“I think I’m always writing… though whether it’s any good, I have no idea,” said Talvi, laughing.
“What do you like to write?”
Talvi made a face. “Romances, mostly. Do you read romance?”
“No,” said Demelza, before quickly adding: “But notbecause I don’t wish to! I don’t think there were any romance books in the library.”
Actually there had been quite a few, but Araminta had thrown them out. She didn’t want her daughters getting any ideas about love, which was a shockingly different approach from Prava’s. When he found out Araminta had forbidden romantic tomes, he had sat them all down for a family meeting.
“Romance and love and the intimacy between willing bodies is a beautiful thing! Nothing to be ashamed of, my dears. Read what you like and ask whatever you wish!”
However, Prava’s approach of “You can talk to me about anything!” was just as bad as their mother’s tight-lipped silence. If not worse. Out of solidarity with his daughters, Prava insisted on taking a monthly draught that gave him stomach pain, fatigue and moodiness to better understand their female anatomical plights and avoid raising children who would later “wrestle with demons of shame.”
“I think I’d prefer the demons of shame,” muttered Demelza.
“What?” asked Talvi.
“Nothing,” said Demelza. “If you don’t mind my asking, why did you decide to come here?”
Talvi’s smile turned dreamy. “Inspiration? I think? I don’t know, really… I saw the invitation and all of a sudden, it was all I could dream about. I’ve never been anywhere and while I love my mothers, they have very different notions of what I should do with my life.”
“I understand that completely,” said Demelza.
“Everyone in the Mountains is a scholar. They study, translate, observe. They speak to the clouds, the rain, the snow. But I don’t think they dream… or if they do, they consider it merely a hobby, not as a way to live… whereas I can’t imagine any other way of living,” said Talvi quietly. “I don’t expect to make it through all three rounds, let alone this one, but if I must go back to my mothers’ home and find some area of study, then I wish to fill up my well for dreams. Do you know what I mean?”
“I…” Demelza started to speak and then trailed off.
No, she thought. She had no understanding of making space for dreams. With every step, her life painfully crystallized. The other contestants had made space to cultivate talents, but Demelza had never made space for such a thing. She and her sisters had been raised to fulfill Prava’s ambitions. What would follow, they had been promised, was a paradise of power. No one had asked her if that’s what she wanted.
Did Demelza even like what she had studied? Or was she simply good at it and in pursuit of praise? Prava had called her gifted in the study of history and languages, but Demelza wasn’t sure if she had ever approached her studies with the same dreamy joy that Talvi felt when she spoke of writing romances.
Talvi touched her arm. “Are you all right, Demelza?”
“What even is a Demelza? If one is simply raised as an instrument in service of another person, then are they even a person?”
“Uh… I’m not certain I follow…”
“Shh!” said someone ahead of them in the line. “The attendant told us to be quiet!”
The girls were soon ushered into an antechamber with dozens of star-shaped windows cut into the rock walls. Through the windows, Demelza glimpsed a large theater that was softly lit by the fire beetles clinging to the jagged stalactites of the cavern ceiling. The walls had been carved out to form tiered benches, which were entirely empty save for three individuals: Queen Yzara, Princess Yvlle and Prince Arris.
A thousand alarms went off in Demelza’s head. She had no talent! She couldn’t possibly subject them to her singing… maybe she should dance? What about that juggling trick Evadne had taught her last year?
One by one, the contestants were summoned to the theater. Demelza’s panic congealed.Focus, she told herself. She was here to observe and so she must. An idea was sure to come to her.
And if it does not?whispered a voice in her head.
Demelza tried to ignore it. She tried to focus on the sounds around her, but the roar of her racing heart kept stealing her attention.
Lady Edmea was the first to perform, still dressed in her plain gown. Her rose-pink hair gleamed in the light. At the sight of her, Arris sat up straighter. He was dressed in an ocher jacket with brass trim and copper buttons. Demelza had never seen the princess Yvlle until today. The princess wore a patch over one eye, but even with that addition, it was clear that they were twins. But while they had similarfeatures, Yvlle had an unsettling intensity about her. Demelza noticed that she seemed to stroke the shadows beside her as if they were a tamed beast. Between the siblings sat their mother, Queen Yzara. She was dressed similarly to her son in a bell-sleeved dress of hammered copper and a circlet of rubies at her brow.
The queen waved her hand. “Begin.”
“Your Royal Highnesses,” said Edmea, curtsying. “I am Lady Edmea of the Vale. As you might have heard from my own reputation, I love the latest fashions and I am not humble about the fact that more often than not, I am the one who sets them.”
Edmea shrugged.
“Many are under the impression that beauty is something one is born with, rather than a carefully curated presentation that requires immense talent and skill,” said Edmea. “Some might think I’m merely being coy when I ignore questions of who makes my gowns. Others assume that they are created by my mother, the Countess Erda. The truth is that I make them.”
