As had become his pattern, Arris carried a small satchel that was no doubt safekeeping his latest kitchen experiment. And, as usual, the smell of whatever he had made was nothing short of intoxicating. The only difference was that this time, Demelza had no appetite whatsoever.
All day, she had tried to recover from the awkward and heated exchange with Edmea… but it was useless. Flykra walked right past her. Heka pretended not to hear her question. Zoraya looked at her pitifully, but made herself scarce whenever Demelza approached her.
At lunch, Demelza stared at Talvi and Ursula. Neither of them had quite met her eye after the exchange in the winter courtyard.
“You believe me, don’t you?” asked Demelza. “You don’t think I’m a spy?”
“No,” said Ursula.
Talvi shook her head. This should have comforted Demelza, but she could sense they were holding something back.
“But?” she prompted.
Talvi and Ursula exchanged a look.
“Love, Demelza?” asked Talvi. She grimaced. “I mean… I have to admit, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you alone with the prince. Or even seen you seek him out.”
“Have you seen Ursula alone with the prince?” asked Demelza.
“Well, no,” admitted Talvi.
“See!” said Demelza, triumphant.
“But he also mentioned sampling cloud berries with her the other day,” said Talvi. “I heard him mention it to Begonia.”
“What did you do when you were alone with the prince?” asked Ursula. “Where were you?”
In my room, she thought.
“On the grounds,” said Demelza, vaguely. “And we didn’t do anything. We just talked. Mostly about books.”
Talvi nodded, so at least the conversation seemed a fitting one to have with the prince.
“Keep your secrets, my friend,” said Ursula. Even thoughDemelza still felt like the whole day had her cornered, a part of her thrilled at the mention of being someone’s friend. “But just know that we can’t defend what we don’t know.”
The rest of the day had passed in a blur. And it was only when Arris waved a hand in front of her that she came back to herself.
“Does it look revolting?”
Demelza looked at the table and saw a slice of sugar beetle pie. It wriggled in a congealed, iridescent mass and Demelza felt a pang of homesickness.
“You mentioned this was a favorite of yours at home,” said Arris. “I must admit, I have no desire to try it, but if you say it’s a delicacy—”
Demelza picked it up and bit down, smiling when the beetle legs tickled the inside of her cheek. Arris had added pond nettle, which gave the flavor a peculiar brightness. Her sister Corisande would love this.
Arris walked across the bedroom to fix a silencing charm to the doorknob. His brown hair was mussed and dusted with sugar. There were faint signs of sleeplessness under his eyes, but his gaze was bright as always. When he plopped into the chair across from her, he immediately launched into conversation.
“Do you think Begonia meant it when she said that her future husband not liking the color green was a matter of life and death?” he asked.
“I would imagine so, considering I confirmed it for you,” said Demelza.
”But what kind of death?” pressed Arris. “The death ofthe flush of new love? The death of the dream of finding a partner who shares your every preference?”
“Your death, Arris,” said Demelza.
“Pity. I fancied myself a bit in love,” he said.
“You’ve said that about every contestant!”
