by Jane M. R.
The cook serves my grandfather first, then my grandmother, myself, and Zadicayn last. I have just picked up my fork to start into my salad when Zadicayn gasps so loud it startles me so I drop my fork and it clatters against the ceramic bowel.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
He points into his bowel. “Tomatoes art poisonous!”
Forget what I said about dinner being an easy affair. Weirdly enough, my grandmother comes to the rescue.
“Oh, Jaicom, living in Valemorren you have probably not heard the latest new discovery that tomatoes are not, in fact, poisonous. Restaurants are starting to serve them and people seem to be okay. But you may choose not to eat them, if you like.”
“Tomatoes are poisonous?” my grandfather inquires.
My grandmother pats him on his hand. “No, Charles, they are safe. Valemorren just doesn’t get the same news we do here in Bristol.”
Zadicayn pushes his tomatoes to the side but manages to eat everything else without mishap. And because I find it better from that moment on just to expect the worst, it saves me from mutilating my head against the table cloth when Zadicayn belches out loud, punctuated with a, “My complements to the cook,” before I can stop him.
My grandfather probably didn’t notice and my grandmother is already enamored with the wizard so this archaic display is passed by with merely a quirked smile from her who I am glad more than ever is still stuck in King George’s Era.
Chicken is served next. Zadicayn is on his fourth refill of gas water.
“Really?”
“Yes. And then she calleth me a monkey.”
My grandmother lowers her gaze on me and shakes her head, making a clucking noise with her tongue. “You are too kind to marry her if she treats you that way.”
“Hello, Jaicom,” my grandfather warbles shakily. “Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too, grandpa. Well, Brine here does hath a sort of charm that would lure even a mad man away from his insanity.” He winks at me and I conclude to fix my gaze on my plate for the rest of dinner.
“I suppose I should credit her at least that. When she was just four years old she comes crying to me with a dead bird in her hands. She’s always had a soft spot for all living things weighed under misfortune. She gave away her brand new coat one December to a gypsy boy.”
“Hello, Jaicom.”
“Hello grandfather.”
“Can we not talk about me?” I think it’s the first words I’ve said all dinner.
“Oh of course, dear. So modest, even when praise is deserved. Now, Jaicom, rumor has it the Queen might make your father a Lord?”
I have no idea how to save Zadicayn with this one. I don’t even look up to see if he’s looking at me for answers. My eyes remain fixed on my plate.
“He forbids me to speak upon it,” he replies easily. “Yew shall be the first to know if it becomes true.”
My grandmother inhales enough air to fluff her proud shoulders. Zadicayn is the first to finish his chicken and he tosses the bone neatly over his head.
I don’t see this happen. I’m still looking at my plate. The thump on the wall and my grandmother’s uncharacteristic silence are enough to remind me that when one dines in a castle dinner hall where there is straw and dogs on the floor for the purpose to catch such things it would, of course, be normal.
I count five heartbeats before Zadicayn pushes his chair back but the cook beats him to it and picks up the bone, scurrying out of there quick enough that there is a chance it never happened.
“Hello, Jaicom. Nice to meet you.”
OOO
I manage to make it out of dinner without killing anyone. Digressed from my dress, I throw myself onto my pillow washed with lavender. My nerves only get more crinkly and my stomach cramping worse. I have this vain wish that the world will vanish some time during the night so I don’t see what new tragedies await to ambush me upon opening my eyes.
But I don’t have to wait until morning. I’m being ambushed right now.
Clearly, Zadicayn has found the toilet. And he’s flushed it three times.
It’s upon the fourth flush that I toss the blankets off me, making my cramping bark, and throwing on my night robe I storm out of my room. My grandmother doesn’t believe in locking people in their rooms, either.
The water closet is a new addition to the house, so it is crammed in what used to be the coat closet beside the front door. The door to the water closet is open and Zadicayn is staring inside it, watching what must be the water I hear gurgling down the drain. He reaches for the pull chain again.
“Zadicayn.”
He drops his arms and looks at me. “I dost nary care what ye say. This tis magic.”
“Magic? How can this be magic when whatever you did to the Fae Gate to move its opening from the canyon to the boulder you said was manual?”
“That tis manual. This? Magic. I maketh the mistake of asking thy grandmother to whence I might findeth the garderobe since ye escaped promptly after dinner. She thought I wast being funny and directed me here to the water closet.”
“I’m… sorry for leaving so suddenly,” I say, holding myself too tightly with my arms. “I’ve not been in a bright mood today.”
“I hath noticed. Ye a’right?”
I can’t start. Because if I do, it will all spill out and I’ll say things I can’t. Like, I hate Zadicayn. I hate him for interrupting my life with temptations I can’t take. I hate him for not being engrained into my society with status. I hate him for being a hunted, castaway in a castle magicked halfway to another realm. I hate Durain for showing me a freedom I can’t have. I hate being tied into dresses. I hate that I’m going to have castle printed china despite I would have picked those out myself and only picked rose to keep up appearance. I hate that my father-in-law sent an assassin on me and I hate how Zadicayn is starting to look really good in current day English fashion, and him leaning against the wall barefoot with his white shirt untucked isn’t helping.
“I’m… getting married and you are distracting me,” is what finally comes out. Worse, I don’t know how to follow up on that with something that isn’t going to charge my emotions and either make him hate me or make him pick up on I don’t want to marry Jaicom despite I have to and despite I am going to.
“Distracting thee?” he questions. I hope he doesn’t ask me to explain. I’ll just go back to my room and pretend to sleep. He looks away from me, toward the clock ticking on the wall across the dark foyer from us. The thumping second hand helps fill in the silence. “Forgive me, Brine. I tease even though I know I nary shouldst. If ye had nary been attacked on the train, ye wouldst nary hath known I wast even there.”
“I am glad you saved me on the train. That’s not what I’m referring to.”
“I knoweth what ye art referring to.”
I don’t want to be having this conversation. I want it to be twenty years from now already so I can shove Zadicayn back into my Pleasant Memory section of my life experiences.
“So… so I’m sorry for getting snippy at the shop. It’s just that now I have to explain to Jaicom why I thought it was necessary to buy blue silk pillows when his favorite color is red. And I’m going to have to hope either my grandparents die tomorrow or keep making up excuses why Jaicom can never meet them because you two looking nothing alike.”
“Ye art the one who requested I show up here last night.”
“I know! I’m just… that’s why I’m frustrated. I know it’s not your fault.” It’s totally your fault. “And… and I’m frazzled with…” I absolutely have no idea how to say, I’m frazzled because I want to spend every waking minute with you but I can’t spend even another moment with you. I like you. I can’t have you. I can’t even say I’m going to miss him after I’m married because I can’t afford him translating that into something else. Just read my heart, Zadicayn. I don’t try to finish what I was saying. My hormones aren’t balanced enough right now for me to even assess if I am mak
ing any sense. Why am I still standing here? I should be back in bed.
“Then upon my return to Valemorren, I shall bid thee farewell so ye can focus on thy future.”
“No! I don’t want you to do that! That’s not what I’m saying.”
He has much more patience than I think I deserve. “Well, Brine, what dost ye want?”
I can feel my heart beat throughout my whole body, like I’m one giant pulse. “… I don’t know.” I fail at being human. I am not making any sense. “I’m sorry. I’m really tired and my stomach really hurts so I’m going back to bed before I make a further mess out of myself.”
“Thy stomach hurts?”
“Yes. No big deal. It happens sometimes. It’s also one of the reasons that was putting me in a bad mood today.”
“Ye art flowering?”
I don’t know what that means but it sounds really awkward. “I’ll be fine. I’ll see you in the morning.” I turn to escape upstairs from this worsening situation but he’s quicker.
“Tarry a moment.”
“Zadicayn, I am really not in the mood for anything more today. I want to go to bed.”
He’s waving me over to him. I hesitate.
“I hath a sester. I know about the cramping.”
Well, now I’m in a situation. He won’t let me go upstairs but I can’t go closer to him to see what he thinks he can do for me. So I don’t do anything. He comes at me instead.
“I worked on a spell to use for my sester when this happened to her. Wouldst ye allow me to try it on thee? It worked for her. She came to me every month so I could do this for her.”
I need to keep as little contact between us as possible, but the mere thought of relief has me nodding my head. He stands next to me and puts his palm on my stomach. A little lower, actually, because that is where it is. He knows.
I’ve never heard him speak a spell yet, but standing this close I catch a breathy sigh infused with tiny whispers. To me they aren’t even words. Just sounds.
Whatever he said worked, because my stomach relaxes so much I’m afraid it’s going to fall out of me and I suddenly love life and everyone in it and I want to conquer the world and eventually become Queen. I’m even feeling good enough to forgive Zadicayn for all his faults.
I blink. “Thank you.”
“It worketh?”
“Yes. I… thank you.” I can’t meet his eyes which I know are gold, not while I’m standing this close to him alone in the dark foyer in my grandparent’s house.
“Ye art welcome. I pray a good sleep upon thee.” He turns sharply away from me and takes the stairs two at a time.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
ZADICAYN
Now I know what Brine was saying about wanting to be free. That once the bird is out of the cage – or vault – it’s not so easy to go back in.
I forgot what family dinners were like, talking about unimportant matters and matters that will change the future in equal quantities alike. What it was like to associate with strangers and learn their experiences so I can embolden my own.
I know Brine thinks I’m going to lock myself away in my castle upon our return. I see it in her silence as we share the same booth on the train. I haven’t allowed her to change her mind about it because I don’t know if it is better for her near future if she thinks she has no more access to me. But I’m a little more selfish. Meeting the Black Magician has seeded an idea and I will need her help for it to work.
“Ye sayeth there tis a man named Corden who wanteth to meet me?”
Her gaze out the window snaps sharply on me, tossing a brown curl against her cheek. “Yes.”
I muse a moment longer, trying to force my plan together faster. “I wouldst like to meet with him.”
Her body quivers. I recognize that as her refraining from throwing herself at me for an embrace. “Oh you will! So you’re not going to lock yourself away?”
I massage my right hand where I used a relocation spell to transfer Brine’s cramping into my hand. Her cramps are much worse than my sisters. “At least, nary yet.”
She explodes in place with excitement. I know that if I were sitting next to her instead of across, I would have received one of her hugs.
“What changed your mind?”
I can tell her without bringing up what happened at the gypsy camp. “It occurs to me that maybe I can merge back into society. I think that if I can findeth nineteen good men to present to Life – essentially doing the hard work for them – then mayhap Life wilt grant unto them Fae magic. Right now they dost nary hath the time to find these men themselves. And when I present these nineteen men, if they still say nay, then I shall revert back to spelling meself and locking meself away.”
“And you think Corden could become a wizard?”
“Well… I hast nary met the man yet. But certain it couldst be a possibility.”
She’s nodding fervently. “Okay okay. I’ll contact Joseara and request her to set up a meet time with us. She’s really quick to respond to me so I’ll show up at your castle to tell you when she does. But you better not lock me out.”
“I shan’t.”
“Oh! I’m so glad you aren’t locking yourself away!”
“Didst ye say last night that I am distracting thee because ye art getting married?”
Her excitement mellows quickly. She won’t look at me. “I did say that, yes.”
“Then how dost ye explain thy desire to keep seeing me?”
I see she doesn’t know how to answer that. So I wait.
It takes her an awfully long time to speak again. “You bring me joy, Zadicayn.” She’s pinching the fingers on her white gloves, pulling them partway off. “You bring me freedom and joy and I know I shouldn’t take it, but I do. Because it brings me freedom and joy and I won’t have that once I am married. And maybe I want to fly again in the Fae Realm.”
“Ye knoweth that only makes it worse for thyself. If ye force a perpetually drunk man to sober upon the instant he wilt die.”
“I know. I know.”
She has no more words to offer after that. The spectrum of human emotions has a wedge of feelings that do not have words because no one knows how to define them. Since I understand, I let her be.
OOO
A half a day gives me enough time to almost completely clean out the canyon filled with a landslide of trees, earth, and rocks. I’m still careful with the smoke from the fire I use to burn the trees because I don’t want to alert Valemorren yet to the oddity that the canyon is suddenly, randomly, clear again. But I need this passage open again like it used to be so when my plan works – when my plan works – the canyon will be open for visitors and dignitaries to travel. Like they used to.
Next, I move to tackle the disrepair of my castle. I fix broken furniture. Make sure no nests have eggs before I knock them loose from the rafters of the Grand Hall. In general, I’m feeling pretty accomplished.
I’m still not sure how to get over the dilemma of my terrible mattress. I still can’t sleep on one but I’m determined to be able to do so someday soon. I really need a new one, but without a way to transport it from the village without using magic, I must work with what I’ve got.
My own mattress I spell down to the river. The summer night is warm enough, so I strip off half my clothes and proceed to jump upon my mattress in an archaic attempt to wash it.
“Are those the scars that –”
I whirl around so fast that I slip on the wet mattress and nearly lose my whole body into the river when I fall. Now sopping wet, I regain my feet and steady myself enough to see that it is Brine standing on the bank.
“Brine, ye scareth me.”
She clasps her hands in front of her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to announce myself without scaring you.”
“Tis a’right,” I say, though my pounding heart doesn’t agree with me.
I snag my tunic off the boulder and slip it on, least her society comes charging across the bridge above us to tar an
d feather me for allowing her to see me with my shirt off. “What didst ye ask about a scar?”
“Those… those three scares on your back. Positioned in a triangle. Is that where they…”
She doesn’t know how to ask the question. She doesn’t have to. “Yea,” I say. “That tis where the three blood sucking diamonds on the Binding wert pressed into my back.” Pressed is most certainly the wrong word, but I don’t want to taint her with anything more violent.
“Is that your mattress in the water?”
I look down at my hairy bare toes as if surprised to see the mattress beneath me. “It hath about three hundred and forty-two pounds of dust inside. I wast attempting to make it more worthy for my devilishly handsome visage.”
“How did you get it down here?”
Clearly, I can’t let her see that I am any less of a man because I used magic instead of strength. “Well… I carried it, of course.”
“No you didn’t.”
“Ye of little faith.”
“A relocation spell?”
“I shalt relocate you.” I point at her, now trying to figure out how to gracefully dismount from my vulnerable position on the mattress in the river.
“What kind of wizard will relocate his three hundred forty-two pounds of mattress to the river and not relocate the dirt out of the mattress?” She grins at me. She promptly stops grinning when she begins to elevate off the ground, right until her left heel touches my specified leaf where I’m focused on the bush next to her.
“Zadicayn!” Her body flails as if she is still responsible for keeping herself upright.
“The kind of wizard who can only relocate one object at a time,” I say. “Tis easier to move one mattress than tis a trillion particles of dust.”
“I’m sure a real wizard could do it with the right spell!” she dares to taunt despite her suspended vulnerability under my control.
I guide her, suspended, right onto the wet mattress. She lands with a squeal and sodden splash. I vacate the mattress before she can arrange a counter attack, standing safely on the bank while she scrambles out of the cold.