47. Crowns

The flowers had been delivered but Helena was yet to return from the throne room.

Maureen was combing River’s hair and Mischa was braiding Catrin’s.

Quinn was twisting the stems of green ferns, white roses and lilies together to create a crown.

All of the flowers had been chosen and the only left were red roses and the blue flax flowers.

I knew Helena would have preferred the roses.

I sat next to Quinn and started to weave my crown.

Everyone was excited about The Rush of Flowers, other women in the dormitory weaving their flower crowns and talking about the dancing and the music.

I tried to appear interested when Maureen offered to comb my hair out for me before I wore the flower crown.

Luncheon in the dining hall was only half full of tables.

Many staff members had already gone down to the city center to begin celebrating.

Helena joined us at the table and talk of the evening enveloped us.

After a meal of plums and fish, we returned to the dormitory so Helena could weave her crown of red roses.

And then we began the walk down to the city center.

Pikestully was alive with flowers, the stones beneath us strewn with petals and ferns, garlands crisscrossing every street and wreaths were around every horse’s neck and on every door.

Every woman and girl wore a flower crown of some sort and wealthier women had floral embroidery on their gowns.

Music and singing poured out of every tavern, brewery and square.

Every large intersection we walked by had been turned into a place for dancing.

Again we passed the Angler forge, but this time I kept my head turned away.

When we reached the brewery, I looked around but saw none of the Procurers or Alric and his twin.

Fletch’s wife and her sister set down a stack of tin cups and pitchers of the pear cider we had the first time as well as an ale with a berry flavor.

Eefa and Bronwyn came and sat with us, flowers in their hair as well.

The sisters had given them the day off until the evening when patrons would be crammed into the building.

Eefa was subdued, her belly now sitting out farther from her, but she did not seem unhappy.

Bronwyn seemed to relish her new life and was eagerly telling us how Eefa had a knack for brewing.

Eefa denied this, but seemed pleased at her grandmother’s words.

We sipped at our cider and ale for hours, picking at a plate of nuts and fruit we had ordered.

I laughed at Mischa’s continued imitations of Jeremanthy’s men who tripped over themselves at finding a voluptuous woman working in their general’s chambers.

Hours flew by, the nine of us talking and Eefa and Bronwyn soon had to stand to work behind the bar, filling jugs from the wall of barrels behind them and topping off the tin cups brought to them by patrons.

“They’re here,”

Helena said, eyes on me and Mischa.

The three of us sat at the end of the table.

“Who is?”

Mischa asked, looking to where Helena had tipped her head.

My back was to the door and I refused to turn.

“She means my husband and both of your betrotheds.

And likely my husband’s family.”

“Are they big men with red hair?”

Mischa asked.

“I think so,”

I sighed.

“I am sure I should stand and go meet them.”

Helena turned to Mischa and gave her a brief account of the exchange on the stairs.

“Why is he so disagreeable?”

Mischa asked and swilled her cider.

“We were entirely civil and polite for a while and then he ruined it,” I said.

“He is almost as disagreeable as Perch,”

she said.

“That big, dumb animal comes into Jeremanthy’s and refuses to acknowledge me.

How rude is that?”

Helena smiled timidly over my shoulder, I imagined at Thatcher and then looked away.

“How long can I pretend I do not know they are here?”

I asked.

“I’ve no desire to meet his family today.”

Most likely, he does not want me to meet them, I thought.

He probably, like his former lover, did not think me good enough for him.

With that thought, I knew I was about to be in my cups.

“Do I seem drunk?”

I asked them.

“We can tell, but I doubt anyone else can,”

answered Mischa.

“You seem… hurt,”

said Helena gingerly.

“Hurt?”

“I think he hurt your feelings.

I do not know why he was irritated by flowers, but his …briskness upset you.”

Her face was wary like she had crossed a boundary.

I nodded.

“He did.

I have been trying to be courteous and he just… does not care.”

“It doesn’t matter,”

Mischa said, looking around.

“This place is full.

And continuing to fill.

You can act as if you do not see them.

I’m acting as if I have not seen the fish man.”

“Is that not what you just accused him of doing to you in the infantry offices?”

Helena asked.

I laughed.

“Her own rules don’t apply to her.”

“They do not,”

said Mischa.

“I have been thinking of bedding him, however.”

Helena and I gave her blank looks.

“He is a good-looking bastard,”

Mischa said offhandedly.

We continued to stare at her.

“It’s always better if you do not like them a little bit and you know that,”

she said, defensive.

“Anyway, it’s been ages since Brox swived into me without giving me any pleasure.

The fish man might have better manners in bed than he does standing up.”

“Will you take him into your bed and call him ‘fish man’ then?”

Helena asked, trying to look appalled, but failing.

“Ask him if he wants to swim in your seas,”

I suggested.

We laughed at her proclamation that Mischa would never speak to us of the inner workings of her mind again.

She swigged the rest of her cider and declared she would get our jug refilled.

I held out my hand and offered to do it.

I made my way to the counter and waited next to a pack of men in Tintarian black tunics.

They were sneaking glances at me while I waited for Fletch’s wife to notice me.

When she did, I requested a jug of water and one of the pear cider.

I placed a copper coin on the counter, but a callused hand covered mine and I looked up into my husband’s face.

He pushed my hand and the coin back towards me and put his own coin on the counter.

We stood next to each other and waited on Fletch’s wife.

She placed the two jugs in front of me, grinned at Alric and then moved on to other patrons.

“This your bride, captain?”

one of the men in black said to Alric.

My husband turned to the men and nodded.

I noticed their backs straighten.

Alric placed his left hand on my back and collected the handles of the two jugs in his right and steered me back to my table.

“Edith, I have a favor to ask.”

“Ask, husband,”

I said, my voice casual, but not looking at him, only ahead of me.

“Do not do that,”

he said, sighing.

“Do what?”

“Call me ‘husband’ in that way.

Like it is another word for nuisance.”

I stopped walking and turned to him, people milling about us going to and from the counter.

I stared at him as he removed his hand from my waist and put it around one of the jug’s handles, so that each of his hands held a jug.

He did not look at his hands while he did this, only at me.

“What is the favor?” I asked.

“My family wants to meet you.

I would ask that you come sit with me.”

“I am in my cups.

That is what the water is meant for.”

“You do not seem drunk.”

“Well, I am.”

“It will be brief. Please.”

I will not shame you and I hope you will not shame me.

“Take the jugs to my friends first,”

I said and he did so.

I caught both my friends’ eyes as he tentatively placed his hand back on my lower back and walked me across the brewery floor.

Before we reached the table, he said, “I have never thought much of flax blooms before.”

“You cannot pay a compliment can you?”

I taunted.

I was definitely in my cups.

He exhaled through his nose and said nothing.