Chapter 26 An Unlikely Ally
An Unlikely Ally
When Demelza entered the new residences, she found the interior much changed.
A great fireplace draped heavily with moss took up one side of the stone wall, which was nearly invisible from the tangles of ivy and wisteria.
A semicircle of strangely mismatched armchairs and couches surrounded the fireplace, while an impossibly soft rug of woven flowers—pink larkspur and fuzzing daisies, cat’s ears tulips and slumber nettle—sprawled across the floor.
The ceiling was the leafy canopy of a squat oak, the trunk of which disappeared through the floor.
Held aloft in the branches were a half dozen glass windows that allowed sunlight to glaze the room.
Nearly hidden by the tangle of ivy and the sprawling oak appeared a slender hallway lit by fireflies, through which Demelza could only assume she would find their new bedchambers.
As with all things in Rathe Castle, the chamber defied logic and beauty and Demelza loved it with a ferocity that almost rivaled her love of Hush Manor.
“Demelza!” said Talvi, waving at her from a chair carved of ice. “Come join us.”
Demelza slid off her shoes and let the petaled carpet tickle her tired soles. The remaining contestants had also only just arrived and were each flopped in their respective chairs wearing mixed expressions of exhaustion and delight.
“I’m finding it a bit crowded,” said Edmea, rising from her pink and gilded chaise. “My advice would be for everyone to refresh themselves. For those of you who can, perhaps rid yourself of any mud and grime?”
Edmea shot Demelza a parting smirk before vanishing down the hallway.
For a moment, Demelza was struck by how lonely the other girl looked bereft of her usual attendants.
Normally, she wouldn’t give Edmea’s comments a second thought, but there were so few of them left that her words seemed to dangle in the air.
Amidst the collection of strange seats appeared an armchair that looked identical to Demelza’s favorite seat in Hush Manor. It was as if it had been placed here just for her.
Demelza hesitated. If she took her place amongst them, would they recoil? Laugh at her?
She wanted to be the sort of person who was confident that such things didn’t matter.
And in terms of her agreement with Prince Arris, the reaction of the contestants meant nothing.
But it still hurt. Demelza forced herself to look at the girls and saw Talvi smiling encouragingly.
Ursula raised her hand in acknowledgment.
But it was Zoraya who startled Demelza. Her chair—a gold winged-back construction—was right beside the empty one. Zoraya patted the empty seat.
“Don’t mind Edmea,” she said. “I think she feels like you outdid her in the trial.”
Demelza felt a spark of warmth as she took the offered seat. There were so few of them remaining. Only Zoraya, Talvi, Ursula, Edmea, Cordelia—and her.
“So we’re…” started Demelza.
“The finalists,” said Talvi. “I almost can’t believe it.”
Cordelia smiled and her sharp teeth glinted. “Now it’s only a matter of removing the remaining competition.”
Ursula’s stomach grumbled. “Do you think they’ve actually canceled the luncheon?”
“Did you see the prince?” Zoraya asked, leaning forward rather conspiratorially. “Dressed in his nightclothes! How odd! Do you think he spent his evening in someone else’s bed?”
The thought immediately unnerved Demelza. She could guess why that was, but she had no desire to examine the feeling.
“I doubt it,” said Ursula. “I was up all night foraging in the woods and I saw no sign of anyone lurking about the grounds.”
“What do you think, Demelza?” asked Zoraya. She sounded a touch annoyed as she added: “You seem to be able to keep secrets with the prince.”
“Yes, in fact it appeared you were quite taken with one another the other day,” said Cordelia. “It was…”
Demelza could tell she was searching for a word both polite and cruel, and did not see the point in entertaining it:
“Surprising? I know,” she said. “The prince has unique taste, one might say.”
“Agreed,” said Ursula. “We were going to do a recipe exchange but he wanted me to try mixing cheese and fruit, which I think is disgusting.”
“That’s exactly what Demelza meant,” said Talvi.
“He’s a rather good kisser, isn’t he?” said Cordelia, twirling a green strand in her hair. “I took a tiny nibble of him and was rather delighted when he bit back.”
“I found it a little underwhelming, to be honest,” said Zoraya. “I thought he’d be more, oh, I don’t know, sad? Where is the urgent kiss of someone who thinks they will die any moment?”
“Perhaps he has had plenty of practice with that and is no longer quite so bothered by mortality,” said Demelza, annoyed that her voice came out a touch higher than intended.
“Shame,” said Zoraya. “You know, Edmea said he has a talent for knowing exactly what to whisper into a lady’s ear. He can charm anyone. And he smells divine.”
“That’s true,” said Ursula.
Demelza looked at her sharply. “Have you kissed the prince?”
“Just once,” said Ursula, shrugging. “Hasn’t everyone?”
“I haven’t,” said Talvi.
“You’re the only one, then,” said Zoraya, laughing.
Demelza forced herself to sit still and listen.
She spoke of kisses she’d never had and laughed at all the right jokes.
And all the while, she recognized that she was being ridiculous.
What she felt was entirely normal, down to her jealousy and irritation.
The kiss had affected her. It had been her first, after all.
She had no claim to his lips. She was not even in this competition.
Even when she had succeeded on her own merits, Arris hadn’t noticed.
He hadn’t even believed it was possible.
Was it because of the mud spatter in her hair?
Did she reek of something uncouth and unpolished?
She wasn’t a feral girl … her mother was Araminta of the veritas swans. Elegance ran through Demelza’s veins.
Or, at least, it should have.
Arris would never have any reason to doubt that Talvi or Edmea were capable of both cleverness and elegance …
“Pardon,” she said, standing. “I suppose I should change.”
“For the luncheon?” piped up Ursula, hopefully. “Do you think once we’ve all changed then it shall start?”
“Maybe,” said Demelza.
A few hours later, Demelza could not believe her luck.
She was on her way back from the bathing chambers—a place of stained glass windows filled with spearmint-scented steam and warm pools—when she found Cordelia slinking out of a room that was not hers.
Demelza knew this because the doors for each of the contestants’ chambers were emblazoned with their names and Cordelia’s door was at the far end of the hall.
Of all the contestants, Cordelia proved the hardest to get alone. She was always on the fringe of a group, not quite part of the gathering, but never truly on her own. Sometimes Demelza suspected that Cordelia watched the other girls as closely as she did.
Demelza glanced behind her to where the scented steam spilled into the hallway.
When she had left, Talvi and Ursula were still luxuriating in the pool, while Zoraya was combing oils through her hair.
She had not seen Edmea, and yet it was Edmea’s room from which Cordelia crept.
She watched from the shadow of the archway as Cordelia carefully removed a pair of inky black gloves …
and then Demelza opened her mouth and sang.
The tune was like a drunk raven cawing and Cordelia winced to hear it. Demelza knew she did not have much time.
“Who are you trying to harm?” asked Demelza, crossing the floor.
Cordelia went rigid. A muscle in her jaw flicked. She tried to keep her mouth shut but the magic coaxed out the truth …
Demelza burst into Edmea’s room. Even in her state of panic, she could not help but register the wild differences between her room and Edmea’s.
Their rooms appeared to have started off in the exact same way, but Edmea’s bore no resemblance to its original appearance.
There were colorful silks hanging from the ceiling, lights strung up around the windows.
How in the world did she manage to get ahold of a bower of roses?
thought Demelza. The moment she saw Demelza, Edmea shrieked and clutched a shimmering dress of scales to her chest—
“PUT IT DOWN!” Demelza yelled.
Edmea kept screaming. At her touch, a tinge of scarlet crept down the dress of silver scales. There was no time. Demelza ran toward her, snatching the dress out of Edmea’s hands and throwing it in the fire.
“What is wrong with you?” Edmea said. “Do you have any idea how expensive that was?”
For a few seconds, the flames had no effect on the silver dress. They merely clambered over the scales. Edmea grabbed a nearby poker to remove the dress from the fire when all at once, the dress fell apart, melting into a pool of foul-smelling silver ink. And blood.
Edmea stared at the puddle, some of which had seeped past the edges of the fireplace. “That looks an awful lot like the ink of a spotted eel…”
“It is,” said Demelza, breathing hard. She yanked the poker out of Edmea’s hands and pushed the dress even farther into the flames. The scales—still impregnated with the malice and venom of the poisonous creature—emitted a low-pitched whine of displeasure.
“But that would mean—”
“That someone tried to kill you, yes,” said Demelza. “Did you prick your finger on anything recently?”
“No? Well, actually…” Edmea blinked. “Cordelia handed me a note and I might have gotten a small paper cut. I remember being very angry about it, but Cordelia apologized and I … I thought nothing of it.”
“Cordelia must have kept hold of the bloodied paper and managed to mix it with eel ink,” said Demelza.