In the antechamber, a number of the contestants gasped. A few muttered “I knew it!” Some rolled their eyes. “I bet she’s lying,” Demelza heard a few people say.
“I have been trained, of course, by my mother, whose skills are renowned across the Isle. If I may be so bold, My Queen, I notice that you are wearing one of her autumn designs from ten years ago,” said Edmea. A number of girls sucked in their breath before Edmea added: “It looks resplendent on you.”
In the stands, Queen Yzara arched an eyebrow. Demelza guessed that the queen was more intrigued than offended.
“My talent today is to demonstrate that I am not merely a beauty in the bloom of youth. I may determine the season’s fashion, but my perspective and influence can transcend time,” said Edmea, raising her hands. “If you choose me, Your Highness, you will find that you have a queen for every season.”
At once, the pale gown began to change. Like all sylke tailors, Edmea had infused it with her very will and imagination and now it overtook the stage. Huge icicles burst forth from the shoulder straps. Frost clambered up Edmea’s neck, fashioning itself into a diamond collar and a matching tiara. Edmea snapped her fingers and veils of snow-flecked winter winds unfurled from her bodice, billowing out into a small storm. Edmea twirled and the armored ball gown melted within seconds, replaced by thousands of rosebuds, which burst to life, blooming to create a gown with a twelve-foot train of hypnotic petals.
Edmea reached for the seam and tore off the skirt in a wide flourish. The underside of the skirt flipped up as vermilion and scarlet colors raced up the petals, transforming them into autumn leaves while the bodice transformed into a thicket of brambles and holly. With each outfit change, Edmea grew taller and taller, as if some invisible podium hoisted her into the air. The effect was mesmerizing and it ended with a great crescendo of water as Edmea transformed the dress into a final interpretation of summer on the Isle of Malys. The skirt fell away, replaced by a formfitting gownof hammered gold and braided sunlight. The dress was so bright that it was almost painful to behold. But Edmea did not wince from the radiance. Instead she stood there with her arms raised, crowned victoriously in light.
Queen Yzara clapped loudly. Princess Yvlle gave an appreciative nod, while Prince Arris—who had not once taken his eyes off of Edmea—finally blinked and flashed a dazed smile. Edmea curtsied and exited, leaving a scorched mark on the stage.
“Thank Wrate I don’t have to follow her,” said Talvi. “Can you imagine?”
Demelza could not. She looked around the antechamber, but there was no escape. And even if she could escape, how could she proceed to the next trial and uphold her bargain with the prince? Demelza pressed her face to the star-shaped window, willing Prince Arris to make eye contact with her and confirm he had some plan to let her make it to the next round. But he was deep in conversation with his sister, who was pointing at the next contestants who had arrived on the stage: Thalassa and Pearl.
Does this mean you have to marry both of them?Princess Yvlle mouthed to her brother. Arris pinched the bridge of his nose, but Demelza could’ve sworn that his cheeks turned red.
Thalassa and Pearl walked onto the stage, each carrying a jug of water, which they poured onto the floor.
“You need a strong queen, Your Majesty,” said Thalassa.
“One who can light your way through any dark,” said Pearl.
“Which is why you should choose one of us, for we are the rarest pearls the Famishing has to offer,” they said in unison.
They each dipped a toe in the puddle between them. Their gowns—which floated about them in translucent tentacles—glowed for a single moment before Thalassa and Pearl disappeared. Their forms were rendered into small, bright lights. They bobbed and wove about the stage, shifting and contracting like stars herded into a symphony. In the Famishing, such a dancing technique was known as the La Noctuid. It was a dance of exquisite death and had originated as a tactic to lure shipwrecked sailors out of their shelters and back into the arms of the sea.
Heka of the Glimmers followed with an alchemical demonstration where she transformed two rusted, jagged pieces of bronze into a gleaming golden heart.
“The cracks might still be visible, but they do not detract from its beauty,” said Heka.
In the audience, Yvlle mimed retching. Arris did not seem to notice.
The contestants’ performances went on and on. Demelza recognized the rabbit-eared Zizorelle from the evening before, who proceeded to perform an improvised skit about a hare who could not stop hopping. At least Demelza thought that’s what it was about, for she had no idea. Neither did the royal family, it seemed, for no sooner had she finished than the ground opened up beneath her and Zizorelle vanished with a howl of: “YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND MY ART!”
Zizorelle was quickly joined by Miella—who impersonated a boulder and, well, that was it—and then Zanaza—who sang a song so piercingly awful that stalactites cracked off the ceiling—and then Eyolda—who proceeded to cry a literal river—and was nearly swept away by her own current.
Some contestants appeared to pass to the next round without comment, but others impressed. A siren named Dyane showed off her ability to transform into massive sea creatures and nearly tore off the ceiling when her armored ball gown erupted into crab legs. This was followed by Orinthia, an Aatosian girl, who sculpted an entire army out of snow. When she blew upon them, the soldiers sprang to life for a full minute. Even Yvlle clapped.
When Ursula stepped onto the stage, she revealed an elaborate tower of pastries that was nearly twelve feet high. At the snap of her fingers, an enchanted knife sailed through the air, shearing the sugary tower onto plates so that the royal family might sample her creations.
“I present to you my interpretation of the first day of autumn in the Ulva Wylds,” said Ursula.
Demelza noticed that Ursula was not lumbering and joking as she had been for the past day and a half. When Ursula spoke of her home, there was reverence in her voice. It made Arris sit up straighter.
“I give to you the candied sunshine that rests on the clover and the sweetness of the wind carrying the first breath of frost. I have baked the dreams of the dormice hoping for fat acorns and warm tree hollows. I have sweetened thiswith the sap of the fire maples and the rare spices brought back by my mother from her travels.”
Arris took a modest bite of the food before his eyes widened. Yvlle did away with the silverware after one bite and shoved everything in her mouth. Queen Yzara sighed after her first bite, and when she opened her eyes she stared most curiously at Ursula.
“You mention your mother but not your desire to be queen of this realm,” she said.
Ursula shrugged. “You asked for a talent and I don’t know that my skills in the kitchen would make me a good queen, but I do know that a belly full of good food and drink wards off stupid decisions, and if a ruler knows how to ensure that is always the case, then perhaps it’d make for a happier kingdom.”
Arris laughed.
“Well reasoned,” allowed Queen Yzara. “But who, pray tell, is your mother?”
