Page 19 of Those Fatal Flowers

“Why such fortifications?” I ask as I climb after her. From above, it becomes clear how many men are tasked with the city’s defense—many, like John, posted as sentries, but even more fortifying the wall with larger pieces of timber. What type of people do I now break bread with?

Cora watches the horizon, scanning the distant shoreline as if she’s looking for answers there. When she speaks, her voice is so hushed that it nearly gets lost on the wind thatwhips past us, chilling her words midair. “Because of what Grenville’s men did.”

“Grenville’s men?”

She turns away from the view, leaning her back against thewooden palisades, and for a moment, she doesn’t speak. Guilt is a powerful silencer, and it’s etched all over her face, impossible to ignore. My stomach sinks. Out of all the ships I’ve seen carrying soldiers—for isn’t that what these people are?—how many of them fought for just causes? They’re preparing themselves for revenge owed for a past atrocity, which means I’ve found myself in a bed of snakes. Every time I speak to someone, the City of Raleigh grows more dangerous. A curious quiet hangs between us, refusing to drift to the ground below, demanding to be acknowledged.

“There was a group here before us.” Her voice is a bit louder now, but the tone is detached, as if she’s sharing an old story she’s heard countless times. “They were led by a man named Sir Richard Grenville. He sent a party to Aquascogoc, a Secotan village on the mainland, to broker trade deals. During the negotiations, someone discovered that a silver cup was missing. Stolen by one of the Secotans, they assumed, and Grenville and his men were quick to retaliate.” Cora pauses, teeth digging into her lower lip. “Men’s egos are so fragile. Can you imagine? Razing an entire village to the ground over a silver cup? Aquascogoc smoldered for days…The wall was built immediately after. It needed to be, to protect the colony from the savagery that was owed tous.”

I think of the centuries of men deposited onto our beaches, their helmets and shields scattered among their broken bodies, their spears and bows still bobbing in the surf. So many on their way to and from wars, to and from committing atrocities of their own. In their final moments, did they see theirdeath as clearly as Cora sees this—as a violent debt finally being repaid? Will the rest of the City of Raleigh’s inhabitants? I imagine Thomas’s smug and confident smile; there’s my answer. But his arrogance will be his downfall. When I cut his throat, the tear of my blade across his skin will break our song’s enchantment. He’ll die choking on his own blood with the knowledge that no god saved him. But what of Cora, and her role in it all?

“It’s time to come down now, Mistress Waters!” John hollers up at us. Cora waves a hand to indicate she heard him, then begins down the ladder without another word. When I reach the ground again, my hands are shaking. Cora’s already a few houses away, eager to put distance between me and her confession. I have to run to catch up to her, the late autumn air whipping my face.

A chill dances down my back in spite of the midmorning sun that shines brightly overhead. In the palisades’ smothering shadow, the fort loses any remaining pretense of safety. Suddenly, it’s hard to breathe.

“Can we leave?” I ask. I hate how weak my voice sounds. How desperate.

“And go where? I told you, there isn’t much to see out there.”

My hand finds my heart racing, and I close my eyes and force myself to slow down. There, behind my eyelids, I see Scopuli’s shores and hear its waves; I know exactly where I want to be.

“Show me where I was found.”

We exit the settlement through the northern gate, escaping into a sparse forest. The trees here are different from the ones on Scopuli. They’re not as tall, similar to the ones onRotunda, though they’re covered in moss. It hangs from their limbs like a strange and beautiful fabric. I lift my hand to graze my fingers against it, bringing a handful of the plant to my nose to take in its deep, earthy scent. Already, I feel my body relaxing. Seeing such unique flora brightens my mood considerably, and I don’t try to hide the smile of relief that spreads across my face. Cora watches me, her lips pressed into a tight little ball. She doesn’t know what to make of me.

Fair enough. I don’t, either. I’ve only ever known myself in the context of someone else. As Proserpina’s handmaiden. As Raidne and Pisinoe’s sister.

As one of a trio of monsters, tasked with luring these men back to Scopuli.

I release the moss so we can continue along. I almost ask her if Roanoke is home to its own shy dryads, though even if it is, she’d never know. Only Proserpina could coax them out from the variegated shapes in their trees’ bark, and even still, not for very long. Some loud sound or unexpected movement in the underbrush always inevitably sent them lunging back for the safety of their oak or elm. They had good reason to be skittish. Their beauty brought them unwanted attention.

“Why did you come back here?” I ask after her, trying to shake off the heavy silence that’s settled over us once more. “After what you did.”

Cora’s head snaps to face me. “What I did?”

“Your people, I mean.”

She straightens, and her hands turn to fists at her sides. The reaction surprises me, and a bitter laugh escapes from my throat.

“Oh, come now. That was a confession you just gave me, wasn’t it? Or do you condone leveling entire villages to the ground over supposed theft? Even if the cup was stolen, that wouldn’t be an excuse.”

I expect her to hurl another insult my way, but instead, her gaze falls to the ground. Shame paints her cheeks red.

“We didn’t intend to stay here,” she admits. “Our plan was simply to collect the last of Grenville’s men on our way north to build”—something stops her mid-thought—“elsewhere.”

“Elsewhere,” I repeat flatly, remembering Agnes’s accusations from my first night, and how Margery’s lips snapped shut the following morning after revealing the city was previously a military outpost.

“When we stopped in Dominica after crossing the Atlantic, we received news that being at sea was no longer safe. So instead of a temporary stop, this became our final destination. But the fort was abandoned. Grenville’s men were gone.”

“Why you, specifically? Why come here at all?”

She scoffs. “My father and Will couldn’t resist the promise of five hundred acres, and I couldn’t stay in England alone.”

I smile sadly. Cora talks as if she had no other choice, but that’s nothing more than a comforting lie. Choices always exist. Even I had one, when I raised my finger and betrayed the one I loved.

“And why stay?”

“We’re waiting for Governor White and the relief ship. The ship we have isn’t large enough to bring everyone back across the Atlantic, though even if it was, we don’t have enough supplies to survive the journey. Seeds seem to die in the soil around here.”

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