Floral Depravity Read Online Free Page A

marketplace bustling with period correctness.
    All except for the man in modern clothing and carrying a video camera.
    â€œBrad?”
    He turned around.
    â€œWhat are you doing here?” I said.
    â€œSurprise!” He looked me up and down. “I was just telling Nick here that I hoped to see more of you, and I guess I got my wish.”
    I tugged up the bodice of the dress again.
    Brad, here? No, that’s not how it was supposed to be. Nick was the one who was here, the one who took me out for pizza and occasionally beat me in Scrabble. Brad was the one who flirted with me on the phone, long-distance, from wherever his crew was filming their latest reality show. That was the problem with compartmentalizing. Life had a nasty way of breaking down those perilous walls, like when someone tips your takeout container and the pickle juice leaks into your chocolate cake.
    He chuckled. “Seriously, I got the funding I needed to shoot the pilot I told you about.”
    â€œYour documentary on the re-creationists? What was it?
Mid-Evil
?”
    â€œNah, they canned that title. Copy department wanted something with knights in the title. The leading candidate is now
Steamy Knights
.” He rolled his eyes. “Whatever it takes to sell it. But it’s not a documentary. It’s a reality show, so I’m looking for plenty of fireworks between the serious historians and the weekend hobbyists. Hope to get some good footage of the festivities tonight, if my crew ever arrives.”
    â€œThey’re letting in a film crew?” I said. “I would have thought that violated their strict rules.”
    â€œNormally, it would have,” Nick said, eyeing Brad’s modern clothes. “But the powers-that-be have decided a documentary is good for the encampment.”
    â€œAudrey, there you are!” Andrea, now a proper medieval bride, picked up her skirts and rushed toward me. “I can’t wait to see the flowers!” In her long pale blue gown, she looked like she’d stepped out of a painting from one of their dusty history books.
    Kathleen Randolph had described the dress details to me ad nauseum, assuring me it bore no hint of historical anachronism. All I recalled was that blue represented
purity
in medieval times, making it a popular choice for a wedding.
    Designing a bouquet that pleased both mother and daughter, however, took considerable research. We’d finally compromised on white roses. These were not the roses found in modern bouquets, however, but an older variety.
Rosa alba
, and boy, did Liv have fun getting her hands on these.
    Of course, Kathleen zeroed in on the fact that this particular white rose was the symbol of the House of York. She then went on, in great detail, to highlight the Wars of the Roses, but I think I might have phased out for that part. But these were luscious, fully open double roses with a golden center. They were gorgeous, but I was still a bit torn. The white rose generally represented
innocence
, and in one of Kathleen’s old books, she’d found a reference to Dante that claimed the white petals of these roses represented
paradise
and the golden center,
God’s glory
. But I found a later reference to the “York rose,” which I’m assuming these were, that said the flower had come to symbolize
war
.
    But that was the Victorian meaning, and these were the Middle Ages, right?
    Before I could debate the matter further, Kathleen bustled up, also in a lavish period gown. She waved a finger at Brad. “It appears I can’t tell you not to film the wedding, since you already have approval of the camp.” Kathleen glared at him, looking less than pleased at this development. “But can you be discreet? Stay out of sight?”
    Brad nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
    She turned to me. “Yegads, Audrey! What are you wearing?”
    â€œThe dregs of the costume shop, I’m afraid.” I self-consciously