Flora & Fauna Pt. 09

"That's why I'll need you to come to Prophia in the days before your cycle every now and then. We'll play the part. You can mention odd cravings. Nausea. Then we'll pretend your cycle is a lost pregnancy. I figure we'll do that four or five times before people feel so awkward about the topic they just stop bringing it up. Maybe three if you can fake some tears."

"Wow," I breathe out, "You've had a lot of time to think about this,"

"Just a lifetime," he sighs, "And I only need a week from you. A week and I'll have you back here. With him. And I can be with the man I love. We can protect each other this way, Flora."

Internally, I chase my tail. Knowing that he's correct about everything and not wanting to admit it. I want to curl up in a ball and be cushioned by this protective bubble of a life with Andrius forever. But I look at the cold metal of the rings glinting in the fire light and know it is only possible for so long. I reach forward, nearly touching them before I'm interrupted.

"I can't believe you're buying this bullshit."

I flinch away from the rings and look up at Ares as he approaches Claudius' back. The latter's face twists in sudden anger as he looks over his shoulder.

"He comes here with this story of his forbidden love," Ares leans down and grabs Claudius' jaw, shaking it back and forth as he speaks the last two words in a mocking tone, "because he knows it's exactly the story you'd be soft for-"

"It's not bullshit!" Claudius growls out.

"As soon as Flora says yes to any of this, he'll disappear her into another town and you'll never find her again."

"That's not true," Claudius interrupts again, fists balling atop the table as he makes to stand.

"Who is he?" I ask, before they can come to physical blows.

"What?"

"Who is he?" I repeat to Claudius.

"I..." he hesitates, "I don't think that's relevant."

"You're asking me to trust you with a lot. I think the least you could do is trust me back."

He looks trapped as his eyes flicker over my face.

I sit silently and wait for his answer with my arms crossed over my chest.

"Does he really need to be here?" Claudius yells with a sweeping gesture at Ares.

Ares' hands slam flat on the table. I flinch at the sudden movement. He leans in so close to Claudius that their noses nearly touch.

"Anything concerning my brother is very much my business and my concern. And he chose this girl to be with. So yes, I need to be here."

"If I tell you, it can't leave this room," Claudius says quietly as he stares down at his hands resting on the table.

"You already told me about you, why-"

"Because I don't care what happens to me!" he snaps, his eyes go wide as if he's surprised by his own words, "Not like how I care about him."

"I won't tell anyone. No matter what I decide."

Andrius nods beside me, "Neither will I. It stays here. No matter what."

Ares shrugs and rolls his eyes, going to stand a few paces behind Claudius again, "Who would I tell?"

He looks back down at his hands and lets out a deep breath, "Marko."

The table being so low has to be the only reason my jaw doesn't hit it. In my periphery, I can see Andrius looking back and forth between us with a confused expression.

"Marko?! Marko Thales? That Marko? The sculptor?"

"He's more into oil paints right now," the awkward, wide-eyed expression flashes across his features again as if he spoke without thinking.

"Marko Thales loves you? You?"

"Well," his tongue presses against the inside of his cheek in annoyance, "we've been together the better part of a decade so he either loves me or he's very good at pretending to."

"Who's Marko?"

I turn to look up at Andrius, "Marko is this incredible artist in Leaven. He has this fancy shop and did this sculpture exposition years ago of these big stone chrysalises-"

"Metamorphosis." Claudius mumbles.

"How did you even-"

"I think you know enough about my relationship now."

"Oh." I follow his gaze back down to the velvet box.

"It's just a week," he says without looking at me and so quietly the words sound more meant for himself.

Andrius' hand covers my thigh and squeezes gently. I can't bear to look at him as I suck in a deep, steadying breath. Or as I reach forward to pluck a ring from the velvet and slide it on. The perfect fit of it around my finger somehow makes it all the more vulgar.

Claudius nods once without looking up, then reaches forward for his own ring and reappoints it. His lip twitches in a sneer as he turns his hand and watches the glint of the platinum. We both keep our ringed hands atop the table, far from our bodies, as if we're both afraid of being infected by the symbols. Over his shoulder, Ares watches his brother with a sympathetic expression.

"Let's get a bag packed for you," Claudius grumbles quietly as he stands, "We should leave tonight."

"Tonight-tonight?" I squeak. "Can't we leave in the morning?"

"I am not opposed to getting a night's sleep," he sighs, "but I kept an eye on your father's preparations before I left for Prophia myself. I estimate he's a day behind me, two at the very most. And I have no idea what to say if he finds me here not in the process of bringing you home. So, one of you will have to think of something for me to say if that happens."

The three of us look at each other in silence, then back at Claudius.

"Yeah," he rubs a hand tiredly over his face, "I thought so."

Andrius stands when I do, following a few steps behind me to the bedroom. The backpack I arrived with hangs empty from my fingers as I look around the room. Not knowing where to begin packing up a life I barely had time to start. When I look to the side, his golden eyes are scanning the room as well. I drop the bag and throw my arms around him. He picks me up so I can bury my face in his loose hair where it's cascading over the crook of his neck. His lips press to my face and neck again and again as I hunt for words worth saying.

"It's just a week," I pointlessly whisper to both of us.

More like two, I think but don't say aloud. Considering it's three days there and three days back. But Andrius doesn't need me to tell him how far Leaven is.

Claudius leans against the wall beside the front door, hands in his pockets and thoroughly ignoring the angry look Ares levels on him from across the room the entire time. I pack my bag with what few warm clothes I have, leaving everything else. Every glint off the diamond that catches my eye makes me shudder, goosebumps rising all over my skin each time. As I exit the bedroom wearing the peacoat over my wrap, I see Claudius recognize the garment.

"That explains where my coat went."

I don't answer as I follow him out the front door, with Ares and Andrius at my back. Claudius whistles and two saddled horses trot out from the trees at the back of the house. One of Andrius' hands tangles with mine, the affectionate motions pausing when his fingertips graze the smooth metal. We watch each other sadly in the quiet dusk.

"Are you coming?"

I flinch and look at Claudius. He stands beside a draught horse, one hand wrapped around the leather reins while the second horse grazes a few feet away. Before I can walk forward or speak, Andrius comes to stand in front of me and address Claudius.

"If she's not back here by-"

"Yes, yes," Claudius interrupts with a hand wave, "If I don't return her to you by the agreed upon date I have no doubt you and your overgrown brother will rip my head clean off."

"Bold of you to assume we'd start with the head," Ares sternly threatens..

"I never said which head."

Andrius picks me up when I perk up on my toes before him so I can nuzzle into his hair again. I breathe in and try to hold the sweet smell of him in my lungs. I open my eyes and catch Claudius watching us. The sorrowful expression pulling at his features makes him look like a completely different person than the one I know from Leaven. When he sees me watching, he quickly looks away toward the trees. I tilt my head back, forcing my eyes to swallow the unshed tears blurring my vision. Andrius crushes me tighter against his body as his mouth presses seamlessly to mine. I take the flavor of him and try to memorize every detail of it, before tucking the crystallized imprint away in my heart. I kiss a path down as he lowers my feet back to the ground. The sensitive skin of my lips press against his silky hair. The hot flesh of his throat. The scratchy wool of his sweater.

"It's just a week," he says so quietly I read his lips more than hear the words.

I nod in begrudging agreement.

As I approach the grazing horse, Claudius mounts his own in one fluid motion. After adjusting the straps of my backpack, I throw myself up into the leather saddle of the other. Words press against the inner seam of my lips as I look at Andrius. I purse my lips tight to keep them in and nod instead. He returns the simple gesture. I don't want an audience. And this would be the wrong time. I don't know the right way to say things I've only so far written with a shaky hand anyway. Claudius clicks his tongue and pinches the sides of his horse with his heels, commanding it to trot into the treeline. I follow, almost immediately losing the vision of Andrius and the house. In the dark, I ride beside Claudius mostly by sound.

.

By midday, I'm so tired that I feel limp atop the brown and white horse. I groan and rub my face in sore exhaustion. We're still among treecover, on a slight hill. Claudius is beside me, digging around in a saddlebag until he pulls out binoculars and holds them up to his eyes. A redness has bloomed around his neck throughout the day. He adjusts the collar of his coat with his free hand, tugging it higher to hide the mark from Ares' hand. I sigh loudly, hoping he'll notice and recommend we stop to rest at the nearest inn.

"I was right," he says instead, offering me the binoculars, "Good thing we didn't stay in Prophia."

I raise an eyebrow at him and look through the trees in the same direction he was. Down the hill, in the clearing edged with manicured hedges, are several horses. Most are topped by men in the dark, matching garb of Leaven officers. Addressing them from in front of the steps of the large inn stands my father, chest puffed out and a hand resting on a stocky appaloosa. I swallow the hardening lump in my throat and pass the binoculars back. Glancing up at Claudius, I catch the sight of him shapeshifting back into the pompous asshole I know from Leaven. I stare in silence as he stands up straighter and stiffer. Something in the set of his jaw becomes more square and stern. His eyes lose all the unexpected sympathy they showed when he spoke to Andrius and I. The silver turns cold and cruel.

"You ready to do this?" he asks without looking at me.

"As ready as I'll ever be," I mumble, shuddering under my wrap and the peacoat he didn't bother to take back from me.

Nauseating chill swirls in my stomach as I follow him down through the trees until we stop a few feet into the clearing, not quite at the hedge line. Claudius puts two fingers in his mouth and whistles so loud I grit my teeth at the noise.

"Hawthorne!" he calls out with a hand raised.

The officers and my father all turn toward us at once. I swallow the watery saliva that floods my mouth. They watch silently as we ride down the hill to stop and dismount in front of them. I stare at the ground. The sensation of my father's anger wafting off of him is more than enough discomfort. I don't need to see it as well.

"Flora!" he begins in a yell.

I flinch but don't look up or speak.

"Do you have any idea the-"

Claudius' arm shoots out straight in front of me like a barrier, the sight of that and my father's approach just barely visible in the top edge of my vision.

"Mister Hawthorne," he interrupts, "may we speak in private?"

Inside the warm inn, I snatch a room key from Claudius' hand as soon as he's done paying and immediately dart up the stairs. I have no interest in listening to him tell the story he constructed for why I'm leaving Andrius. The story about me returning with him to Prophia and being humiliated and heartbroken to find that he had a whole harem of lovers he intended to add me to. The disgust I felt when he shared the idea with me was plainly visible. But Claudius is right that it fits in line with what many people believe about centaurs. And, more importantly, that my father would easily believe it. Even though he's right, the story spins around in my head and strangles my heart.

I collapse on the bed, staring up at the gossamer canopy. The woodsy smell of the inn makes me think of Andrius' workshop and I press a pillow tight over my face. The door creaks slightly as it eases open.

"They had some soup and bread still warm from lunch," Claudius says on the other side of the room.

I hear the tink of glass plates being set on the table.

"I don't want it," my whine comes out muffled from under the pillow.

"We've been traveling all day. You should eat something."

I throw the pillow across the room as I bolt upright on the bed, "I said I don't want it!"

The door is already closing when I speak. Claudius is gone. Savory steam rises off the bowl and plate left on the table.

.

"I hope you appreciate how understanding he is being," my father harshly whispers outside the blue and brass estate, "This marriage is a wonderful opportunity that you very nearly squandered, Flora. Claudius is being very forgiving about how you have behaved throughout this engagement-"

I flinch as Claudius' arm loops around my waist and pulls me a step back.

"With all due respect, Mister Hawthorne, I can communicate this all to my bride on my own."

I look up just enough to see my father sputter and stammer around whatever else he was going to say. He finally purses his lips and turns away. I let out a shaky breath as he and the officers leave us alone on the front steps. When everyone else is out of sight, Claudius' arm drops from around me and he turns to walk to the front door.

"Shouldn't I get some of my things from home? Like, my evening dresses or-"

"I already had everything you'll need taken from your father's home and transplanted to the room you'll be staying in here. It's done."

"Oh," I mewl sadly as his key clicks into the lock and the heavy door opens.

As I follow him inside, I'm glad there's no frantic maid pulling my coat off this time. Or, well, his coat. Claudius stops a few feet in, glaring over my shoulder and then down into my eyes before he continues toward the polished stairs. I turn around to follow his gaze. Surrounded by buckets of different colored, sudsy liquids and thick cleaning rags with threadbare centers is a massive red wine stain on the marble.

I suck a guilty breath in through my teeth and rush a few steps ahead to walk beside him, "I'm sorry about-"

"Don't mention it," he grumbles.

I get the feeling he means that literally.

The world tilts when I see the bedroom. All my possessions, my rose toned furniture and plush, white bedding coloring a different room. Like my room was pounded flat into a two-dimensional thing and stretched over an unnatural shape. The wooden doors of a massive armoire painted with blue and pink blossoms hang slightly open, the hems of a couple of my dresses peeking out.

"My own bedroom is on the other side of the master bath," Claudius says blandly, "if you need anything. We have dinner with my parents in a couple of hours. I expect you to look presentable by then. They're on the conservative side. Keep that in mind when you choose a dress."

When I turn around to face him, the door is already clicking shut. I sigh and swing open the armoire doors to peruse my options.

.

With my hair left to its natural waves and still slightly damp against my scalp, I thumb through the various colors and fabrics in the wardrobe. The clove smell from the soap available in the bath makes me wrinkle my nose, so unlike the sugary smells I left behind. At the sight of my clothes, I suddenly remember the one thing I forgot when I dramatically left for Prophia. I drop to my knees and dig among the folded items at the base of the wardrobe. I hear the door open behind me and don't bother to look back at him.

"Flora."

I ignore him and open up a ribbon topped hat box under a stack of folded stockings. He walks closer and stops beside me.

"Flora," he repeats, "Come with me."

"I'm busy."

"I think I know what you're looking for."

I adjust the robe that's over my nightgown and look over my shoulder. Claudius is already turning away and walking through the bathroom. I rush after him and come out on the other side in his dim bedroom. I stand in the light streaming through the door as he kneels beside his own armoire and pulls out something wrapped in paper. He comes closer and places it in my waiting hands. I pull it open and gasp at the sight of the gray knit.

"That's what you were searching for, isn't it?" he asks with a raised brow. "It would have looked suspicious if I let you keep what is clearly a man's sweater. I had to hide it."

I press the sweater to my face and pull in a desperate breath. The faintest trace of autumnal sugar remains.

"Thank you so much. Really," I say quietly, opening my eyes to look up at Claudius.

The uncomfortable, pained look pulls at his features again. I hug the sweater tighter to my chest while I wait for a response.

"I'll wait for you downstairs."

Without another word, he leaves.

.

The sweater I left draped over my pillow and hidden under the comforter taps at my brain as I push food around the porcelain plate. True to his word, Claudius handles all the talking. The smoky blue dress is too high collared for my liking. Probably why I've never worn it before. I stick a finger down the neckline again and tug it this way and that around my skin. The lining has gaps that let the scratchy edges of the lace overlay stick through and rub my skin. I shove an oversized forkful of muddled food into my mouth to distract from the sensation.

His parents seem nice enough at least. His mother prattles on about the wedding. The flavors and colors of the event. All of it is news to me. Since I didn't decide any of it myself. Little nods from me are all it takes to keep her happily talking. Claudius' father mostly speaks to him about business matters. He looks at me suspiciously a few times, but the look lacks the anger my father's had. Every time I sense a question coming about my time away from Leaven, I shove another pile of food in my mouth and let Claudius answer for me.

.

Noise at my bedside wakes me up. I grumble and squint in the early morning light streaming in. The waves tangled around my face smell like him from sleeping on the sweater all night.

"Good morning!"

I squeak out a scream and look around the room frantically as I throw another pillow on top of the sweater wrapped one. Beside the massive mirrored vanity a maid is adjusting my wedding dress and veil on a dress form. I try not to glare at the silk and the beaded straps of blue, swirling mother-of-pearl.

"Aren't you excited?" she asks as she places a pair of shoes at the base of the form.

"So excited I might just die," I mumble as I yank the curtains closed and flop back into bed.

The curtains immediately get pulled back open and I grind my teeth to stop myself from snipping at her.

"What could I possibly need to be up this early for?" I groan.

"It takes time to prepare for a wedding of this caliber," she smiles brightly.

Hours of being roughly prepped like I'm a mangled doll being refurbished for auction pass in an obnoxious blur. Perfumed soaps are frothed into my hair and my waves are pinned tighter than ever against my scalp where they dry into tight, even coils. Rough sugars are scrubbed against my skin until I feel overly delicate and raw. They ask for input once, on makeup, but someone new sweeps in just as I'm about to speak and answers for me. A pale pink lacquer gets painted over all my nails. I distract myself by imagining how Andrius would react to all of this. He would probably try and fail to hold back his laughter at my pouty expression.