Rise [Bruno Mars]

Chapter sixty-three

Chapter sixty-three

For the past two weeks or so, operarii shifts were shortened, and so when the pinks and the golds bled into the late afternoon sky, a quiet descended over the palace, where not a sound, a muffle or a cry, could be heard. Joseph had turned friends against each other on that fatal night, and during this time of day, even though all the blood had been wiped clean so that the marble shimmered, one could almost hear the screams, the moans of the dying, sounds deafened by the flames that erupted to take their bodies in light, which left behind a smell of charred flesh and smoke that gave way to a covenant's fragility.

Families had been sent away, and spied upon, because their anger sprouted claws that sunk into the regret I wore over my cloak.

"These things happen," Jane would say. "They forget why guards exist."

I always kept my dagger close to my hip, because it was true, completely true that without Joseph, I felt less safe. But at the same time more reckless. And all the while decreasingly selfless.

Next to the dagger was a packet of seeds.

At last, the fields were empty of burnt wood, its overwhelming scent carried off by July wind. My mother kept close to my heels as if she were afraid to get too far again. She'd attempted several times to reach me over the past months, but Joseph had not allowed it. Just when she heard the news of his death, she'd come hurrying back.

She arrived a little under an hour ago, and the palace had exploded in joy at the sight of their mater, gave them some peace I was glad for. Yet the news only went so far. It did not travel to the ears in the fields.

Not corn, but Rev sat underneath the shade of a tree. His wolf had her head on his lap. Several nights ago, I bumped into him here.

"Rev," I gasped when he had come up soundlessly behind me. "I did not know you were out here."

"It was a nice service, wasn't it, girlie? It was good that he was surrounded by some that cared for him."

All I managed was a nod. Rev squinted.

"What's that you got in your hand?"

"Hydrangea seeds. I was going to plant them. They are. . . one of his favorites."

Rev smiled, and I could not look at it. "He liked flowers, didn't he?"

"Of all kinds."

"We can plant them together."

Presently, Rev stared in our direction because Sandy had gotten up on all fours, barking and running in circles with her tail swishing furiously back and forth. A smile touched Rev's face. I focused on his dog. Ris was a sorrowful little thing when she had to return her to her rightful owner. However, she kept Fidel, which made her happy.

"Girlie." Rev stuck his cane into the ground as he lifted himself onto his feet. "You have more of those—?" He stiffened, gripping tight the hook of his cane, and blinked rapidly. "Is that. . .? My eyesight's gone bad. Is that you, Ellen?"

She stepped out from behind me, taking in Rev's ghastly appearance with a hand over her mouth. "Dear God," I heard her whisper.

Rev lowered his face into one hand, showing his balding head, and began to cry.