“My mother disdained female gatherings; she said they were common,” Edmea had declared this morning. “She often said that no man would be able to discern one diamond from a whole plate of them and thus it was best to stand alone.”
When Demelza said nothing, Edmea added—with a touch of eagerness—“What time shall we be gathering? And don’t look at me like that, Demelza. If I win on beauty alone it’s insulting to my dignity. I’m leveling the playing field so no one can say that of course the prince had no choice but to choose me.”
“Demelza?” prompted Yvlle’s reflection.
Demelza borrowed from Edmea’s arsenal of dismissals.
“I have much work to do, I’m afraid,” she said.
“Demelza, he… he needs you,” Yvlle bit out.
The words sent a dangerous spark through her heart. For a moment, she let herself imagine what it would feel like to be needed. To be as vital to someone as the air they breathe.
Yvlle added, in a rush: “For your intel, of course. Without you, we would have no clue as to someone’s true intentions and, uh, as you know, Arris… well, without that information his life would be cut short.”
“Of course,” said Demelza, her voice wooden. Demelza knew that she alone had gilded her dreams with the hope for something out of reach, a hope she dared not speak aloud. She had only herself to blame for feelings hurt.
“I know exactly what Prince Arris needs me for.”
Nearly a week passed before Queen Yzara summoned them to a new gathering. In all that time, the contestants had been left to their own devices. Some of them, like Ursula, had been delighted by the break from teas and concerts.Others, like Cordelia and Edmea, were convinced it was a sign of a more sinister plot.
“They’re trying to drive us mad,” said Cordelia over breakfast on the day of the summons.
“Or see which one of us loses composure and is caught out looking mediocre for once,” said Edmea, examining her reflection in a teapot.
“Or perhaps it is the prince’s choice?” said Zoraya dreamily. “Absence makes the heart grow ferocious.”
“Absence makes the heart grow fonder,” said Talvi.
Zoraya blinked. “No, that can’t be right.”
“What is today’s gathering, anyway?” asked Ursula. “Luncheon?”
Cordelia, who had accepted the invitation on behalf of the contestants, waved it dramatically and announced:
“It is an invitation to create… a fragrance.”
Down a narrow pathway lined with spiraled shells and deep in one of the many arching sea caves, the Famishing Sea whispered of its infinite hungers. It was here, in a large chamber that resembled a massive, hollow pearl, that the contestants gathered. In the center of the room was a shiny black mirror of a table. Upon it were a few dozen glass bottles—some filled with colorful liquids, others empty—and a number of small terrariums whose frosted glass lids kept their contents a mystery.
Every now and then, Demelza caught sight of her reflection on the nacreous walls. She had expected her reflectionto warp into something opalescent and glossy, but she had not expected the noise of the pearly room. Though the floor was stone, the sea still wriggled through deep channels cut into the rock, and perhaps the sound of it flowing back into open waters was what made Demelza start imagining things. She had imagined the chamber would be silent, but it was like standing in a storm of whispers.Who are you, who are you, I see you, I see you, you cannot hide from me… I promise to keep all the secrets you give me between us and the ever-dark sea…
Beside her, Zoraya shook her head, as if ridding herself of a buzzing insect. Cordelia, who called the Famishing her home, looked even less comfortable and kept shuddering despite the room’s humid warmth. Talvi appeared entranced with her own reflection, while Edmea looked faintly ill. Even Ursula, the most stalwart of all the contestants, shuffled awkwardly, uncertain of where to look.
“I am grateful to each of you for joining me,” said Queen Yzara, stepping out of the pearlescent walls to take her place at the head of the table.
“It is our p-pleasure,” said Edmea, with much effort.
“No it is not, but I admire your efforts,” said the queen kindly. “You are standing in the workshop of the late Queen Vania. It is a strange place… a place of utter honesty, which is inherently uncomfortable. Do you know of her?”
“Was she not called Vania the Vain?” asked Talvi.
“She had many names… many faces, even,” said Queen Yzara, smiling. “She was the wife of King Alpheus theAbrupt, who was so concerned that he would be killed on his wedding day that he did not look where he was going and walked off a cliff. I believe he is now a palm tree in the Grove of Ancestors. Anyway. Vania was a very shy girl who had no interest in ruling, but on the day of her wedding she found herself thrust into a position of extraordinary power. A position that people were only too happy to take advantage of in the hopes that she might fail. When they looked at her, they saw only a small girl from the Ulva Wylds with hair the color of a mouse’s pelt and large teeth. Alpheus had made it clear from the beginning that he had chosen her not for beauty but for meekness. Of all his choices, she seemed too meek and mild-mannered to murder him. Perhaps in the beginning she was… and then she was not.”
As she spoke, Yzara trailed her hands along the assorted glasses and bottles. One by one, the jars opened. Within, Demelza saw the polished skull of an ice swallow, a pile of gilded teeth, lustreel rings and glass feathers. There were dried frostwort and a garland of swamp hyacinths, pulsing heart lilies and nemesis nasturtium that had apparently been only recently picked, for it was still spitting burning nectar upon the table. Some of the herbs and flowers were so rare that Demelza could not guess their use, let alone their names.
“With these ingredients, Queen Vania changed the atmosphere of any room she entered. With a dab of perfume at her wrist she could start wars or end them. She could conjure the fragrance of first love and the stench of simmered resentments. She was not truthful, but she was alwayshonest with herself,” said the queen. “It was her unflinching honesty that let her be what others wanted—or needed—her to be, for she never wavered on who she was. That was her magic and that is the question I pose to you now… One of you is the future queen, but who are you? Can you behold the honest truth of yourself and distill it?”
Queen Yzara let the question hang in the air for a few moments.
