetery belongs to the Duchy of Hargreve,” Variety retorted with a bemused smile. “Neither Lady Lucie nor yourself are in any position to make that kind of decision.”
Acheron sucked in an angry breath and looked prepared to argue the matter further. Carina quickly placed her hand on his arm and shook her head.
“Perhaps we should go see your Mother now, Lord Acheron,” she suggested with a glance towards the assembled crowd gazing in their direction.
The young lord exhaled slowly, then nodded as he positioned Carina’s hand around his arm and marched away from his aunt and her bristling knights.
***
“Oh!” Lucie Hargreve blinked in surprise as she noted Acheron and Carina headed in her direction. “Duchess! T-thank you for coming.”
“Lady Lucie,” Carina released Acheron’s arm as she stepped forward to accept his mother’s pale hands. “Thank you for allowing me to pay my respects. And please, let me know if there is anything I can do to help you through this—difficult time?”
“Oh, you are so sweet, my dear,” Lucie murmured with a weak smile as she patted Carina’s hand. “No. No, I think we shall be alright. Lord Stryker, my dear brother-in-law, has already assured us he will take care of everything.”
“Everything?” Carina echoed cautiously.
“Yes. Acheron is not quite prepared to take over the business of our estates—”
“But surely Acheron will be named Marquess now.”
“What? Oh, yes, of course,” Lucie nodded enthusiastically as her gaze moved distractedly towards the coffin wrapped in black silk and lace. “Yes, Acheron will naturally inherit his father’s title. But the business of running our lands, dealings with the Viscounts, Barons, and other tenants.”
“I know enough to handle it,” Acheron interrupted with a grimace. “But my uncle, the Duke, saw fit to assign Viscount Kendall to assist and supervise me for the next six months.” He sighed and glanced back in the direction they had come. “No doubt it was Variety’s idea.”
‘Wasn’t Viscount Kendall one of Marquess Borghese’s men?’
Carina frowned as Lucie shivered. The woman’s lips remained masked behind a subtle pink lipstick, but her fingernails were noticeable purple from the cold.
“I’m sure Lady Variety means well. We both need time to recover from—And then, of course, there is Attwood’s position as Prime Minister,” Lucie babbled on with a distracted smile. “Oh my, what lovely flowers. Are those yours, Duchess?”
“Yes. Though I brought them for you,” Carina replied with a smile as she motioned the knights with the bouquet closer and then turned to Isaac. “Captain, would you fetch my fur cloak from the carriage. Marchioness Lucie appears to be cold.”
“Mother?” Acheron moved over quickly with a look of concern.
“Oh my, how sweet you are, Duchess,” Lucie echoed with a faint laugh as Acheron took her hands in his and scowled. “The morning air is chilly but very refreshing.”
“No, the Duchess is right. Your hands are freezing. You should have said something, Mother.”
“I’m fine, Archie.”
The murmur of the crowd pulled Carina’s attention from the worried son and mother. She turned as a shadow fell over her shoulder found herself suddenly face to face with the most formidable member of the Hargreve family.
Duke Stryker Hargreve, Lord Commander of Lafeara’s military, stared down at Carina with the same cold disgust his wife had shown earlier. He was flanked by only two knights, whose presence hardly registered beside the Duke’s scowling glare.
‘This man is supposed to be Beaumont’s father?’ Carina regarded the steel-blue eyes and pale-blonde hair curiously. ‘Somehow, they look nothing alike.’
“Duchess,” Stryker greeted stiffly. “I trust you’ve settled whatever matter brought you here.”
“Is that your way of suggesting I leave, Duke Stryker?” Carina’s bemused tone appeared to irk the powerful man as he narrowed his eyes and took a step closer. Once again, Carina found herself swiftly placing a hand on Larissa’s arm as the water witch appeared ready to draw forth her magic instead of a sword this time.
“The Dowager may have given you your position, Lady Kirsi, but my family has governed these lands since the fall of the Isbrand Kings,” Stryker growled. “And I will not tolerate one of your kind blemishing my brother’s reputation.”
“My kind?” Carina murmured as she tightened her hand on Larissa’s arm.
“The Duke appears to forget that it was Duchess Kirsi who protected his Majesty when you were unable to do so.”
Stryker stiffened and turned as Earl Percy Hawthorne approached, followed by Marquess Winifred, Marchioness Serilda, and several other members of the House of Lords.
“Speaking of his Majesty,” Percy continued with a cynical smile as he brushed past the Duke with little concern. “The Crown Prince’s carriage was just behind ours.” The Earl turned to offer Stryker a cunning grin. “I’m curious as to what his Majesty would think after hearing how the house of Hargreve treated his savior.”
The Earl ignored the Duke’s cold glower as he turned and bowed his head towards Carina and then moved on to offer Lucie a bouquet of white lilies and pink roses. “Lady Lucie, my condolences on the loss of your husband.”
“Oh, sweet Percy,” Lucie murmured softly as she took the offered flowers. “They are lovely. Thank you, dear.”
Carina watched with surprise as the woman reached up to pat Percy’s cheek affectionally.
“Your father would be pleased to see how well you’ve grown up,” Lucie commented as she lowered her hand with a sigh and then turned to Acheron. “You must promise to look after my son in the future, Lord Percy. Acheron will require your guidance until he finds more solid footing.”
“Dear Lady, I’m certain the next Marquess of Heildon will settle down soon enough once he is married and occupied with the responsibilities of his station,” Percy replied with a pointed look in Acheron’s direction. “Perhaps he will find it wise to stay at home with his wife in the future where he will trouble his mother less.”
Carina frowned at the faint warning tone in the Earl’s voice. Acheron appeared to turn two shades paler even as he met Percy’s gaze with a glare.
‘Did—something happen between them recently? I seem to recall Countess Constance mentioned they were friends as children.’
Acheron’s gaze suddenly left Percy and turned towards the elegantly dressed Marchioness Serilda, who smiled at him warmly in return even as she leaned on the arm of Lord Eustice Winifred.
“My condolences, Lady Hargreve,” Serilda murmured softly as she offered the window three white daffodils wrapped in black lace.
Lucie’s distant hazel-brown eyes suddenly snapped into focus as her gaze shot from the flowers to Serilda’s smiling face. A look of shock and anger fluttered over the widow’s face as she reached out and slapped the flowers to the ground.
“Mother!” Acheron protested even as Lucie turned away from her guests to place a trembling hand on her husband’s coffin.
“It’s alright, Acheron. It seems I chose the wrong flower,” Serilda murmured as she retreated with a wounded smile.
“No, please, Marchioness Serilda,” Acheron protested as he glanced from Serilda to Lord Eustice, who wrapped his arm around the Marchioness’s shoulders protectively. “My mother is not herself at the moment. Please don’t be offended.”
Carina narrowed her eyes on the flowers discarded on the ground. In the language of flowers, a daffodil symbolized rebirth and new beginnings. ‘An odd choice for a funeral but certainly nothing to find offense in.’
“His Majesty is on his way,” Percy observed coldly as he glanced between Serilda and Acheron. “Duchess Kirsi, if I could speak to you for a moment after the funeral.”
Carina raised an eyebrow. “I’m not sure—”
“If you could refrain from discussing politics at my brother’s funeral, Earl Hawthorne,” Duke Stryker growled reproachfully.
“Ha!” Percy smirked as he turned to face the Lord Commander. “Perhaps you could give the same advice to your wife, Duke Hargreve. Since I arrived, Lady Variety has appeared rather occupied introducing Earl Coldwell as Hargreve’s candidate for Prime Minister.”
The Duke’s expression clouded over with cold anger that he quickly squashed as the Royal Family made their way through the parting crowd towards the late Prime Minister’s coffin and grieving family.
“Acheron!” Nicholas greeted somberly. The Crown Prince grasped the pale young man’s hand and pulled his friend into a tight, wordless hug that appeared to make Acheron uncomfortable.
Carina’s curious gaze moved from the pair towards Crown Princess Eleanora, who appeared uncharacteristically pale but elegant, dressed in a gown of black and gold. “Your Highness,” she greeted with a polite head bow.
Eleanora’s amber eyes turned slowly in Carina’s direction. For a moment, a look of terror crossed the Crown Princess’s face as she took a faltering step back and then turned to lean on Lady Meredith.
“Your Highness!” Lady Meredith supported her pale Mistress and turned in Nicholas’s direction, but the Crown Prince appeared to take no notice of his wife’s distress as he stood with his back to them focused on Acheron.
“Here, your Highness!” Lady Evelynn pulled a small bottle from her purse, opened it, and held it under Eleanora’s nose. The Crown Princess inhaled, coughed, and straightened stiffly.
‘Fainting salts?’ Carina observed curiously. ‘And from the look of it, this isn’t the first time that Eleanora has needed them.’
“Is her Highness unwell?” Stryker asked sharply with a suspicious look in Carina’s direction.
“No! I am fine, Lord Commander,” Eleanora protested as she straightened and adjusted the familiar crown of rubies that had slid from her licorice-black hair. “I just—haven’t slept very well of late.”
“Perhaps her Highness would feel better if a certain unwanted person would remove themselves,” Meredith observed with a pointed look at Carina.
‘It would seem regardless of my position that they will continue to openly reject me,’ Carina observed with a bemused smile. ‘I suppose I should be grateful that they stopped calling me a half-blood.’
Captain Isaac’s arrival with the requested cloak offered Carina the opportunity to ignore them both. Instead, she carried the white fox-furred cloak over to Acheron’s mother and wrapped it carefully around the trembling window’s shoulder.
“You must preserve your strength, Lady Lucie,” Carina murmured as she pulled off her white gloves and slid them over the widow’s hands. “Acheron needs you more than ever now.”
Lucie nodded and sniffed as a tear fell down her cheek onto the black lace draped over her husband’s coffin. “But he doesn’t listen to me, Duchess,” she whispered tightly. “He never has. One look at that woman—and he loses all common sense.” The window cast a distrustful glance over to where a smiling Serilda had placed herself between Acheron and Nicholas. “I fear she will be the ruin of him.”
Carina frowned as she contemplated the faces that had arranged themselves around the grieving, soon to be appointed Marquess.
It had not escaped her notice that the death of the Prime Minister benefited both the Noble Faction and Royal Faction. Attwood had been decisively neutral, focusing on the security of Nicholas ascension and the nation’s stability over personal gain or profit. But now, his death had created a vacancy that would potentially shift the political power of Lafeara in one way or another.
The Noble Faction would certainly put Earl Percy forward as Attwood’s replacement. Carina couldn’t help but wonder if that had not been the purpose of the sudden ambush after Marquess Borghese had secured his pardon and Priscilla’s position as Royal Consort. She glanced uneasily towards Percy and found the Earl’s gaze upon her, though he quickly looked away as Marquess Winifred whispered in his ear.
Carin turned her gaze towards the Crown Prince, who remained fixed to Acheron’s side with Serilda on his arm. The loss of his most trusted subordinate had also undoubtedly shaken Nicholas, who appeared on guard despite his usual charismatic behavior. The Crown Prince smiled and laughed at something Serilda had said, but his hazel-blue eyes moved restlessly over the group of nobles around them as if he too were questioning the fate that had brought them all here.
Inevitably Nicholas’s gaze turned in Carina’s direction. He smiled as if realizing they shared the same objective but then turned his attention back to Serilda as the Marchioness touched his arm and leaned in to whisper in the prince’s ear.
‘If Percy takes the Prime Minister’s seat, he will have that much more control over Lafeara’s politics. But will that be enough to make him give up his ambitions for the throne?’
Acheron frowned uncomfortably as Nicholas pulled Serilda to his side with an arm around his waist. He took advantage of the Crown Prince’s distraction to move abruptly away, ignoring the murmured condolences of the other nobles as he headed towards Lucie and Carina.
“My Mother appears much warmer now. Thank you, Duchess.”
“Consider them a gift,” Carina replied as she squeezed Lucie’s hand and stepped away to allow Nicholas to take her place. “And remember, if you need my help, Marquess Acheron, you have but to ask.”
Acheron blinked then nodded with a slow, painful smile. “I may take you up on that offer, Duchess.”
“I’ll be waiting then. Forgive me, but I’m afraid I must leave early.”
“Of course.” Acheron glanced over to where Duke Stryker now stood, accompanied by his wife. The Duke and Duchess both watched their nephew and Carina with potent disapproval. “Ah—thank you—for everything, Duchess.”
“I’ve hardly done much to deserve such gratitude,” Carina replied with a shake of her head. “Take care of each other.” With those parting words, the Duchess turned to face the judgmental crowd of nobles once more as Isaac and Larissa cleared a path through them back to her carriage.