Game of Garlands (The Petralist) by Frank Morin

Author:Frank Morin [Morin, Frank]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781946910097
Publisher: Whipsaw Press
Published: 2019-09-04T16:00:00+00:00

10

Pomp and Circumstance, and Poison

A couple days later, Anika stood at the edge of the great hall near a staff entrance concealed behind a ten-foot-tall statue of a Wingrunner in a fully-fracked sprint. Sophie stood beside her, while a dozen other staff members, most in the blue and silver of Prince Theodor’s colors, flanked her, all standing at attention and trying to look invisible. The other florists were in position in various rooms of the palace to watch over the decorations.

The summit was beginning with a great deal of pomp and ceremony. The hall was full to bursting with people, all focused on the long table where Crown Prince Theodor presided. The large chandelier that hung above the table glowed with warm golden light, generated by a Solas. It filled the room with soft illumination, driving back the shadows of the deepening twilight outside.

The prince was dressed in a formal uniform of Grandurian deep blue, trimmed in crimson. His thick, blond hair was longer than military standard, and his blue eyes seemed to twinkle as he spoke in his rich voice, enhanced by quartzite.

“Welcome to my home, friends and neighbors. I extend our hospitality and offer of continuing friendship. We face trying times, but together I am confident we can weather any storm.”

His voice filled the room in a way only a Longseer’s could. It contained inflections not possible for unenhanced voices, and the prince had clearly trained hard in every nuance of his tertiary power. As he continued, speaking of fostering greater friendship between Granadure and the member states of the Arishat League, Anika felt her heart stirring with patriotic pride and with feelings of optimism about the summit.

Beside Anika, Sophie sighed and whispered, “I could listen to him. That voice is better than the finest flower nectar.”

Anika had never actually tried nectar. She whispered back, “Don’t get distracted.”

She scanned the room, her training as a battle maiden reinforced by her work as the palace’s main florist. She saw no active threats from any of the visitors. More importantly, she spotted no flaws in Sophie’s work. The flowers looked spectacular.

The long table that filled the center of the room held the delegates and their aids from all five Arishat nations, along with half a dozen of the prince’s chief advisors and military leaders. Even then the table did not seem crowded.

But Anika’s eyes went to the glorious floral centerpiece. Sophie and her team had produced the finest work of their careers. They’d crafted a delicately beautiful centerpiece that flowed across the table like a vibrant carpet of blues and whites, extending over the sides and cascading down both sides to the floor.

“That centerpiece is perfect,” she whispered.

Sophie allowed a little smile, and Anika was happy to see it. Sophie had been so stressed about that centerpiece, Anika had worried she’d suffer a breakdown. When she’d visited the day before, she’d found Sophie agonizing over the mostly-completed centerpiece.

“What’s wrong?” she’d asked.

“It needs something more,” Sophie had cried. “But I don’t have anything else.

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