As Arris walked back to Rathe Castle, the world changed. Spring colors saturated the once pale and sparkling winter landscape. A blush snuck into the icy cherry trees. The pale blue of the pond deepened to azure. Snow-covered bushes of trembling hollies and purple itchweed ripened with honey-hued blooms and iridescent berries. A patch of slow thyme, so named for its soporific effects, which were rumored to enhance an hour of lovemaking, put forth a redolent fragrance that Arris, if he was feeling fanciful, might have described as the smell of music at midnight.
But Arris was not feeling fanciful.
And truth be told, he didn’t even notice the theatrics of springtime. His mind was elsewhere. At least, it was until he entered the castle, walked into the dining room and saw his parents. Eustis was hunched over. His hair was lank and stuck to his scalp. His skin was gray and covered in a pale sheen of sweat. Arris stopped short.
His father was dying.
24King Eustis at Death’s Door
“Oh hello, darling!” said Queen Yzara, smiling.
A thick sheen of silver coated her lips.
“Your mother is besting me at poison chess,” groaned Eustis. “Again, I might add. I am at death’s door.”
“And there you shall remain until you yield your knight,” said Yzara. “Honestly, I am a bit insulted you are not eager to lose.”
“Mercy is the ambrosia of the sinner in the gallows,” said Eustis, reaching out a trembling hand toward Yzara’s face. “And since I shall know such succor from thy lips, I wish to relish their sweetness.”
Yzara smiled. She reached for her husband’s hand, cradling his blue fingertips with such gentleness that Arris felt he had intruded upon something. Eustis smiled at her.
“I have never seen anyone die so beautifully,” said Yzara.
Eustis kissed her hand.
Somewhere to the left of Arris came a loud retching sound, and he turned to see Yvlle standing and glowering at everyone.
“Have I also been poisoned?” asked Yvlle. “Because I’m feeling nauseous watching this exchange.”
“Witnessing love is certainly unsettling to the body, my viper,” said their mother before turning to Arris. “The competition will thin considerably after tomorrow, my dear, and that is for the best. Simply because a marriage requires one to be charitable does not mean that it is a charity. There shall be no more exceptions out of pity.”
She was talking about Demelza.
“I stand by that choice,” he said.
“And I admire your tenacity, darling, I’m just reminding you that’s all,” said Yzara, grinning to herself as Eustis’s chess piece wobbled forward. “You’re slipping, husband.”
“No, I am certain the cherry pie has feathers in it,” muttered Eustis.
Yzara sighed. “I knew I made that tincture too strong. Yvlle, will you be a darling and put that towel on your father’s head. I poisoned him too much it seems.”
“It’s not that the feathers don’t taste good, but I suspect the ostriches have good reason for keeping them! Maybe they didn’t want to be in a cherry pie! What if they preferred apricot!”
Yvlle looked unbothered as she threw a towel over their hysterically giggling father. Eustis slumped forward. Immediately, he began to snore.
“We shall call that a surrender,” said Yzara, patting her husband’s head. “When you are conscious once more, I am confident you shall agree.”
The queen turned her attention back to her son.
“I am serious, Arris,” she said. “No more pitying picks after this round. Deciding upon a bride is a serious endeavor and choosing to allow some innocent and mud-bedraggled creature the chance to become a queen reflects poorly on the family.”
“Her name is Demelza, Mother,” said Arris.
“I am quite aware,” said Yzara. She took a sip of tea, and left a silver imprint upon the rim. “I am also aware that she has the manners of a boar and apparently refuses to eat with the other girls! What kind of behavior is that in a future queen? I would not be sorry to see the back of her—”
Arris cleared his throat. “But—”
“No, my love, my word is final. If she does not do well in this round, you shall not be rescuing her. Understood?”
