Chapter Forty-One Sweet and Savage Clover
Chapter Forty-One
Sweet and Savage Clover
“So,” Calla said, “we’ve been dropping hints for the past few weeks—”
“Subtle hints,” Liam added.
“—that we think she should go easy on you. That it wasn’t your fault, and you can hardly be blamed if Gervase was in love with someone else.”
“But also that it wasn’t his fault.”
“Or anyone’s fault, really, except maybe the evil princess’s, since she’s already dead.”
Liam’s thumbs were tucked into his pockets, his fingers tapping fretfully against his legs.
Although his discomfort might have been attributable to the swarm of bees clustered around Calla’s head.
“We tried not to push the evil-sorceresses-are-the-problem thing too hard, though,” he said. “We thought that might, um, backfire.”
They’d met us in the gardens at the base of the palace.
They must have been keeping an eye out because Sam and I had barely dismounted before they ran up to us, already spouting plans before we had a chance to so much as say hello.
It was a bright, clear day, and the gardens were in full spring blossom, the pansies and daffodils aglow with color, the air scented by rosemary and mint.
Scattered cherry blossom petals dusted the paths.
A few of the nearby beds had been planted with white or sweet clover to rest the soil.
Calla had placed a few flowers in her hair, and a cloud of bees hovered over them contentedly.
Liam was brave enough to stay within striking distance, but Sam’s stallion had backed away, pawing at the ground nervously.
Sam murmured soothing nonsense in the horse’s ear to calm him down.
Poma, who had judged the bees to be a less noteworthy threat than murderous stone giants, regarded the scene with tranquil disinterest. But for my part, I decided to forgo giving Calla a hug.
There was a rustle in the bushes nearby, and Jonquil and Gnoflwhogir emerged from one of the narrow, winding pathways, cherry blossoms clinging to their shoes.
“We’ve been explaining to Mother that it wasn’t your fault—” Jonquil began.
“I think we got the gist of it,” I said. “How’s it been going?”
There was a long pause, filled with the buzzing of bees, while the four of them eyed one another.
“I have a backup plan,” Gnoflwhogir said.
“Does it involve stabbing?” I asked.
She looked affronted. “You think this is my only idea? Of course not stabbing.”
“Sorry.”
“First, I will light everything on fire—”
“Maybe I should talk to her,” I said, “before we try anything too rash.”
Gnoflwhogir sniffed and swatted at a bee that had ventured too close. I flinched in reflexive sympathy, but it didn’t sting her. Maybe it didn’t dare.
Sam had managed to calm his horse. “Do you want me to go with you?” he asked.
“I think I should face her alone,” I said. “But I wouldn’t mind if there was someone waiting for me outside the door.” I took a steadying breath. “Shall we?”
“Wait.” Liam plucked a sprig of clover off a stalk and pressed it into my hands. “Take this.”
It was, I saw, the rarer four-leaf kind. I twirled it between my thumb and forefinger. “And what will this do?”
“Do?” He looked surprised. “Nothing, hen. It’s for good luck.”
“So,” Gnoflwhogir said, “once the fire is lit, I will shout, ‘Look! An invisible army is attacking!’ ”
“Darling, we’ve talked about this.” The fraying patience of Jonquil’s voice suggested it had been discussed many, many times. “How could you see an invisible army?”
“You can’t. That’s the point!”
Sam and I climbed up the stairs that wound back and forth outside the palace, inching our way up to the dizzying height of the main gate.
The others stayed below to talk Gnoflwhogir out of her ill-advised rescue plan.
We left them mid-argument, my sister-in-law doggedly lighting and relighting a torch even though Jonquil summoned a wind to blow it out every time.
I ran my hand along the smooth stone of the walls.
Unbroken and unmortared, carved out of the mountain in a single piece.
As familiar as everything was, I felt distanced from it all, like I was visiting a place I hadn’t seen since childhood.
This was hardly the first time I had returned to the palace after months away.
But this time, everything seemed irrevocably changed.
“WHO DARES TO BEG FOR AN AUDIENCE WITH—”
“It’s me,” I told the guards.
“OH, HI, MELILOT,” Humba yelled. “LONG TIME NO SEE.”
“AND WHO’S THIS DELICIOUS MORSEL?” Femus’s single eye looked Sam up and down. “MIND IF I STEAL A BITE?”
“YES, INDEED,” Humba agreed. “WOULDN’T MIND GRINDING HIS BONES TO MAKE MY brEAD.”
Sam cracked his knuckles. “Try it. We’ll see who ends up a loaf of sourdough.”
“OH, I LIKE HIM,” Femus said.
I put a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Settle down. They’re joking. They don’t eat people anymore.”
Sam looked at me askance. “Anymore?”
“Is Her Royal Unpleasantness inside?” I asked hastily. The last thing I wanted was for a fight to break out between Sam and the ogres. Although, I thought rather smugly, if it came to that, I’d put my money on Sam.
“SHE’S BEEN EXPECTING YOU,” Humba told me. The ogres hauled open the massive doors, which made their usual earsplitting screech as they scraped against the floor.
I sighed. “Of course she has. Play nice while I’m in there. Talk about, um, stuff that strong people talk about.”
“WHAT DO YOU BENCH?” Femus asked obligingly.
“Horses, usually,” said Sam. I could tell he was distracted, his gaze following me as I slipped through the doorway.
“DO YOU TRACK YOUR MACROS? EVER SINCE I STOPPED DEVOURING HUMAN FLESH, I’VE BEEN HAVING TROUBLE GETTING ENOUGH PROTEIN—”
The doors were pulled shut behind me with a dull, reverberating boom.
Most of my confidence evaporated as I crossed the wide gulf of the throne room.
My bootheels clicked on the mosaic tiles, the images of teeth and eyes and scales, bone white, night black, corpse blue, pus yellow, the colors as vivid as the day they were set into the floor.
In the distance, a figure waited, silent and still on the obsidian throne.
I rubbed the four-leaf clover between my fingers, hoping it really was lucky.
It released a pleasant scent, like hay or new-mown grass. Sweet clover. Melilot.
Had I been overhasty in refusing Gnoflwhogir’s offer of a rescue should it all go wrong?
Or for that matter, rejecting Sam’s suggestion that I never come back to Skalla in the first place?
We might have tried, at least—done our best to hide from her.
Perhaps I could have convinced a raven to conceal us in an egg, or a fish to swallow us whole, or a fox to turn us into sea hares.
I’m sure it would have taken my stepmother at least a day to find us.
Hiding in an egg is extremely uncomfortable anyway. Don’t even ask about the smell of fish innards or the exceedingly dull daily routine of a sea hare.
I had, somehow, walked the entire distance to the throne and stood at the point where I should prostrate myself before her. My knees nearly flexed out of automatic habit, but I forced them still. This time, I would face her standing upright.
After a few moments of awkward silence, the queen remarked, “You’re very bold today.”
Be bold, be bold. But not too bold. How bold was just bold enough? “Why not? You’re going to punish me for my disobedience anyway.”
Her head inclined a bare fraction. “You have returned to me unmarried, in defiance of my direct instructions.”
“I have.”
“Your sisters tell me I should be merciful. That you are blameless. That King Gervase is blameless. That my plans have been stymied, yet somehow no one is to be held accountable. Is that what you say?”
“No.”
There was a downturn at the edges of her lips, hardly a movement at all. “Then what do you say? Are you the one at fault? Should you be punished?”
Be bold. “Try it,” I said. “We’ll see who ends up a loaf of sourdough.”
She blinked. “What?”
“I mean, um…” I coughed. “It was my decision not to marry Gervase. I don’t accept your right to judge me for it, though. So if you want to test your powers against my own, go right ahead.”
I tensed, readying myself.
My stepmother’s eyes narrowed. “Are you certain about this?”
“No,” I admitted. “But I’ve traveled far and survived a great deal, and the last time a powerful sorceress went against me, she died, and her works crumbled into dust.” I took a deep breath and curled my fingers into fists. “Take your chances if you dare.”
She nodded gravely and leaned back against her throne. “Well. It’s about time.”
I frowned. “About time for what?”
She relaxed, looking for all the world like she was sprawled across an armchair. “For you to start living up to your potential.”
“For…No.” I shook my head. “Don’t even try it. You can’t possibly be claiming everything you did was for my own good.”
“Of course it was. If you’ve traveled far, who sent you there?
If you’ve survived a great deal, who put you in harm’s way?
Who pushed you toward that powerful sorceress you defeated?
When you refused to grow in your magic, who locked you in a tower until you had no choice?
Why would I have done any of that, if not for your benefit? ”
“Because you’re spiteful and cruel!” I shouted. My hair rose on an invisible wind, lengthening and reaching for her, sparks crackling from it. “And manipulative, and…and I do not believe you imprisoned me because you were trying to be a responsible mother!”
The throne room shook. Crevasses broke open in the floor, radiating out from where I stood. The sharp scent of sulfur puffed up from below. Someone started pounding on the stone doors.
The queen smiled thinly. “You’re calling me your mother now? I suppose that’s better than the soup bowl to the face I got the last time I saw you.”
I stared at her. The rumbling and shaking stopped.