“For the luncheon?” piped up Ursula, hopefully. “Do you think once we’ve all changed then it shall start?”
“Maybe,” said Demelza.
A few hours later, Demelza could not believe her luck. She was on her way back from the bathing chambers—a place of stained glass windows filled with spearmint-scented steam and warm pools—when she found Cordelia slinking out of a room that was not hers. Demelza knew this because the doors for each of the contestants’ chambers were emblazoned with their names and Cordelia’s door was at the far end of the hall.
Of all the contestants, Cordelia proved the hardest to get alone. She was always on the fringe of a group, not quitepart of the gathering, but never truly on her own. Sometimes Demelza suspected that Cordelia watched the other girls as closely as she did.
Demelza glanced behind her to where the scented steam spilled into the hallway. When she had left, Talvi and Ursula were still luxuriating in the pool, while Zoraya was combing oils through her hair. She had not seen Edmea, and yet it was Edmea’s room from which Cordelia crept. She watched from the shadow of the archway as Cordelia carefully removed a pair of inky black gloves… and then Demelza opened her mouth and sang.
The tune was like a drunk raven cawing and Cordelia winced to hear it. Demelza knew she did not have much time.
“Who are you trying to harm?” asked Demelza, crossing the floor.
Cordelia went rigid. A muscle in her jaw flicked. She tried to keep her mouth shut but the magic coaxed out the truth…
Demelza burst into Edmea’s room. Even in her state of panic, she could not help but register the wild differences between her room and Edmea’s. Their rooms appeared to have started off in the exact same way, but Edmea’s bore no resemblance to its original appearance. There were colorful silks hanging from the ceiling, lights strung up around the windows.How in the world did she manage to get ahold of a bower of roses?thought Demelza. The moment she saw Demelza, Edmea shrieked and clutched a shimmering dress of scales to her chest—
“PUT IT DOWN!” Demelza yelled.
Edmea kept screaming. At her touch, a tinge of scarlet crept down the dress of silver scales. There was no time. Demelza ran toward her, snatching the dress out of Edmea’s hands and throwing it in the fire.
“What is wrong with you?” Edmea said. “Do you have any idea how expensive that was?”
For a few seconds, the flames had no effect on the silver dress. They merely clambered over the scales. Edmea grabbed a nearby poker to remove the dress from the fire when all at once, the dress fell apart, melting into a pool of foul-smelling silver ink. And blood.
Edmea stared at the puddle, some of which had seeped past the edges of the fireplace. “That looks an awful lot like the ink of a spotted eel…”
“It is,” said Demelza, breathing hard. She yanked the poker out of Edmea’s hands and pushed the dress even farther into the flames. The scales—still impregnated with the malice and venom of the poisonous creature—emitted a low-pitched whine of displeasure.
“But that would mean—”
“That someone tried to kill you, yes,” said Demelza. “Did you prick your finger on anything recently?”
“No? Well, actually…” Edmea blinked. “Cordelia handed me a note and I might have gotten a small paper cut. I remember being very angry about it, but Cordelia apologized and I… I thought nothing of it.”
“Cordelia must have kept hold of the bloodied paper and managed to mix it with eel ink,” said Demelza.
The knowledge chilled her. Eel ink was one of the most venomous substances on the Isle. That Cordelia had possessed it and used it only now suggested that Edmea might not have been her intended target.
There hadn’t been time for Demelza to ask whether Cordelia had intended the poison for Arris, but just the thought made her chest tighten. She imagined his open grin going slack and pictured death’s gray filming over his brown eyes. All the poison needed was a drop of the target’s blood.
“How would Cordelia know where you kept your supply of sylke to make your gowns?” asked Demelza. “And didn’t you keep it under lock? How could she have broken into it?”
The first day the contestants had arrived, the attendants had warned them to keep their possessions safely stowed. After all, contestants would not be penalized for attempting to murder one another. They would only be punished if they were caught. And while there had initially been concerns about the whole contest dissolving into a bloodbath, it had appeared that to the majority of the contestants, murder seemed messy and, frankly, unsatisfying.
Edmea looked at the ground, embarrassed. “We shared a suite and she was so… well, adoring and all, so I—I’m actually a very nice person, you know—I might have shown her where I keep things to, well, show her what I have and what she… doesn’t?”
“You’re the portrait of kindness,” said Demelza.
Edmea plucked at her shift. There were odd bits of paper rolled up in her pink hair. A greasy, thick paste was under her eyes. It was incredibly unfair that even now Edmealooked knowledgeable and poised, while Demelza looked like a scruffy child waiting for a pat on the head.
“Right,” said Demelza. “I’ll leave you, then—”
“What? Just like that?” asked Edmea.
“I’ve already saved your life—you’re welcome, by the way—and I can’t imagine what else you’d want from me,” said Demelza. “Surely my very presence must be hard to stomach.”
Something flashed across Edmea’s features. If Demelza hadn’t known any better, she might have said it was shame. When Edmea said nothing, Demelza turned toward the door, only for the other girl to grab her wrist.
