The queen finally turned to face her. She smiled pleasantly as she released her hold on the clattersnake. It hissed once before vanishing into the gaping sleeves of Yzara’s blue satin morning gown.
“I call you that so that I do not hate you.”
“H-hate—” Demelza stammered. She ran through every interaction she had ever had with the queen and frowned. “What have I done to make you hate me?”
“It’s not what you’ve done,” said Yzara. “It’s what you could do. You could kill Arris—”
“I wouldn’t—”
“No, no,” said Yzara. “You could. Let us not pretend otherwise. Love for a veritas swan is deadly, is it not? When their beloved dies, so do they.”
“Yes,” said Demelza. “So why would I kill him?”
Yzara held her stare. “Because you love him. Because he might hurt you one day. Because he might fall out oflove and you, in your despair, might consider that the only weapon you have left is your own life.”
Disgust reared through her body. Demelza balled her hands into fists. “What a terrible thing to say! I am not like that. And you seem to have a very poor opinion of your own son.”
“You mistake me, child,” said the queen. “It is not my son I have a poor opinion of, but the condition of the human heart in general. There is so much unknown in the act of loving and being loved.”
The queen’s hand absentmindedly drifted to her belly.
“When my children were born, I felt fear first… love followed later. Or perhaps they are the same thing,” said the queen. “With Yvlle, I knew that if I sharpened her teeth, the world could not harm her. But with Arris… it was different. From the moment he opened his eyes, I knew he lived on borrowed time. I also knew that no amount of love I had for him could protect him, for he belongs more to the Isle than he does to himself. As you well know.”
“Yes,” said Demelza, feeling chastened for some reason. “I know.”
The queen reached for a spoon and stirred the porridge into which she had milked the clattersnake. Then she reached for a porcelain bowl full of black sugar and sprinkled it generously on the surface. Satisfied, she placed the porridge on a nearby tray, where it sat beside an identical bowl that was ostensibly not poisoned.
“Is that… is that for the king?” asked Demelza.
She was unsure what else to say to the queen and shecouldn’t tell if the other woman resuming her task in the kitchen meant that Demelza had been dismissed.
“I try to kill the king at least once a month,” said Yzara, her voice bright. She laughed when she saw Demelza’s expression. “To you it might sound barbaric, but this is how we honor choice in our marriage. Every time I try to kill him we are acknowledging a beautiful fragility balancing atop the most powerful foundation in a marriage. Do you know what that might be, Demelza?”
Demelza hated being put on the spot for a surprise test. She hated looking like a fool even more. She reached for a clever response, but her mind pulled blanks.
“Um… love?” she tried.
“No,” said Yzara. And this time her gaze was so chilling it could’ve conjured frost up Demelza’s spine. “Choice.”
“Oh.”
“I choose my husband. I choose my marriage. We choose one another despite knowing what damage we might inflict,” said Yzara. “That is why I poison him every month. To remind him. And myself.”
“I don’t—”
“You have not chosen my son,” said the queen. “Do not mistake my loathing as a sign that I shall rise against you. I know you have earned your right as queen. As queen, I honor you in advance. You will no doubt prove to be an excellent ruler of the Isle. In that, I am secure in the fate of the kingdom. But you tell me that you won’t harm my son because it could harm you. That is the worst kind of choice. Yes, you might love him, but how long can love last withouttrue choice? Without trust? As you have reminded me, Demelza, you have no option but to keep him alive for your own sake. And though I can see my son is quite taken with you, I fear that this marriage will be a slow poison. I fear that he will be heartbroken. I fear that he will be hurt. And from that fear stems my hatred of you, child.”
Demelza felt a lump in her throat. With each word, Demelza saw a different future sprawled out before her. Every time she saw Arris, his eyes brightened. Now, she imagined that spark dimming. She saw herself restless and pacing. A bird with clipped wings who knew that flight would kill her, but yearned to feel the sky all the same. Demelza hardly noticed as the queen picked up the tray and made to leave the kitchens.
“Know that I pity you too… love without choice is little better than a leash, and I would not wish such a love on my worst enemy,” she said.
35The Wizard’s Knife
Demelza did not sleep that night.
After Yzara left, Demelza wanted to run after her, flip the tray of porridge and demand that the queen take back her words… or at the very least tell her there was more than one way this could end. She thought of writing a note to Arris and asking him to meet with her before they walked down the aisle, but Yvlle had taken him out for a stag night. When he had told her this the other day, she’d felt a flicker of jealousy.
“You just spent countless weeks in the company of beauties and now you need a reminder of your fading youth?” she’d asked.
