Page 61 of Queen of the Night
The field before us holds his unwavering gaze. “Don’t you remember the drawing I showed you? Do you know what these are?”
I shrug, looking out over the field, using all the talent I have inside me to look and sound completely innocent. “Uh, well. They do look sorta like tulips.”
I could kick myself for my response, but my brain feels blank as I fight panic, and I struggle to come up with a new strategy. His bicep brushes my shoulder, and I startle. I hadn’t realized he was so close.
“Blacktulips,” he says low as he scans the gently waving flowers. He pulls the journal out and flips to the familiar page, holding it out for both of us to see.
Breathe in, breathe out. What in the blazing deathstalkers am I supposed to do now?
“They look sort of… purple… to me. You sure this is the right field?” I want to slap a hand to my face. How many fields of tulips do I expect us to find?
“It’s the right place.” He sounds confident as he snaps the book shut and tucks it away, then trades his sword for a small knife he pulls from within his armor. He kneelsbefore the first of the tulips and reaches down. My eyes are as wide as the two suns left in the sky watching his hand grasp the stem. Time seems to slow as he places the blade of his wicked-sharp knife against it and presses.
Nothing.
It doesn’t even mar the surface with a scratch. I inwardly sigh in relief.
“Thought so.” He shakes his head as he stands. “I can’t take one. Only Lucentia, one of her Queens of the Night, or one of those birds can give me one.” He adds quietly, “They’ll do so only if I’m worthy.”
Well, the second option sure as blazes isn’t happening. Good thing I controlled the impulse to pluck one from the field, or I would have given myself away without knowing it. A bead of sweat trails between my shoulder blades. It’s an uncomfortable feeling, not knowing things I should know in a situation where naivety could ruin everything.
“How do you know all this? The journal?” I ask, doubtful.
He nods. “A small bird gave my grandfather the flower. He was worthy.”
The last part comes out sounding like he thinks he’snot. But how? He’s the most capable, respectful, caring, fair, good…Stop it.He’s the blasted high king, and my heart will not be softened. But he does have my curiosity piqued.
“What did you mean about being worthy?” I ask.
“Only a king deemed worthy by Lucentia herself or one of her Queens of the Night, who will care for the Black Tulips as Lucentia first instructed, will be allowed to take one of these tulips.”
That’s comforting, but not enough to break an oath. Is it? My heart wants to ache for the hint of desperation in his voice, in the lines creasing the corners of his eyes. I decide I can let it.I can feel his pain even if I can’t fix it the way he wants me to. I can’t risk the lives of my Tulip sisters.
Ikar stands, sheathes the knife, and stares out across the flower ocean. I’m not oblivious. I see how tense his muscles are, how rigid his shoulders. I see how his hands grip and regrip his favorite weapon, the muscle tightening in his jaw the longer we wait for something to happen. It’s torturous for both of us.
After several very long minutes, he still doesn’t make any inclination to move. Since I’m not prepared to break an oath to my Tulip sisters, and I have no idea what to say in a situation such as this, I figure I better get comfortable because I’ve seen no evidence of the lucent magic goddess around here, and the birds seem content to live their lives as normal.
I sit down in a patch of sparse grass and grab a piece to twist around my fingers, but he suddenly walks up to the first of the tulips that make up the vast field—so close I fear he’ll step on them. I sit up straight and watch as they begin to bend away, forming a path that grows and lengthens the span of the field, directly to the face of the mountain. Ikar seems to consider traversing it for a moment as he takes another step, and with dread, I remember what he once told me—that if he should fail in finding the tulip flower and a Black Tulip to bridge with, he’d try to offer himself to Lucentia. That was before I knew he was the king, and it’s only now clicking into place.
I find myself horrified by my response that day. I may not be able to give him a flower, but I can’t let himdie. My entire body tenses, ready to spring up, run after him, and snatch him back. I’m halfway to standing, but before he goes any further, Rupi,of all birds,comes soaring out of the sky, swoops through the waves of flowers, and soars back into the air with a single tulip clutched in her beak. I don’t even know how such a small bird can fly with a flowerof that size.
I realize what’s happening then. Iwillher to drop it. To eat it. Whatever she needs to do so that she doesn’t bring it to Ikar, but I watch in horrified disbelief as she coasts straight to his shoulder and preens at the wide grin he bestows on her as she drops the tulip gently into his hand. I feel a momentary stab of jealousy, wishing it was me who had given him the flower and imagining his reaction. I set my jaw and shove the thoughts away.
He rubs a large hand down her tiny body, whispering his thanks. Rupi has never looked happier. If I thought she was a traitor for liking him before, it’s nothing compared to now.Bad, Rupi, I scold her in my head. It seems like she hears it because she turns her head slightly so she can look at me innocently with one of her dark eyes. But I sense a hint of reprimand about her that makes me defensive. What does she expect me to do? I used to be able to trust her implicitly; now she’s been so swayed—by akingof all people—that I’ve lost my needed guide.
I narrow my eyes at her, but she simply tips her beak in the air with that bit of attitude she always has and continues to soak up Ikar’s warm affection.
“You’re much more than you seem, aren’t you?” He directs his deep voice toward Rupi and strokes her thoughtfully.
After getting her fill of his attention, she takes flight, and Ikar stands there, staring at the tulip reverently resting across both his palms. It’s a moment evenIdon’t dare interrupt. He eyes the path that leads to the mountain again. Instead of traversing it, he kneels, rests one elbow on his strong thigh, and bows his head, placing his other hand and the tulip in the soft grass. He whispers words I can’t hear, but somehow I feel Lucentia does. The slight breeze lifts and blows his hair and cloak around him, seemingly in response. Even in his submissionto Lucentia, he’s never looked more powerful. I’m left staring helplessly until he stands.
He looks over the field once more, then turns toward me. I try to avert my eyes quickly, so he doesn’t realize I’ve been staring. It seems inappropriate with how important this moment is for him.
I glance at Darvy and Rhosse several yards behind us. They wait, stoic and silent, while their king basks in the triumph of finally securing a black tulip. Hopefully that’s theonlysort of black tulip he’ll ever hold. That thought triggers a revolting image of one of my Tulip sisters in his arms. I force the image away with the shake of my head.
When I look back at Ikar, he’s digging through his pack and pulling out a long, intricately carved box, before opening it and gently placing the tulip inside. “It should keep the flower healthy until I can use it.” He looks at me like he expects a response, but I can’t think.
That image of a Tulip sister in his arms has become intrusive. What if it was Petra? Or Tatania? Fina? My stomach twists with jealousy. I simply nod, the piece of grass now crushed in my sweaty grasp.
