Chapter 11 An Unexpected Encounter
An Unexpected Encounter
Considering the number of contestants who had entered Rathe Castle determined to kill him, Arris should have been in a somber mood.
But between reviving the scarlet-haired girl and dodging the flailing limbs of a number of maidens who then swooned at his feet there simply hadn’t been enough time to ponder his death.
Perhaps he would have found time when he arrived at the glass boat, but by then Arris found himself exceedingly distracted.
At a distance, the glass boat looked small and ornamental, its prow carved into the shape of a wyvern with its jaws flung open while its stern resembled a massive, scaled tail that narrowed into a sinister crescent.
But magic had bent the boat’s proportions.
Upon boarding, Arris was greeted by a translucent deck the size of a palatial courtyard.
Silver fish darted beneath the glass floor, their bodies so swift and luminous that it looked as if the depths of the lake had been lit up with candles.
In the center, a long, crystal table groaned beneath the weight of a sparkling wintry feast fit for the hundred or so contestants who were making their way to him right that second.
Arris and Yvlle stood at the boat’s entrance.
On the other side of a silvery veil, Arris could see the hazy, glimmering line of contestants waiting to meet …
him. It was a rather dizzying feeling. Or perhaps it was the rug.
They were standing on a silver carpet embroidered with freshly caught shooting stars.
The stars wiggled angrily, bucking against the enchanted thread and casting flickers and sparks along the boat’s frosty hull.
Tonight was for introductions and impressions before the competition began in earnest, and neither King Eustis or Queen Yzara wished to cloud Arris’s perception of the contestants.
Yvlle, however, had every wish to do just that, and though Arris wouldn’t admit it, he was relieved his sister was there.
His judgment, after all, was famously fatal.
“Hmm … curious,” said Yvlle, eyeing him.
“What?”
“You don’t match the decoration this time,” said Yvlle. “Considering mother chose everything to be transparent, a rather pointed metaphor in my opinion, I was deeply concerned you’d show up naked.”
“I didn’t wish to start a riot,” said Arris, primly.
At that moment, a white toad wearing a small silver wig hopped forward. In a deep, rumbling voice he spoke:
“Your Highnesses, we shall commence announcing the contestants now.”
Arris tried to wave his hand in what he hoped was a kingly fashion but only succeeded in knocking off one of his buttons. As he reached down to grab it, Yvlle made an odd sound.
“On second thought, perhaps you arriving without clothing might have saved you some time,” said Yvlle.
“What in the world are you talking about—oh.”
“Presenting Heka of the Glimmers to Your Majesties!”
The veil dropped and Heka of the Glimmers stepped onto the boat dressed in a sheathe of gold that left nothing to the imagination. Gold dust powdered her dusky limbs. Her lips were gold too.
“You’re drooling,” muttered his sister.
Arris quickly recovered.
“Welcome to Rathe—”
But before he could even finish the sentence, Heka grabbed his outstretched hand, pulled him close and whispered in his ear:
“Your Highness, if you choose me, I will change your meaning of ‘precious.’”
Yvlle gagged. Arris found this to be a very interesting start to the conversation, but Heka was quickly ushered to the feast and Orinthia of the Ulva Wylds entered.
She wore a bulky coat stitched together from dozens of white pelts and pale animal hides.
Arris was certain he spotted a couple of paws and beady eyes somewhere in the jumble of it.
“I look forward to getting to know you,” said Arris.
Orinthia purred in response.
The idea of a woman purring at him had always tickled Arris. But in practice, it was alarming and he ruined the whole thing by asking, twice, if she was choking.
After that, there was Flykra of the Aatos Mountains, who arrived in a loud dress of jangling icicles.
“I was born as ice, but when I heard you were looking for love, I thawed, my lord, and finally dreamt of life,” said Flykra breathlessly.
“That’s … very humbling,” said Arris in as diplomatic a tone as he could muster.
Tears shone in Flykra’s eyes. Arris handed her a handkerchief, but instead Flykra swiped a teardrop with her finger and held it out to him.
“Keep this, as a token of my love. If you choose me, I shall endeavor to never bring you tears,” she said.
Arris stared at her finger. “Er, how—”
The carpet of shooting stars spared him from answering. A moment later, it zoomed her forward, ushering her—a bit forcefully—onto the deck with the other contestants.
“MY TEAR!” she cried out.
After Flykra, there were Thalassa and Pearl, a pair of twins from the Famishing. They both had long, magenta hair and a crescent of pink scales that skittered from their temples to below their collarbones. When they smiled, they flashed their sharp teeth.
Thalassa spoke first: “You are positively—”
“—delicious,” finished Pearl, smacking her lips.
“A pleasure to meet you,” said Arris.
The twins blew him kisses and sauntered off.
Arris turned to Yvlle. “Thoughts?”
“I think they are looking for a meal rather than a marriage,” said Yvlle.
“Cannibalism is a very insulting stereotype of the Famishing folk.”
“Thalassa patted her stomach as she walked off.”
The contestants blurred a bit after that.
There was Sylva of the Ulva Wylds who arrived wearing antlers and offering him a seed.
“A sign of our growing love.” Then Dyane, who, when asked about something difficult she had to overcome, remarked that her skin was exceptionally dry and irritated her constantly.
There was lovely Oona who left a trail of slime in her wake, Irene the healer who offered to mend any broken part of him, Neve who wore an alluring gown of bubbles that became shorter and shorter with every step—Yvlle had to yank his ear when he turned his head to watch her go—and more and more would-be brides who left Arris’s head spinning as much from hope as it did horror.
Arris had just finished wiping his hands clean after receiving a necklace of pulled teeth—some of which still had pink, bloody roots attached—from a Wylds girl when the toad attendant belched loudly and the veil fell.
“Is that everyone?” asked Yvlle.
“That is everyone who chose to attend this soiree,” said the toad. “Some contestants were tired from the journey. Others expressed a desire that the prince should not see them eat lest he lose their appetite.”
“Well that was certainly … something,” said Arris.
“I should mention, Your Highness, that the contestant who needed immediate medical attention has woken and wishes to thank you.”
Arris knew who the attendant was referring to immediately. The girl with the scarlet hair. Something in his chest swooped to remember her.
“I’m glad to hear she is well again,” said Arris. “Did you catch her name?”
“No, sire. She expressed a wish to speak with you in the hothouse, on account of the crowd making her feel quite ill,” said the toad.
He belched and a fly whizzed out of his mouth.
The toad’s tongue whipped out, snatching the fly.
Once he gulped, the toad added: “She wishes to speak with you alone.”
Oh.
Oh.
When his parents first began to throw parties in the hopes he would select a bride, Arris hadn’t seen the point.
He was fifteen years old at the time and had recently read several treatises on asceticism.
For several months he drank only mint tea steeped in morning dew and ate only that which he had grown in his small garden.
At that time, he longed to be a tree and even wore bark in an attempt to hide his skin.
“I cannot fathom the appeal of the flesh,” Arris had said on the eve of his first ball.
But then he met Roxana of the Glimmers.
Roxana had been fun. Lively and gorgeous and always pulling Arris into darkened corners of the Castle and making him achingly aware of every corner of his limbs.
He had not loved her, but he thought, perhaps, he could.
It was the reason he’d proposed. When she accepted, he thought she would kiss him and—though it felt shameful—perhaps do a bit more than kissing.
Instead, she drew out her long, sharp hair pin and tried to stab him.
Thus began Arris’s pleasantly doomed attempts to find a bride.
After Roxana, there was Calantha, who turned into a wolf before he could even propose.
Then Orellia, who tried to poison him with a celebratory glass of fizzing cloud wine after their first kiss.
And most recently, Zelva. Zelva had refrained from attempting to murder him until the day before their wedding, when she lured him to the shore, transformed into an eel and tried to drown him.
Frustratingly for them, Arris proved too adept at avoiding murder.
Even more frustrating was when they realized that if it was his power they wanted, all they had to do was wait.
Enzo’s curse allowed power to be shared with whomever possessed their heart and hand in marriage.
Not proposal. Had they simply walked down an aisle with him, they could have had all they wanted.
When Arris had explained this to a weeping Zelva after he avoided being drowned and broke off the engagement, she had been even more upset.
“But what about your heart?” she demanded. “Are you saying you never loved me?”
It had been a very bad breakup indeed.
“What shall I tell her, sire?” asked the toad.
“I wouldn’t go if I were you,” said Yvlle.
“If my future bride wishes to make an impression on me, what reason would I have to deny her?” said Arris.
“Your record of courting bloodthirsty women?”
“I have to follow my heart,” said Arris, nodding at the toad.