The Queen and the Clattersnake
The night before her wedding, Demelza snuck into the kitchens of Rathe Castle.
She couldn't sleep and she was hoping to find some warmed milk.
Instead, she found her future mother-in-law milking a venomous scarlet-banded clattersnake over a bowl of porridge.
Demelza paused by the door, hoping the queen would not notice her.
She could not remember the last time she had stood so still.
Ever since she had flown into Arris's arms, she felt as though she had not touched the ground.
Within hours of Arris announcing her before the assembled ballroom as his betrothed, Demelza's belongings had been moved into a palatial wing perfectly appointed to her tastes and comforts.
There was even a small turret, a miniature of the tower where she and her sisters had slept, where the Castle had constructed a nest-like bed canopied by billow lilies and fog violets.
"It's perfect," Demelza had said, and the floors glowed in delight.
The wedding date had been set for the following week, which had driven Edmea into a fit because she "needed time to construct a gown so startling even the dead would rise to glimpse it." Ursula, whose mother had brought her the idea of opening a canteen on Ulva Wyld's famed training grounds, had accepted—well, demanded—the task of planning a wedding banquet and a cake and thus would remain on the grounds until then.
Talvi also stayed back, though it had nothing to do with the wedding and everything to do with her research.
To that end, Arris had granted her special access to the archives of Rathe Castle.
"Research on what?" Demelza had asked.
But Talvi remained cryptic. "You'll see."
Invitations had been sent out the same evening of the ball, and though Demelza had been worried about her family's responses, so far they had been nothing but gracious.
Excited, even. Her sisters would be flying in to celebrate her from every corner of the world.
The only trace of disgruntledness had come from her mother, who had written her a note with a single line:
Clipped wings are harder to bear once you have had a taste of flight.
She understood Araminta's hesitation, but she was certain that once she met Arris, things would change. She would see the warmth in his eyes. She would learn that he had not hesitated to restore her winged necklace. She would be as happy for Demelza as she was for herself.
By dawn, Araminta and all of Demelza's sisters would arrive.
And despite his position as the kingdom's permanent persona non grata on the grounds of repeated treason and attempted murder, special allowances had even been made for Prava so that he could at least see and speak with Demelza.
According to her mother's letter, this "generosity" displayed by the royal family was about as welcome to him as "a knife to the back." He had refused to write a note to Demelza.
In the space where her mother had allowed Prava to inscribe a message, there were only a few dried tears, some of which had burned a hole in the parchment.
Demelza sighed when she saw it. She had imagined Prava would be delighted and scheming about her influence in Rathe Castle, but the news had turned him maudlin instead.
Sometimes when he got in these moods, Demelza would find him curled up in the brooding nest, bemoaning how all his daughters had grown up and what if they forgot his birthday?
Perhaps Demelza would have fretted more about her father, but her new routine left little time for reflection.
In the mornings, Arris and Demelza breakfasted with courtiers.
In the afternoons, Arris met with his secretary and Demelza familiarized herself with the various guilds and departments.
Already, she had sat in on meetings with the Guild of Imported and Exported Enchanted Fabrics, the Alliance of Medicinal, Magical and Morbid Botanicals, the Underwater Consortium for the Protection of Cannibalistic Sea Beings and at least several sessions where spies shared gossip from around the Isle.
In the evenings, Arris introduced her to his arboreal relatives in the Grove of Ancestors—Argento had even offered her one of his apples—and they wandered through the dusk, stealing whatever privacy might be had from the indulgent, ancient aunts now turned to flowering black oaks or spindly spruces.
With the wedding so close, Rathe Castle had become zealous in maintaining a sense of propriety.
The other evening, Arris had tried to surprise her with tea and cake as he had done so many times throughout the tournament.
The moment he snuck out of his bedroom, the Castle rug seized him, rolled him up and delivered him outside the door to his parents' bedroom, where he remained until morning.
"It could've been worse," Arris had said. "It could've been the itchy rug, and then my night would have truly been intolerable."
Demelza was happy. She saw her friends—friends!
Even now, her heart rejoiced in this. Every time Arris reached for her hand and brushed a kiss across her knuckles, she felt as though she had turned to candlelight.
Whatever had grown between them was still sweet and new.
Demelza thought she'd be frightened, but all she felt was excitement.
She was safe. She was luminous with love, though she did not know that of herself.
She found King Eustis charming. Yvlle reminded her of her sisters and seemed to have made room for Demelza almost immediately. Arris was … well, everything.
The only person Demelza felt uncomfortable around was the queen. Queen Yzara was not unkind. But she was not particularly welcoming either. With this in mind, Demelza quietly backed away from the kitchen entrance … but she was not as stealthy as she had hoped.
"I see you, child," said Queen Yzara, not looking up from her task.
Demelza bristled. If she were to retort, "I am no child," then she would most certainly sound like one. But she didn't want to wave off the insult either.
"Waging a war in your head of how to sound poised rather than petulant?" asked the queen.
Her back was to Demelza, but she seemed to know when she nodded because she laughed.
"Let me clarify, then. I call you child' not because I consider you one but because I am reminding myself that this is how someone else sees you. Your mother and father, perhaps. Or a grandparent. I call you that to remind myself that you have been loved and cherished and nurtured to this first flush of adulthood."
The queen finally turned to face her. She smiled pleasantly as she released her hold on the clattersnake. It hissed once before vanishing into the gaping sleeves of Yzara's blue satin morning gown.
"I call you that so that I do not hate you."
"H-hate—" Demelza stammered. She ran through every interaction she had ever had with the queen and frowned. "What have I done to make you hate me?"
"It's not what you've done," said Yzara. "It's what you could do. You could kill Arris—"
"I wouldn't—"
"No, no," said Yzara. "You could. Let us not pretend otherwise. Love for a veritas swan is deadly, is it not? When their beloved dies, so do they."
"Yes," said Demelza. "So why would I kill him?"
Yzara held her stare. "Because you love him. Because he might hurt you one day. Because he might fall out of love and you, in your despair, might consider that the only weapon you have left is your own life."
Disgust reared through her body. Demelza balled her hands into fists. "What a terrible thing to say! I am not like that. And you seem to have a very poor opinion of your own son."
"You mistake me, child," said the queen. "It is not my son I have a poor opinion of, but the condition of the human heart in general. There is so much unknown in the act of loving and being loved."
The queen's hand absentmindedly drifted to her belly.
"When my children were born, I felt fear first … love followed later. Or perhaps they are the same thing," said the queen.
"With Yvlle, I knew that if I sharpened her teeth, the world could not harm her. But with Arris … it was different. From the moment he opened his eyes, I knew he lived on borrowed time. I also knew that no amount of love I had for him could protect him, for he belongs more to the Isle than he does to himself. As you well know."
"Yes," said Demelza, feeling chastened for some reason. "I know."
The queen reached for a spoon and stirred the porridge into which she had milked the clattersnake.
Then she reached for a porcelain bowl full of black sugar and sprinkled it generously on the surface.
Satisfied, she placed the porridge on a nearby tray, where it sat beside an identical bowl that was ostensibly not poisoned.
"Is that … is that for the king?" asked Demelza.
She was unsure what else to say to the queen and she couldn't tell if the other woman resuming her task in the kitchen meant that Demelza had been dismissed.
"I try to kill the king at least once a month," said Yzara, her voice bright.
She laughed when she saw Demelza's expression.
"To you it might sound barbaric, but this is how we honor choice in our marriage. Every time I try to kill him we are acknowledging a beautiful fragility balancing atop the most powerful foundation in a marriage. Do you know what that might be, Demelza?"
Demelza hated being put on the spot for a surprise test. She hated looking like a fool even more. She reached for a clever response, but her mind pulled blanks.
"Um … love?" she tried.
"No," said Yzara. And this time her gaze was so chilling it could've conjured frost up Demelza's spine. "Choice."
"Oh."
"I choose my husband. I choose my marriage. We choose one another despite knowing what damage we might inflict," said Yzara. "That is why I poison him every month. To remind him. And myself."
"I don't—"
"You have not chosen my son," said the queen.
"Do not mistake my loathing as a sign that I shall rise against you. I know you have earned your right as queen. As queen, I honor you in advance. You will no doubt prove to be an excellent ruler of the Isle. In that, I am secure in the fate of the kingdom. But you tell me that you won't harm my son because it could harm you.
That is the worst kind of choice. Yes, you might love him, but how long can love last without true choice?
Without trust? As you have reminded me, Demelza, you have no option but to keep him alive for your own sake.
And though I can see my son is quite taken with you, I fear that this marriage will be a slow poison.
I fear that he will be heartbroken. I fear that he will be hurt.
And from that fear stems my hatred of you, child. "
Demelza felt a lump in her throat. With each word, Demelza saw a different future sprawled out before her.
Every time she saw Arris, his eyes brightened.
Now, she imagined that spark dimming. She saw herself restless and pacing.
A bird with clipped wings who knew that flight would kill her, but yearned to feel the sky all the same.
Demelza hardly noticed as the queen picked up the tray and made to leave the kitchens.
"Know that I pity you too … love without choice is little better than a leash, and I would not wish such a love on my worst enemy," she said.