Flora & Fauna

.

The back of the silk slip is damp where my freshly cleaned hair sits against it as I walk out to the living room. I bite my lip and blush at the pleasant soreness that still throbs between my legs. There's the sound of splashing water down the hall as Andrius finishes his own bath and steps out to dry himself off.

"Quince?" I call out, "You still here?"

The fireplace is dark but for a few flickering embers. Directly in front of it, a tasseled blanket twirled into a lump jolts and bounces. The sherbert light seems to grow with her frustration as she fights her way out of the fabric. Quince's limbs are still swinging in all directions when she finally escapes. Her fluffy hair is a candy cloud around her sulky face.

"Don't laugh!"

"Sorry," I cover my mouth with a hand, "You weren't too cold last night, were you?"

"No. Just terribly lonely!" She throws herself over the blanket lump with an arm across her face like a dramatic damsel.

"Uh huh."

Sitting down beside her, I stab a metal poker into the embers as I feed in wood and crumpled newspaper. The flames slowly grow until warm light dances across all the richly colored wood of the room. Quince smiles and soaks up heat for a moment before fluttering away. I turn to watch as she flies toward the front door and reclaims her letter-bag that's hanging from a hook. Andrius walks down the hall and sits beside me as he rubs a towel against his hair. Quince lands between us and tips her bag over my lap. At least ten pieces of tightly folded paper fall out. She drops the empty bag and hovers in front of Andrius' face to inspect him. He futilely leans away and makes an uncomfortable sound at how close she flies.

"How could he have this much to say?" I mutter as I begin unfolding all the notes.

"Claudius says it's very important that you study all of it before you return for winter solstice-"

"What?" Andrius exclaims.

I turn back to them both without opening any of the notes. Now that there are several crooked braids twisted in Andrius' damp hair, Quince has finally settled down. She sits on his shoulder and tugs at a thread sticking out from the towel.

"Oh," I sigh sadly, "I thought he would make some excuse for me to be away for solstice. He didn't mention plans for the holiday when I was in Leaven."

With both of them watching beside me, I begin to unfold all the notes. One is a calendar of the current month, others look to be information on excuses he made for my absence since the wedding, details about the fake travels, notes about names I barely recognize, and what to know about their own relationships.

"He expects me to memorize all this junk?"

"You have two days before you'll have to leave for Leaven," Quince squeaks hesitantly, "and I'm sure he only needs you to know the important stuff."

I throw my head back and groan again. Of course he needs me to play the part of a tame wife for solstice as well. I never should've thought I'd be so lucky. Andrius presses all the notes flat and begins reading through them himself.

"Apparently," he says as he skims a page, "you visited an arboretum in Antadon."

I pull his hand down to read the same portion and roll my eyes, "Who's even going to ask about such a thing?"

Quince looks nervously between us.

"It's okay," I amend when I see her worried face, "I'll read all of it and make sure I remember the important bits."

Her wings flutter a little as she smiles up at me.

"And you liked the coq au vin at a place called The Luxuriant?"

"Oh my God, he's insane!"

.

"Remember to bring the notes," the tiny voice sings as she flies by.

I sigh but toss them into my backpack. Quince probably is right that I should be studying them when we stay at inns on the way back to Leaven anyway. There are worse days to set out on a trip. The breeze is cold but not as bitter as it has been. It makes me even more glad that I convinced Quince to let me bring her back to Leaven in my coat instead of leaving her to fly through the sharp, icy wind of the previous days alone. Sunshine bares down from the clear, blue sky and soaks into the many layers I'm wearing. Frost has coated everything in a thin, sparkling layer of white. Andrius stands beside me, silently watching the sky as I buckle my backpack closed.

"We'll celebrate solstice when I get back."

He nods without looking at me.

"You're upset with me," I mumble uncomfortably.

"No. Not with you."

Finally, he looks my way and comes closer to pull me against him. I slide my hands under his woven tunic and run them along the smooth, hard muscles of his back. The sound and feel of the contended hum against my hair makes me believe his words. His own hands explore up and down; twirling in my hair, delicately tracing my spine.

"This would be more tolerable if any one of those notes gave a specific end date."

"Agreed," I pout, "But maybe it means there's a chance he'll send me back early this time too?"

"I hope so."

The loaned horse pushes at the bit in her mouth with her tongue. It seems like she grew used to vacationing in Prophia as well. Quince sits on the horn of the leather saddle with her face buried in the juniper berry she's voraciously gnawing at. Maybe all of us got used to relaxing without Claudius or our fake marriage to put on a show for.

.

"You're late."

Standing frozen in the doorway of my bedroom in his house, I glower at Claudius and scoff, "Your note said afternoon of the nineteenth at latest."

"It's four," he snaps.

"Four is afternoon."

"Four is early evening."

"Fine," I roll my eyes and toss my backpack onto a chair, "whatever."

"Not whatever. And where is Quince?"

Tentatively, I open my coat and we both look down at the quivering sprite peeking out of the inner pocket. The edges of her white, fluffy coat are all pushed up around her face. Quince slowly wriggles out and hovers between us.

"It's my fault," I snap before he can speak, "I told her to come back with me."

"What? Why?"

Quince flutters away, moving her wings as quietly as possible as she escapes the room.

"It's freezing out."

"I know perfectly well what Quince is capable of."

Ignoring him, I swing open both armoire doors and pretend to see the clothes as I slide hangers from one side to the other. Claudius throws a stack of papers down on a desk and sighs loudly. When the door eases open, we both look back and see a maid slinking in. The silver tray balanced on her hand has an ornate teapot, two matching cups, and a dish of sugar cubes in the center. The cups rattle against each other from her nearly invisible shaking. Claudius looks annoyed by her presence and presses his tongue against the inside of his cheek.

"Um," she hesitates, "where would you like the-"

"On the same table as always. Carrie," he interrupts in an impatient tone.

She trembles as she sets down the tray on a pedestal table beside the door. Just as I take a step forward to take over the serving myself, her hand trembles and touches the hot metal of the teapot. The yelp she makes is barely audible, but Claudius angrily barks her name anyway. She leaves the tray and scampers out of the room. He doesn't seem to notice that I'm glaring at him as he pours tea into both of the cups.

"And you wonder why I didn't want to have dinner with you," I grumble as I continue going through my wardrobe.

"What was that?"

"I think you heard me."

He slams his teacup back on the tray so loudly it makes me jump. "She has worked for my family for nearly thirteen years! I shouldn't have to explain what table afternoon tea goes on!"

"So now it is afternoon?"

"Oh, fuck off! I have enough to deal with today. You being late. My father dumping all of his work on my lap again-"

"None of that is Carrie's fault! And don't pretend to me that making maids cry isn't the closest thing to a hobby you have in your miserable life!"

"You don't even know what you're talking about." He dismissively waves a hand at me.

"Don't be so fucking sure."

He throws down the satchel he had picked up and stalks forward to loom over me, "Don't talk about me like you fucking know me! You just fucking got here!"

"The Maple's place. Two summers ago. Twentieth anniversary dinner party."

"What about it?"

"Oh, you don't remember? I'm happy to remind you. Nicolette Maple and I were bogarting the fondue at the end of the banquet table and so we had a front row seat to you berating one of the catering girls in the hallway. Do you even remember why?"

A stunned, silent look is all I get in response.

"Of course you don't! It was probably just any other day for you, wasn't it? And it was probably about fucking nothing, like it always is when you act like that. She was crying when you finally shut the fuck up and went back to the party, you know? We snuck her upstairs so she could get away for a few minutes. And Nicolette took some powder and creams from her mother's vanity to touch up her makeup before she went back to work. Do you want any more stories about what you're really like? From someone who knows exactly who you are?"

"That's not true," he retorts, his voice uncharacteristically quiet and wavering.

"You want to send Quince to ask Nicolette? If you're so sure that I'm lying, she should have a much different story, right?"

"I..." Claudius stares down at me and wilts as he takes a step back, "I'll wait for you downstairs."

The flush of anger still burns too hot in my cheeks and my chest for me to follow him.

.

In all the events we've both been to, I've never known him to be so reticent. I steal little glances at Claudius throughout the dinner. He mostly looks down at his food. Sometimes he's looking completely away from me, staring at the damask wallpaper or out a window. Other than his parents casting me worried looks, no one else at the banquet table edged with pine garland seems to notice.

It's the same that night at the house. Quince silently flutters into my room behind me and keeps close. Neither of us speak as she nuzzles into the pillow beside my own, curling up in a ball like a kitten. I crawl into bed, careful to not jostle her too much with my movements. The light shining through the seam at the base of the bathroom door on his side goes out.

.

"Wait for me here, okay?" I whisper.

Quince nods, her pink-sherbet colored hair a cycloned poof around her face. I tie the silk robe tighter around my body and blink in the early morning sun shining through the window. Even once my ear is pressed to the door leading to his bedroom, I can't hear for certain if he's in. I knock lightly. There's the sound of his heavy wardrobe doors snapping shut, and I take it to be the closest thing to an answer I'll get.

"Hi," I squeak out as I enter his bedroom.

Claudius nods at me and goes back to what he was doing. He flips open a folder and checks something in comparison to notes in his pocket-sized date planner. The folder he slides into his satchel and he turns away to take his peacoat from the back of an armchair.

"I hurt your feelings, didn't I?"

He freezes for a second, then shrugs.

"I'm sor-"

"Don't be," he interrupts, "Not if it was the truth."

I wring my hands and stare back at him.

"It was true, wasn't it?"

I nod. "I could've maybe been gentler about it."

"Knowing me, I wouldn't have listened if you were."

When I look back up, I'm surprised to see how close he has come. He looks away from me for a moment, biting at the inside of his cheek.

"Is that really what you knew me as? How you saw me? Before... all this?"

I nod and my vision blurs with tears at the memory of my father first telling me I was engaged to him. How trapped I felt. There's no point in lying about anything now.

"I was scared of you," I rasp out.

Claudius sucks in a breath and his throat bobs as he swallows hard. "And here I was all that time, thinking I just really, really wasn't your type."

I try to laugh but it comes out as a trembling whimper.

"I'm sorry, Flora."

"Why do you act like that?"

"I don't know." He raises his arms and lets them fall at his sides. "I feel like...every big secret hinges on all the smaller details. It's like I have spent my entire life building this meticulous, fragile house of cards atop a table. And sometimes, when something isn't exactly right, it feels like someone is shaking that table."

"I'm not trying to shake your table, Claudius."

"I know. I know you're not. No one is, really. But the panic is the same." He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a pocket watch, which he shakes before checking the time and putting it back. "I really need to get to my meeting."

"Okay." I nod and frantically wipe at the single escaped tear that I can suddenly feel hot and glaring against my cheek.

Claudius adjusts the strap of his satchel across his chest. One hand goes gently over my shoulder as he pauses beside me. "We can talk more about this later, if you want. But we don't have to."

I nod without speaking and his hand leaves me. The door clicks open and shut. Left sitting on the bedside table is his date planner. With one glance back at the door, I walk around the bed and flip it open curiously. The dark leather is soft and worn along the edges from all the use over the past year. Every box inside is filled with notes written as tiny as possible, some of the writing looping up the sides with arrows to lead the eye. Some of the notes are familiar, duplicates of the information Quince brought to Prophia about the lies he told for me. And on every page are notes about me. Or rather, the life I'm trying to have. Things about Andrius, the work schedule I follow him on. Questions and answers to himself about how much time he can give me surrounding holidays and my birthday. Tiny details that I hardly remember mentioning.

Outside the bedroom doors, I run forward and peer over the balustrade. But a maid is already closing the front door behind him, the glow of Quince at his back.

.

"Oh, Mistress Holt!"

At the sound of the married name, I almost groan aloud. I check my reflection in the ornately, brass-framed mirror hanging in the hall. The front doors are within sight. I nearly made it out without someone seeing my red-rimmed eyes and hearing my sniffles. The dark blue dress that I chose for its warmth unfortunately brings out the sad flush in my face.

"I was just wondering, would you like me to wrap up anything for your husband?"

"Uh." I tilt my head at her. "Do what for him?"

She looks equally flabbergasted. "Your solstice present for Mister Holt? If they're not wrapped yet, there's some lovely poinsettia patterned paper I can wrap them with for you."

"Oh." I stare at her wide-eyed. "fuck."

.

"I'm the worst wife ever!"

The older couple exiting Marko's shop look at me with raised brows as I walk past them. Both are carrying ribbon topped boxes. Marko comes out from behind the glass jewelry cases as soon as we're alone to lock the door and usher me forward.

"I'm going to need you to quantify 'worst wife ever,'" he says without his eyes ever leaving me.

"I forgot to buy him a solstice present."

"Oh, well that's not-"

"And I think I really hurt him."

At the addition, he pauses.

"He was being... you know, how he is! And I had just gotten back so I was all upset too. He said not to be sorry but, I said a lot of stuff and I think I hurt his feelings way worse than he's letting on and I feel awful."

Marko leans against one of the cases, looking thoughtful. "I wish I could say that's hard to do, but it is surprisingly easy to hurt his feelings."

"He probably hates me," I whine and hide my face in my folded arms atop the glass beside him.

"But he also knows when he's in the wrong. It's likely he's more upset with himself right now than with you."

"Yeah. Right. And bears are more scared of me than I am of them."

"Claudius isn't really what I'd call a bear."

"What?"

"What?" He clears his throat. "Anyway, one problem at a time. You need a gift?"

"Yeah." I stand up straight and look through the glass at the display of opal cameo pendants, "I was thinking maybe a pocket watch?"

"Wait. Is he still using that one he shakes all the time?"

"Yes?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake. Come with me."

Marko gestures for me to follow him as he goes through a door behind the cases. It leads me through the study we had coffee and croissants in, the tables and the canvas even more cluttered than before, then to a door that opens to a staircase.

"You don't keep the pocket watches up in the store?" I ask as I follow him.

"I used to." He shrugs, "But everyone always asks to see the fancier, more expensive things around winter solstice. So, I move the simpler, more practical pieces downstairs for the shopping season."

The basement we come out in is lined with alternating rows of dressers with long, thin drawers. Each space between them is punctuated with a lantern. A ring of keys jingles as he pulls it out of his trouser pocket and unlocks one of the drawers. It pulls out so far that it nearly touches the opposite wall. Settled in the dark velvet are pocket watches with various designs on the metal covers.

"I really should stay open upstairs, you okay down here on your own?"

"You trust me not to steal anything?"

He laughs and puts the keys back into his pocket. "If you've gone through all this just to steal some fancy watches, then that is the longest con I've ever heard of and frankly I'll think you've earned the right to steal whatever you want."

Above, I can faintly hear the bells hanging on the shop door jingle each time a customer comes or goes. With all the watches together like this, I realize how much Marko's work focuses on details rather than larger pictures. The front cases are different metals and stones. Some depict classically romantic things like flowers. Others are stranger. A hand tracing the fingers of another hand. The muzzle of a snarling obsidian wolf in profile with all the fangs inlaid with glossy, white pearl. A gemstone portrait of ferns, an eye peering out through the primal leaves.

I sigh as I wave a lantern over the entire drawer. All of them are pretty. But none of these seem particularly right. Not for Claudius. Until a glint catches my eye deeper in the drawer, hidden in the section that's still in the darkness. I rest my hands underneath the drawer and thump it up and down until it comes out. The ungainly length of it tilts in my hands as I set it down on the bare stone floor to get a better look at the aqua colored shine.

"Can I buy this one?"

Marko turns toward me as I come back into the shop area, still turning the pocket watch in my hand, clicking the cover open and shut. The man carrying a box wrapped in shiny green paper loops a scarf around his neck before stepping out. White flakes started to fall while I was downstairs and have turned the cold wind outside the windows to static.

"Where'd you even find this one?" he asks as he takes the watch from me.

"Way back in the drawer," I answer, "Is that okay?"

"Of course. I didn't even realize I had any left of this collection."

The silver case is plain and smooth except for the shape of a chrysalis. Modeled after the first in the Metamorphosis series. A thin crack is split through the chrysalis shape, showing through to the vivid, near-glowing aqua stone of the watch face on the other side. It's one gift down at least.

.

Quince mirrors my motions as we sit at the vanity together. The thick, honeysuckle scented lotion is slow to melt as we rub it over our limbs. Her wings twitch when a gentle knock sounds against the bathroom door. She holds still so I can use the tip of my pinky nail to help unstick the tip of one of her wings from her shiny skin.

"Yeah?"

As Claudius enters, the sprite flies to the bed and bundles herself up in the fluff of my comforter. He clearly notices her, but doesn't say anything about it and only clears his throat.