As she spoke, her eyes went to Talvi first. Then Edmea. And last… to Demelza.
A sound, like the drag of a heavy velvet curtain upon a stage, caught Demelza’s attention. All this time, the dining hall’s entrance had appeared dark and shadowed, save forthe golden gleam of an empty archway. But now, two figures appeared where before there had been nothing:
Yvlle.
And Arris.
For the first time Demelza understood what her sisters meant when they wrote of targets who were “infuriatingly” handsome. She had always wondered why someone’s attractiveness would make them so angry. It’s not as though that person’s beauty had seized the last bit of dessert off your plate or tripped you down a staircase. But now she understood that it wasn’t the beauty that was infuriating, but its belligerent effects. In an instant, one could be disarmed by the hint of a smile. Every piece of armor knowingly and unknowingly constructed around the heart could be rendered flimsy and useless by a single glance. It was the equivalent of showing up to a sword fight with a spoon. There was nothing to be done for it. Nothing to protect oneself against it. All you could do was hope to survive this feeling with your heart mostly intact.
Demelza briefly catalogued Arris: his unbrushed and rumpled chestnut hair, his boyish cheeks still creased by last night’s pillow. She registered his floppy dressing gown of midnight blue and his wrinkled navy pajamas. He was wearing slippers—which was unusual for him—and even more odd was that one of the slippers appeared to have the swiveling ears of a rabbit. When he saw her looking at him, he gave a small wave, his lips—she hadkissedthose lips—pinched to an awkward, tight line.
Reason told her that he seemed extremely self-conscious in this moment. Rage informed her that he was dressed so artlessly because this trial meant very little to him, thus Demelza’s rather outstanding performance deserved nothing more than that miserable smile. She was suddenly overcome by a desire to hit something.
Queen Yzara cleared her throat, frowning as she looked at her son. “Evidently, my son is so enthused by the prospect of the companionship of marriage that he decided to dress informally in celebration of such future closeness? Yes?”
Arris shook his head. “If you must know—ow!”
His sister elbowed him.
“Yes,” said Arris woodenly. “That is the reason.”
“I had intended for a celebratory luncheon to follow, but perhaps a small respite would be appreciated by all,” said Queen Yzara, clearing her throat. “Contestants, if you please, make your way to the exit… those of you who will not be moving forward in the contest shall find yourself at the gates of Rathe Castle. Those who will be continuing to the third, and final, trial will arrive back at the residences.”
Edmea did not hesitate as she walked straight through the exit… though not everyone was quite as confident.
Flykra sobbed. “But I… I’m not ready!” She stretched a beseeching hand toward Arris, who was plucking at his pajamas in dismay.
“My prince, do not forget the token of my love!” Flykra shouted.
Arris looked up, frowning. He was very far away and hadn’t quite heard Flykra. Had she said something about the luncheon?
“I think it is a brunch affair!” he called back.
Flykra sobbed.
“I’m certain the kitchens can make adjustments if that’s not to your taste!” said Arris.
With a shudder—and a scowl—Flykra followed after Edmea. Talvi waved encouragingly to Demelza while Ursula clapped her hard on the back:
“See you on the other side,” she said, winking.
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” said Heka, sidling up beside Demelza. “I have it on good authority that I’ve actually been moved to an even higher suite to reflect my status as a top contender.”
“My congratulations,” said Demelza, though she doubted that very much.
“Allow me to keep you company on your journey out of here, my dear,” said Heka, fluffing up her hair before she linked arms with Demelza. “I would promise to remember you when I am queen, but the truth is that you and I are on completely different paths…”
The girls stepped into the cool hallway and wind rushed over Demelza. When she opened her eyes, the castle grounds looked so unfamiliar that for a terrible, heart-swooping moment she imagined she was outside the gates of Rathe Castle. Up ahead, the towering, wintry mushroom stalk had vanished, replaced with a squat toadstool the size of two houses. Its bright-red cap glistened with morningdew. Overhead, the once skeletal trees had turned green and lush. Spring drenched the air, and Demelza felt heady with the fragrance of the nearby honeysuckle and noon lilies. Dusk hyacinths, whose petals reflected the last evening’s sky, flanked the path leading to the contestants’ residence. The sky above was blue and cloudless and only the dozen or so puddles left on the path remained as evidence of the earlier rain.
Demelza looked to her left and then to her right. She was alone. Heka was gone.
“Different paths indeed,” she muttered, and allowed herself a moment’s smugness.
Not wishing to dampen her skirts from the puddles, Demelza had hoisted up her dress when a familiar voice called out—
“Wrate above, I am so sorry to intrude, I swear my eyes are averted!”
Demelza let go of her dress. She frowned, turning in a circle. “Arris?”
