Ceto keeps pace, a step behind. After some time she says, ‘You don’t have friends.’
I am raw and ready, primed for attack. ‘Neither do you.’
‘I have sisters.’
‘So? That is not the same as friends. They did not choose you.’ I do not know what she is getting at.
‘Those girls at breakfast. Most of them are younger than you. It would be of benefit to them to be favoured by you.’
‘I do not see how.’
‘You are their princess.’
‘So?’
She just looks at me. She does not understand and I am loath to clarify. ‘The favour of a princess does not mean very much. Their fathers are already favoured by the king.’
‘You might have been their queen.’
‘Yes, but I will not be. They know it.’
‘Before the bargain, before last summer, did they seek your favour then?’
Ceto reads my answer in the twist of my lip. She smilesbut it is not playful, she is not toying with me. I sense the flat dullness of her earlier mood sharpening; she will turn outwards and tear me apart.
‘How interesting. Women flock and fawn around your mother. I wonder what’s wrong with you.’
I grit my teeth, turn and walk on.
She persists. ‘Perhaps you have more of her hubris than your downward looks would have everyone believe. You think yourself far loftier. You do not even bother to learn their names.’
I say nothing still. I cannot bear her to know the truth of how I tried, desperately, in my girlhood, to get the others to like me. I wanted to be like them, but I, of course, am not. I was too eager, too willing, and it made them uncomfortable. It was unseemly; I am a princess, I should have ordered them around, let them seek and follow, but I did not. Any jealous coveting could have turned to awe, but I did not cut such an impressive figure up close. I was too strange, running back from the river tangled in reeds. They would find ways to give me the slip, would leave for picnics and walks without me. I remember standing in the entrance hall, scanning the avenue, a basket full of the kitchen’s best, keen to share. I remember the steady glow of hope and excitement growing cold and leaden in my stomach as I realized the trick.
But Ceto is unrelenting. ‘Small, so small,little queen. Behind your walls and friendlessness, walking the same paths through the same gardens. There is so much at your fingertips, but you squander it all. Such a waste.’
My hands clench and unclench at my sides. ‘Girls come and go quickly here. They are married off or sent away. You think I believe myself superior? Fine, then. I will be Queenof the Sea. I am superior and I need not learn all their names. But what of you, Ceto? You have forty-nine sisters? Which of them do you call friend?’
I am not looking at her as I say it, but I feel the twitch beside me and press my advantage.
‘You think we do not speak of you? You think we river folk do not know your names and stories? I know how the others shun you. What must it be, to become so monstrous that ninety-eight sisterly eyes look upon you in disgust?’
‘Do not speak one more word of my sisters.’ The order is tight and lacks its usual command. I sense I have crossed some line, but when have there ever been lines between us?
‘You do not give me orders, worm!’ I snap back. ‘You think yourself so high and mighty under your master’s protection, but I will be hiswife, and there will be no protecting you from me.’
Her teeth are bared in my face, her eyes are sparking flint. ‘You knownothingof the Coral Kingdom. You aresmalland spoiled and cannot fathom the power that dwells there. You will not last all of eternity – you will be lucky to last a year. You are not equal to a sea god – and my sisters will rip you apart.’
Our chests heave. We have been here before, I am sure we will be here again, but that flatness remains. She means what she says. The threat is not for sport or amusement.
‘They will not. I will be their queen. No one will be able to touch me.’
My shoulders rise and fall, giving my words more breath than voice. It is unconvincing and she laughs cruelly, the earlier tightness remaining. The sound quivers like my rage as I stalk away. I wish to tangle with her in the dust again, butmy Mother will never forgive me if I ruin anotherkalasiris. The neat hedgerows become labyrinthine and I move quickly, wishing to become lost in them, fighting the dawning awareness of how little I know of my future. I cannot be lost, of course. She is behind me.
Part Two
SALT
… beware my smile.
