Chapter 27 The Lingering Legacy of Queen Vania the Vain #2
“With these ingredients, Queen Vania changed the atmosphere of any room she entered. With a dab of perfume at her wrist she could start wars or end them. She could conjure the fragrance of first love and the stench of simmered resentments. She was not truthful, but she was always honest with herself,” said the queen.
“It was her unflinching honesty that let her be what others wanted—or needed—her to be, for she never wavered on who she was. That was her magic and that is the question I pose to you now … One of you is the future queen, but who are you? Can you behold the honest truth of yourself and distill it?”
Queen Yzara let the question hang in the air for a few moments.
“Do note that this exercise is an optional one. To reveal who you truly are is always a risk, but perhaps the reward will be beyond what you could ever imagine.”
The queen dipped her head ever so slightly and then vanished once more through the pearl walls.
“The sooner we’re done with this, the faster we can leave,” said Edmea, pinching her nose as she reached for some flowers.
Ursula shuddered. “That’s true enough—Demelza! Demelza, what about your perfume?”
“You heard the queen! It’s only an optional exercise, which I’m choosing not to exercise!” said Demelza as she hastened to the exit.
Talvi called after her, but by then, Demelza was too far away to hear what she’d said. She needed to get out of that room. Inside that chamber of pearl, all she could hear was a storm full of whispers.
Little bird little bird, what do you want?
Your past is a hunger and your future is a taunt …
Little bird little bird, you want all you can get
You and your reflection have only just met …
Demelza had not been the only one affected by the pearl chamber, but the whispers had revealed that she could never answer the question of who she was … and in truth, there was no need for her to do so. It wasn’t as though she was a real contestant, anyway.
Outside the pearl chamber, Demelza tried to forget the whispers, but they scuttled about in her mind.
Annoyed, Demelza tried to sing them away.
She continued singing as she stared at the water, watching the lace of sea-foam that the waves knitted one second only to unravel the next.
Her voice rose higher, matching the ocean’s chaos until—
“This is either a fortuitous or dangerous meeting,” said a familiar voice.
Not far away stood Prince Arris. He was attired rather informally.
The sleeves of his ivory shirt were rolled to his elbows and his trousers were cuffed to his knees.
His vest, black silk embroidered with silver stars, was unbuttoned.
As usual, he was barefoot. Less usual, he looked thoroughly rumpled and creased, as if he had not slept well in ages.
When he saw her, he broke out into a huge grin, which immediately annoyed her.
“What are you doing?” demanded Demelza.
Arris did not look as though he wished to answer, but the truth magic of Demelza’s song was impossible to withstand.
Arris looked mortified. He clamped his lips shut, but the words snuck out anyway:
“Daydreaming.”
Demelza wasn’t going to push the question any further, but perhaps her magic felt as if it had been improperly utilized, because Arris gasped for breath and, in a rush, declared:
“For some reason I have been daydreaming about being cursed and turned into a statue that women from all over the world weep over and kiss in an attempt to bring me back to life, but it’s to no avail and then hundreds of years later a beautiful woman says she longs to know who I really was and kisses me and that’s when I come back to life and all this stone and rubble falls off my arms as we embrace and birds sing and everyone I ever wooed feels terrible about having tried to kill me. ”
Arris blinked. His face turned red. He heaved and gasped for more air before holding up his hand:
“Demelza, I beg of you, please do not ask any more questions. My daydreams are a theatrical and depressing realm and they are bad enough to wander through without the embarrassment of divulging them to anyone else.”
“Fine,” said Demelza.
She almost crossed her arms, but didn’t want to look upset. There was no reason for her to be angry.
“What are you doing there?” asked Arris.
“Avoiding your mother’s optional trial of fragrances,” said Demelza.
“Ah,” said Arris. “I take it you had no interest in distilling Essence of Demelza?”
“It’s intended as an exercise for the future queen and, as you know, I am not a real contestant.”
Arris’s grin fell. “Yes. True. I keep forgetting that.”
Demelza was clearly in a mood to torture herself, for she then added:
“Unless you wish for me to be a real contestant?”
Imagine, thought Demelza, if she didn’t come home because she’d run off to become a queen instead. Her father would be furious not to have her heart for his spell … but then again, Prava had always hoped for a greater presence in Rathe Castle.
“Are you … wait,” said Arris. “Are you saying that you’ve fallen in—”
“No! No, of course not,” said Demelza, cutting him off. She did not want to hear him say that word. On instinct, her fingers touched her neck, as if desperate to clutch at a winged necklace that was not there. Such a necklace would never be there until her heart decided it had found her true love.
“I am not looking to be controlled. I am looking for security,” said Demelza. She cleared her throat. “We could have a marriage of convenience. We could wed and I’d be safe and you could live your life and I’d still be able to discern who is lying to you and who isn’t.”
Arris stared at her. “Is this a proposal?”
“Do you want it to be?” asked Demelza.
What in the world was she doing? It was like testing the tenderness of a bruise …
seeing how far one could go without more injury.
Arris studied her. His gaze flicked to her hair—which Edmea had styled in a fashionable pile atop her head to disguise the remaining mud and brambles—and then to her dress—a high-necked confection of green lace that Demelza thought made her look like a shredded frog, but which Edmea had insisted was the height of fashion—and finally, her lips.
Edmea had painted them with the slightest bit of rouge.
It was quite subtle, but, as Edmea said, “loud enough that if you kiss a man, it’ll leave a mark.
” The thought had made Demelza blush that morning and now she was blushing a second time all because the prince’s scrutiny dragged her back to the moment where they had kissed and something had beat violently inside Demelza’s chest. Like a pair of wings.
“You and I want the same thing,” said Arris.
Demelza’s heart skipped a beat.
“We both want security … we both want to trust that we shall be safe,” said Arris.
“And I don’t think we would have it in such an arrangement.
How do I know that you would not find it more useful to kill me?
After all, I’m sure the wizard Prava would be thrilled to have one of his daughters installed in the Castle, wouldn’t he? ”
Demelza said nothing, but her silence spoke for her.
“I thought as much,” said Arris, looking away from her.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. And then Arris moved a little closer.
“You look different,” he said. “Have you—”
“Edmea and I have been spending time together,” said Demelza, patting her hair. “Why? Does it look bad?”
“No,” said Arris. “Just … well, I guess what I’m trying to ask is if things were different…”
He trailed off and now it was Demelza who moved a little closer, and in the space between them, something urgent and fragile seemed to bounce between their very bodies. It was a moment that might become anything … a truth … a kiss …
But it vanished when Talvi stepped out of the sea cave.
“Oh!” said Talvi. “I’m so sorry … I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything?”
She curtsied to Arris and smiled at Demelza.
“No, not at all,” said Arris quickly.
“I was actually looking for you, Demelza,” said Talvi. “They’re about to put away the table of ingredients and I wasn’t sure if you wished to give it a try?”
“No,” said Demelza. “I wasn’t planning on participating.”
“Are you sure?” asked Talvi. “It’s quite fun, you know … well, once you get used to the strange walls. Ursula got mad that the ingredients weren’t edible.”
“Yes, I’m sure,” said Demelza, smiling.
“As you wish,” said Talvi. She curtsied to Arris. “We look forward to your company at tonight’s feast, Your Highness.”
“I am counting down the minutes,” said Arris, nodding.
Arris fell quiet again and at first, Demelza wondered if she felt his gaze on her, but when she looked at him, he was staring in Talvi’s direction.
“What?” she asked.
“Oh … I … I was just thinking about how it always catches me by surprise how someone can be almost ordinary in one moment and, well, breathtaking the next,” he said.
When he met her gaze, he looked embarrassed. No doubt he felt extraordinary pity for her and had no wish to rub someone else’s beauty in her face. It was kind of him.
“Yes,” said Demelza.
The sea wind ruffled his hair and the light danced on the ocean. Arris looked handsome and soft and within reach in a way that Demelza could not explain but that she knew would hurt her. Clearly the day was conspiring to make a fool of her.
“Breathtaking,” she echoed.
“Demelza—”
“I have nothing new to report,” said Demelza. She should not cut off a prince, but he looked pitying and she could stand many things but not his pity. “If I do, I’ll let you know, but I’m not certain there will be anything to gather after tonight’s feast.”
“Oh,” said Arris. “Of course.”
“See you at the feast,” said Demelza, walking off.
“Goodbye?” called Arris.
Only when everyone had left did Demelza creep back into the pearl chamber.
The whispers might have chased her away, but she would not let them define her.
Alone, Demelza surveyed the wreckage of the table.
The jars and ingredients had been upturned.
Herbs had been clipped. Bones had been ground to dust. At the far end of the black table sat several gleaming fragrance bottles.
Who are you, who are you, little bird, little bird
Or perhaps, perhaps, you can’t find the words, find the words …
“You’re right,” said Demelza to her warped and glimmering reflection. “I don’t know who I am.”
But she wanted the chance to find out. And it was that pure want that she distilled.
When she ran her hands over the table, the ingredients of her own unfinished self called out to her.
Spring buds and pond lilies, an ever-burning ember and a tincture of morning fog.
All her yearning, her frustration, the things she did not yet know that she loved and hated, and all the hope that followed she braided together through the strange magic of the pearl chamber.
Who was she?
She didn’t know. Not yet. It was an adventure still unfolding and Demelza was determined to greet it with open eyes and an open heart.