Flora & Fauna Pt. 09

When the crowd of doll makers finally leave, I tug a couple of the more painful pins from my hair and let the tendrils free early. Looking in the large circular mirror of the vanity, I tilt my face in the light. The makeup is softer and more natural than it felt like it was when they painted it on. Soft pink is blended into my cheeks and blotted on the center of my lips. At some point in the chaos, they swept my lashes longer, thicker, and lifted high on the outer ends. I look at the dress and sigh.

Just as I'm adjusting the dress on my body and wincing at the silk drape that's so low it shows the dimples on the small of my back, there's a knock on the bathroom door.

"Yeah?"

Claudius enters. His scrutinizing gaze slides up and down my body before he nods to himself. Looking at him in a black fitted suit makes me jealous of his comfort. Especially after days of living in baggy tunics, riding pants, or nothing at all. The high collar of his button-up shirt just barely covers what remains of the red handprint around his throat. I look away and dig through a drawer for earrings that match the mother-of-pearl. He watches me silently for a moment as he fiddles with his ring. Then he turns and shuts the door.

"I understand that," he pauses, "that I'm already asking you for a lot."

"Yeah, you are," I agree and stab a dangling drop earring of swirly blue through one lobe, then the other.

"Can I ask you for one more thing?"

"What more could you possibly want from me?" I ask as I rip out the last of the pins and shake my hair loose around my face.

"Would you be willing to meet Marko?"

I stare at him in shock. Uncertain what I expected. Only sure that it wasn't that.

"Just for a minute," he clarifies.

"Why?" I ask nervously.

"I can tell," he sighs, "I can tell that he's more nervous about this than he wants to say. I think that if he met you, if you were a person and not just some nebulous piece of this scheme, maybe he wouldn't feel so threatened. And I know I may be shooting myself in the foot by adding this but, it would mean a lot to me. If he could feel safer."

"Is he... angry with me?"

Claudius' silver eyes go wide, "No. No, no. Of course not. He knows you don't want to be with me either. And, I know I may be biased here, but Marko really is the most compassionate person I've ever met. He's not going to be cruel to you."

I take a deep breath and nod stiffly.

"Really? Okay, I'll go get him."

I nod again and awkwardly wait alone in the center of the bedroom.

The two of them enter through the spacious bathroom that connects the two bedrooms. Marko steps out from behind Claudius and stares at me with dark brown eyes. I step from foot to foot uncomfortably, flexing my toes in the heeled satin slippers. His olive skin and sharp, pretty features remind me a little of Laith. He's just as tall as Claudius and towers over me as we watch each other. His blond hair hangs over his ears, just reaching the edge of his jawline. It's stuck together in jagged pieces, as if he had it slicked back like Claudius but fussed with it so much the whole style came undone.

"Wow. You're," he pauses and looks me up and down again, "pretty."

The final word comes out in such a tragically disappointed tone that I'm not sure what to do with it. I look away from him.

"I'm sorry," he adds quickly, "That is not the tone that was in my head."

"It's okay," I try to smile at him, "This is weird."

"Yes, it is. I guess this makes us something like in-laws."

I huff out a little laugh and manage to look back up to his eyes.

"I recognized your name. When Claude mentioned you. But I wasn't sure if we've met?"

"Almost."

He tilts his head at me. Claudius stands behind him, leaning against the bathroom door frame and watching us from under his dark lashes.

"I was at your Metamorphosis show. It was back when I had curfew, so I snuck out of the house to go see it."

He smiles bashfully and looks down, some of the blossoming blush hidden behind his falling hair, "Oh. That. Well, I hope you didn't get in too much trouble."

I shake my head and smile at the memory, "I know how to sneak back in."

"I... We really appreciate you doing this," he says earnestly, "Even if one of us probably isn't very good at saying that."

I try not to laugh at the look he gives Claudius over his shoulder.

"I should go," Marko says quietly as he turns away.

"I'll see you downstairs?"

"No," he answers quickly, "No. I'm not staying."

"Oh. Right. Of course not."

The suit he's wearing made me assume. But I feel stupid for saying it. Of course he's not staying to watch the man he inexplicably loves get married to someone else. Worse than stupid. I feel cruel for even suggesting it.

Claudius grabs Marko's hand as he passes in front of him. I sit down on the cushioned bench at the vanity and focus on blotting color further out on my lips to give them some semblance of privacy.

"I love you," Claudius whispers.

I nearly drop the little container of lip paint at the uncharacteristic tenderness in his voice.

Marko's hand tangles with his, "I love you too, Claude. It's okay. Really. We're okay."

Claudius presses his lips to the back of Marko's hand and speaks against the skin, "Flora and I have to have official portraits taken tomorrow morning. But I have some meetings in town around midday. I could slip away to the studio and we could have lunch?"

"I would like that," Marko nods as he pulls his hand away, freeing up the room to lean forward and softly kiss Claudius on the lips.

My eyes prickle with guilt at the sight and I turn around on the bench to face the opposite direction. Only when I hear the door on the other end of the bathroom closing do I look back. Claudius is staring at the floor, his chest rising and falling powerfully as his brow furrows tight over his eyes.

"People will be expecting us to walk down together," he says blankly.

I wipe the residual lip paint off my fingers with a handkerchief. With an empty expression, he presents his arm for me to loop through with my own. I cringe at the revealing nature of the single layer of white silk over my breasts and the low drapery of the back.

"Your parents are going to hate this dress, huh?" I say to fill the awkward silence as he opens the door for us.

"It was a conservative dress about twenty butcherings ago."

"I was just trying to make a joke."

He grunts in response without looking at me. I wonder if he even heard me. As we walk down the hall to the top of the marble stairs, I can hear people already partying below us. Laughing voices and the tink of glass on glass. The notes of happy music being played deeper in the house. I try to think of this as only a party. I've been to countless parties. But the feeling of the diamond topped metal strangling my finger reminds me every second that it's something else. I look up through my lashes at Claudius. All the gentle sympathy is gone again.

The way he manages to paint a cocky smile on his face as he sweeps us through the extravagantly dressed crowd is so impressive I can't stop noticing it. Claudius hands me a flute of champagne as soon as we descend the stairs. The guests around us raise their own glasses and shout their congratulations. I down the glass in one mouthful and snatch another from the closest table. Everyone is happy to let my soon-to-be husband speak for me. None more happy than I. He answers the prying questions expertly. Just enough detail to let it twist from mouth to mouth into a thoroughly believed narrative. Not enough detail to make spaces for deeper questions or doubts. Girls I recognize from other events grab my hand to praise the ring. There's not enough champagne in all the world.

"Slow down on the liquor," Claudius whispers against my ear.

"It's medicinal," I whisper back.

He rips the half empty glass from my hand and sets it on a table we pass.

"You have to be able to say at least two words without slurring," he adds as we reach the opposite end of the ballroom.

He has nothing to worry about, considering the faint buzz I gained is instantly gone when we reach the petal dusted aisle leading between rows of seats. Ending at a priest who is busy adjusting his collar. My legs lock up under me, only moving again when Claudius tugs me forward. I look down at where the slight pooling of white silk touches the edge of the aisle. Claudius' arm unloops with mine and I gasp, looking up at him with fear at the thought of being on my own. He pulls the veil forward. My mouth goes dry as the gossamer white descends over my vision. The room grows quiet as people find their seats and await our nuptials.

At least people expect me to be nervous.

That's what I try to tell myself as we walk down the aisle. As the priest reads the impersonal vows. Sadness prickles at the backs of my eyes and in my nose as my chest heaves in time with my frantic pulse.

That wasn't even close to enough champagne.

The anxious buzzing in my head is so loud I can barely hear. Tentatively, I reach out and wrap my fingers around Claudius' palm. I feel him flinch at the contact. The priest keeps talking as Claudius looks down at me. His hand gives mine a single, gentle squeeze. He flicks his eyes from mine toward the dais and back again. I look up and realize the priest has gone silent. Waiting for me.

"I do," I answer quietly.

"By the power vested in me, in the presence of God and the witness of friends and family, it is my privilege to pronounce you husband and wife!" the priest's raspy voice declares, "You may kiss the bride."

I feel a flinch in Claudius' hand again. I half-expect him to sneer down at me. Expect him to smugly declare how he tricked me. I look through the haze of my veil just as he turns to look down at me. Whatever grasp he has on his character has slipped. His face wears the same angry heartbreak I can feel splintering across my own. It is hidden a blink later. He raises my veil and lets it fall back onto my loose waves. I have to resist the urge to turn away as he grips my chin and tilts my face up. A tear slips loose and fills my ear as his mouth goes over mine and the guests behind us erupt in cheers.

The tip of his tongue enters my mouth just enough to look romantic from the outside but holds still and gives my own space. The cigar taste on it nearly makes me gag. When did he even have time to smoke a cigar? I can feel in the tension of the kiss that he's no more happy with me. He pulls away not soon enough.

Hidden away upstairs, I top my toothbrush with a fresh glob of toothpaste and try to scrub the cigar flavor out of my mouth. The door opens, but I don't look at him. Claudius silently reaches into the inner pocket of his suit jacket. The click of what he takes out finally makes me turn toward him. In his hand is a rectangular tin full of spearmint lozenges. I take several and toss them into my mouth. They fizz loudly on my tongue as I quickly chew them up.

"Sorry about the cigar," Claudius says as he closes the tin and slides it back into his pocket, "I needed something for my nerves. I didn't think about... the taste."

"Whatever," I mutter as I put away my toiletries for an excuse to look away from him.

"We have to go downstairs and dance."

"Why?" I demand, hating the way my voice cracks around the word.

"Because people expect us to."

Part of me feels guilty for the anger that's making the tips of my ears burn. The part of me that can't stop replaying the tenderness I saw between him and Marko. But my week here has only just started and I already want to scream. And they get to have lunch tomorrow. For the moment, I feel worse for myself.

"Why are you even doing this?" I snap before I can think better of it.

"I already explained-"

"You're a rich man. You can do whatever you want. Stop acting like you're the one here with no options."

"I'm not rich."

"Have you not noticed we're standing in a mansion?"

"The mansion, the deed of which bears my father's name? Do you mean that mansion?"

While I'm still staring at him in stunned silence, Claudius walks closer and leans against the countertop with his back to the mirror.

"But," I pause, "all this expensive stuff? You're one of the richest men in Leaven."

"No, my father is. There's a trust fund. I don't have access to all of it. I get a set amount each month that is considered my payment for working under my father," he sneers at the floor and huffs out a bitter laugh, "I'm thirty and I live on an allowance like a fucking child."

"I... I didn't know that."

"No one is supposed to," he turns to face the mirror and brushes back a few flyaway hairs, "But I'm far past the point of having secrets from you, aren't I?"

"Marko seems nice," I say pointlessly when the silence stretches on uncomfortably long.

Claudius only responds by opening the door and offering me his arm. I check my reflection, then loop my arm through his and allow him to guide me back to the ballroom.

"Blech," I stick out my tongue as he centers us under the chandelier that casts shards of light down on the shiny dancefloor, "I hate this song."

"Well, think of it this way," his hands take mine as he leads me in the dance, "at least we're not ruining a song you love with this memory."

He says it in such a grave, gloomy way that I can't help but laugh. One side of his lips quirks up in a smile, even as the rest of his face fights back against the expression.

.

"We'll only have to sleep in the same room for appearances once or twice."

I nod in the darkness then, realizing he can't see me, answer aloud, "Okay."

The bed is so massive that there's at least a twin mattress of space between us from where we're positioned on opposite sides. We each emerged from our turns in the bathroom in full pajamas. The sight was an added layer of assurance that he has no interest in me. Although those worries were barely surviving after seeing the completely different person he is with Marko.

"Do we have to... make sounds?"

"No," he answers in a tired grumble, "Marko and I checked the privacy of the rooms once. Speaking at different volumes, from different areas, to be certain if anyone could listen in. They're surprisingly sound proof."

"Oh. Neat."

"Unless you want to be known as a screamer," he adds.

"No thank you."

"Good. I don't want to be known as someone who married a screamer."

"Is there anything I should know to say? If people ask why we're not sleeping in the same room?"

"I was just going to tell them you snore like a chainsaw."

"Fuck you."

"It was supposed to be funny," he says after a long pause.

Yanking more of the fluffy comforter over my body, I turn my back to him and curl up tight on my side of the bed. Unlocking the hidden memories, I close my eyes and think of the life I've begun with Andrius. The warmth and affection of his handling of me. I burrow my face into the sweater wrapped pillow and breathe in. It almost feels real.