“Savored,” finished Arris. He blinked. “When was the last time you ate? I’d love to say that response is a compliment to my abilities in the kitchen, but somehow I doubt that.”
Demelza swiped at her mouth, embarrassed. When her sister Evadne flew the nest and entered the service of a king, Demelza had been terrified for her. The king had her necklace, after all. If he wanted, he could turn her into a swan at a moment’s notice. But Evadne was unfazed.
The trick is never to reveal what you lack. I tell the king I yearn to be a swan, and so he does not give it to me. Men delight in that, Demelza. They delight in the joy of withholding and it is for us to delight in their foolishness.
“I could get you some more if you’d like,” Arris said.
“I do not want any more,” said Demelza, even as her stomach growled in dissent.
“It wouldn’t be any trouble,” said Arris. “Well, perhaps a little trouble. The flour came from cave wheat near the eastern borders of the Glimmers. Most people don’t realize this but without direct sunlight, the wheat—”
“Must be sung to in the language of flames in order to grow,” finished Demelza. She mimicked the molten speech of fire. Speaking the elements did not, as one imagined, extend to control over them. It merely allowed for polite suggestions, which some elements acquiesced to with more generosity—like water—whereas others took offense or were often too flighty to listen properly, such as fire or air.
“That’s exactly right,” said Arris. He looked stunned. “How did you know that?”
Demelza scolded herself. She really couldn’t help it when it came to revealing bits of knowledge. The wyvern was never impressed with her scholarship, and while her sisters and mother had feigned interest, they were not curious. Not like her father, who would engage Demelza in conversation for hours over the translation of a single word.
“I read a lot,” said Demelza, dusting the crumbs off her dress. “It is time we talk the specifics of our bargain.”
“Oh. Yes. Very well,” said Arris. “What do you suggest?”
“A weekly report?” said Demelza. That was the sort of thing her sisters did, so it seemed fitting.
Arris nodded. “I imagine the pool will thin dramatically with tomorrow’s first trial. I want to know why people are here, and if their reasons have changed. Someone might want to cut out my heart one day and then change their mind the next. Or at least one hopes.The only complication is that you’re also in the competition, so does that mean—”
“No,” said Demelza, sharp. “I only came here because this is the one place my father cannot spy into.”
“You’ve come here because your father doesn’t give you any… privacy?”
“I’m here because he wants to cut out my heart for a spell of eternal life,” said Demelza. “I am not here for your heart, nor do I have any intention of giving away mine. Ever.”
Arris fell quiet, and Demelza imagined she could see him turning over the little pieces of information she had given him.
“Well, you’re a veritas swan, so I don’t blame you,” said Arris. “Getting turned into a bird by your beloved whenever they want? Terrible.”
Now it was Demelza who stared. “How did you know that?”
“I read a lot,” said Arris, grinning. He stood up, offering his hand to her. Demelza refused it, but if Arris was offended, he didn’t show it. Instead, his smile widened.
“It seems we have a bargain, Demelza.”
Not what she expected. Not in the least. That was the thought running through her mind as she made her way back to the sleeping quarters. When she entered her room, a little box sat on her bed. Inside was a loaf of that orange bread with a small note:Just in case.
14The Trial of Talent
The next morning Demelza awoke to Ursula throwing open her door and shouting:
“Found her, Talvi! She slept through breakfast!”
Demelza’s eyes shot open. For one glorious moment, she imagined that she was back in her nest and snuggled into a pile amongst her sisters. And then the day’s events flew back to her.
“Are you quite all right?” asked Ursula from the doorway. “If you slept through breakfast I bet I could find you—goodness, where did you get that?”
Ursula walked into the room and picked up the prince’s orange pastry sitting on the little table beside the fire. Ursula was wearing a dark-blue gown sewn with flowering brambles and wild berries. With her golden hair arranged in a pile atop her head, the effect was striking.
“I… I saved it from the welcome tent yesterday,” said Demelza. “I must’ve grabbed the last one.”
Ursula closed her eyes, inhaled deeply and then sighed.“Is that milled cave wheat? Goodness, it smells delicious. I wonder if I might—”
