Each time, Demelza told him she wasn’t hungry. Each time, she ate whatever he offered, and more often than naught, she enjoyed herself. Demelza noticed she sometimes ate slowly just to put off the hour at which Arris would leave. But this didn’t alarm her. It was for the sake of her own research, for how could she ask questions about a person she did not know? But when their conversations concerning the contestants were finished, they spoke of books they had read and books they had not. They talked of music, and while Demelza found his taste astonishing, bordering on the abysmal, she liked how animated he was when he spoke.
So it was that the days bled into a week or two, and now, with two days to go until the second trial, Demelza fell into a pattern that left her comfortable. That night, she slept easily, for she knew what the morning held and she felt inexplicably safe.
In this, she was wrong.
22A Scarcity of Carnal Mischief
The next morning, Demelza made her way to breakfast.
Unlike the first trial, there was no way to prepare. A test of discernment? Of noticing? Noticing what? For the past few days, breakfast had been a time of speculation. Some of the girls had taken to memorizing details of Arris’s face, reciting them in an odd chant. Others studied maps of the ever-shifting and sprawling grounds of Rathe Castle, convinced that a test of discernment was one where a future queen would need to know her future home. All this is to say that Demelza was not particularly concerned by the hushed whispers that met her in the breakfast hall. It was only when she plopped into the seat across from Ursula and Talvi that she realized something was wrong.
For one, Ursula had a full plate and was not eating. Talvi sipped her tea, and a book—usually opened—lay closed before her. Both of them watched her oddly.
“Yes, I know, my hair is still muddied,” said Demelza,yawning. Eyes half-closed, she fumbled for a cup from the tea service on the middle of the table.
“It’s not that,” said Ursula.
At that moment, wind gusted through the dining room. Demelza and the others looked up to see a swirl of silver near the chandelier of glowing root tendrils. The silvery drift solidified into the fox attendant with a sudden pop!
“Ladies!” it announced. “Considering the second trial will begin the day after tomorrow, this remaining time shall be focused on cultivating the mindset needed for it. Today’s event is optional. Should you be interested in a demonstration of cloud sculpting by the palace artist, Lady Stratasia, you are welcome to join the royal family in the winter courtyard at your earliest convenience.”
At the mention of the royal family, the mood in the dining room turned frantic. Teacups clattered against porcelain plates, sharp words punctuated final grabs for scones and biscuits and the rustle of nightdresses and scrape of pushed-back chairs filled the room as almost all of the contestants made a mad dash for the stairs.
All except Talvi, Ursula and Demelza. Demelza thought they were still hungry, but then she noticed they were watching her. Demelza put down her scone.
“What is it?”
“You… you never seem to be in a rush to meet the prince,” said Talvi, her words careful.
“So?”
Talvi and Ursula exchanged a look.
“So, you are here for the competition, aren’t you?”
Too late, Demelza sensed danger.
“Why else would I be here?”
Ursula stuffed a biscuit in her mouth. “See? Told you. I think the rest of them are full of it.”
“The rest of who are full of what?” asked Demelza.
“Nothing,” said Talvi, too quick. “We believe you.”
There was a small, simpering laugh and Demelza turned to see Edmea descending the staircase. Her pink hair was piled atop her head and held together with pins shaped like stars. A dainty silver star winked at the corner of her lip. She appeared to be wearing a gown stolen from a daydream. It was bone pale with sheer, billowing sleeves and a high waistline that ended in a ballooned silhouette complete with a smoky, ethereal hemline.
Edmea paused to allow herself to be admired.
“Careful,” she said, before walking out the door.
But she wasn’t speaking to Demelza. She was talking to Talvi and Ursula. Demelza frowned and then she stared at her friends.
“What’s happened?” she asked.
Thanks to Yvlle, a rumor had spread that Demelza was the illegitimate daughter of a minor lord in the Vale of Sylke, cursed from a run-in with an angry toad after she had splashed around in his pond and frightened his tadpoles. She was allegedly still a bit curse addled and so her mannerisms had not been given much thought.
Until recently.
