“Do I need to apologize for looking out for my brother’s welfare?” asked Yvlle. “What is that, anyway?”
“It’s a rare tome from my mothers’ library. They have a whole collection on the poems and dialects of clouds, the majority belonging to cumulonimbus, for they are the loudest,” said Talvi.
“Fascinating!” said Arris. “I’ve read quite a bit of cloud poetry and I’m always delighted by the cleverness of the noctilucent and the bawdiness of the cirrus.”
Talvi’s eyes widened. “You are well-read, Your Majesty.”
“I try,” said Arris.
“This is a poem by a nimbostratus,” said Talvi. “As you know, it is considered the rarest of cloud speech, for they are often the shyest. It was recorded hundreds of years ago and was considered a rarity for its focus on the sea witch consort of Enzo. I thought you might find it interesting.”
“I’m honored you would think of me,” said Arris, taking the book lightly in his hands. “Although I am mostsympathetic to the plight of the sea witch, the one who is most obsessed with that question is actually my sister. I sometimes wonder if half of her tinkering in her shadowy studies is to bring the sea witch back to life.”
Yvlle was staring hungrily at the book. Arris had no doubt his twin would take it from him the moment Talvi’s back was turned. Perhaps it was petty, but he relished rifling through the icy pages—and inhaling the minty sap of the spruce ink—before Yvlle could get her hands on it.
“Is that so?” asked Talvi.
“I have a number of scholarly interests,” said Yvlle, curt.
“Odd,” said Talvi. “Scholarship is a delicate art and requires a patient temperament.”
Yvlle tilted her head. Yvlle was tall, nearly as tall as Arris, and she towered over the diminutive snow maiden. “Are you suggesting I lack such a temperament?”
“Well, you certainly exhibited a lack of patience in your hostile search of my person,” said Talvi.
“I would hardly call that a search,” said Yvlle.
Talvi faced her fully. “What scholarly assessment led you to believe I was hiding a weapon?”
“You know, I think this is the most excellent-smelling book I have ever come across,” said Arris. “Anyone else want a sniff?”
“It was your dress,” said Yvlle.
Arris shrugged. “I will take that as a no.”
“My dress?” said Talvi.
Yvlle gestured at the skirts of Talvi’s gown. Around the bodice, the white fabric sheered away so that it resembledsnow falling outside one’s window. As with true snowfall, there were patches of translucence, and when Talvi had walked off the stage, Arris had glimpsed a bit of her ivory legs.
Apparently he was not the only one.
“It caught my attention,” said Yvlle, before adding: “It could be hiding anything.”
Talvi laughed. “All my dress is hiding, Princess, are my legs. I invite you to study them more closely in my retreat, as I imagine I now hear the second chime of the dinner gong. I take my leave of you both,” she said, curtsying to Arris before lifting her chin at Yvlle. “If you wish to search the dress, I am sorry to tell you that when it is not on my person, it is merely a pile of snow. I hope you’re not too disappointed.”
And with that, she sauntered off. Perhaps it was Arris’s imagination, but the gown seemed a little more formfitting than it had been earlier. As if proving that there was nothing else she could be hiding.
It was certainly an alluring dress.
Arris glanced between Talvi’s retreating form and the stormy look on Yvlle’s face. Then he looked down at the book.
“It really does smell wonderful,” he said.
“Do not pick that one,” Yvlle muttered. “I can’t imagine having to stare at that smug face every day across the breakfast table.”
“Well, that’s a shame. I think she’s lovely.”
“She looks like a doll,” said Yvlle. “I’ve always hated dolls.”
