“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 shewould 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.
“I’m certain that’s the organ motivating you at this moment,” said Yvlle, rolling her eyes.
