“Not with me,” he said firmly.
I knew I should argue. Or alert the guards, or try to seduce him. Something. But a tiny, treacherous voice whispered that I didn’t have to. He was only the second candidate. I would try again with the next one. I would be ready. But for now, I would rest.
***
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Rose.”
“Don’t you want to know mine? It’s—”
“It’s forbidden, is what it is,” I said sharply. “Don’t tell me.”
“Of course we wouldn’t want to break the rules,” he murmured.
“We certainly would not,” I agreed. “Ask someone what happened to the last man who broke the rules.”
As soon as the words left my mouth, I felt something twist in my belly and I realized I didn’t want him to know the answer. I didn’t want him to know what I’d done.
***
We sat in the dark, huddled in our corners. Hours passed in deafening silence until I thought I would go mad.
“You think I’m a monster, don’t you?” I blurted.
He didn’t answer right away. I bit my lip, willing my tears to stay put.
“I don’t,” he said finally. “But if you want to tell me about it, I’ll listen.”
Before I could stop it, the whole story burst out of me. I hadn’t told anyone, though I was positive my mother knew. She hadn’t said a thing about it, hadn’t made any reference at all to the flogging. I was sure it was because she was so ashamed she couldn’t bear to think about it.
“You’re not a monster.”
I jerked as something touched me. My confession had covered the sounds of his careful progress across the room. When he tried again, I let him take my hand and even curled my fingers around his.
“You’re not a monster,” he said again.
“I feel like I am,” I whispered.
“That’s because you’re a good person,” he said. “And not a monster. You didn’t force him to hurt you. You didn’t attack him. You didn’t even threaten him. A real man, a good man, would never have laid a hand on you no matter what you did or said, but this man tried to kill you over a few insults. No. He got what he deserved.”
I nodded, though I knew he couldn’t see me, and waited for dawn with my head against his shoulder.
***
“You’re in the third month,” Summer said. “Still nothing?”
She didn’t even bother to hide her eagerness. I bit my tongue and let her gloat. Let her think what she would. I knew the truth of why I hadn’t conceived, and I wasn’t about to tell her, of all people.
“It’s too bad you’re so boring.” She sighed. “If only he knew how pretty you are.”
“Don’t be absurd,” I said. “Attraction has nothing to do with whether the seed takes or not.”
“Maybe not,” she said, a nasty gleam in her eye. “But it certainly has something to do with how much effort he puts into planting it.”
She’s just being awful because it amuses her, I told myself. It doesn’t mean anything. But I felt her gaze follow me as I left, and I knew she would hurt me if she could.
***
I awoke to a splash of pain on my cheek and shot upright with a cry of alarm. He cursed as he fumbled the candle, spilling hot wax on himself as well. I stared, dumbfounded. He was beautiful, not ugly at all. But of course Summer would lie, I realized.
“Princess?” a voice called from outside the door. “Are you well?”
“Fine—I’m fine!” I yelled back. To him, I hissed. “Hide that! Blow it out!”
But it was too late—the guards, alerted by my all too obvious distress, burst into the chamber and seized the young man by both arms.
“No!” I cried. “Wait—please.”
As they dragged him away, he looked into my eyes and smiled.
“My name is Daemon,” he said, and then he was gone.
***
“You did this."
I slammed into my sister's chambers, trembling with rage. After Daemon was taken, Hermia told me how Summer had spent weeks dripping poisoned honey in his ear, goading him into violating the sacred darkness of the Trial Chamber. I should have known. It was just the sort of cruel, selfish plan that would most appeal to Summer…one that would hurt me but couldn’t be pinned on her.
“I?” She smiled innocently. “I was only trying to help. I don’t know what you’re so upset about. You have a whole year…unless things keep going wrong, of course.”
She smirked at me, her chin raised in an attitude of perfect insolence. I slapped her with all my strength and whirled away. But her slack jaw and bugging eyes were cold comfort against the bitterness in my heart. I held tight to the knowledge that I could still fix this. I had to fix this.
That night, I wrapped my shawl tightly around myself and scurried like a rat through the corridors to the lavish chambers that would serve as Daemon’s prison until his fate could be decided. My courses were due in just over two weeks. If I bled, the whole nightmare would begin again. Daemon would be held forever as a bond-servant, forced to scrub floors and turn spits for the rest of his life. Anyone could give him an order, and anyone could have him whipped if he refused. He’d be less than the meanest street cur.
Unless I didn’t bleed.
***
Our time was almost up. I could expect my moonblood any day now—or not. I closed my eyes, hope and dread mingling in my chest. I’d lied to my mother, bribed and blackmailed Daemon’s guards, defied the Temple…I could only hope it would be worth it. I didn’t know what I would do—what the Temple would do—if I wasn’t with child. They’d see my actions as theft: as the crown princess, my body belonged to the people, not to myself. There was only one punishment for theft—but I was the princess. It could still be alright.
“What will you do?” Daemon asked, as if he could hear my thoughts. “If we haven’t…”
“I’ll do what I must,” I said. I kept my fears inside; no need for us both to have nightmares. “And then I’ll marry you, child or no.”
“And if you lose your crown?”
“I’ll have you." I raised our twined fingers to my lips. “One way or another.”
***
This is it, I thought.
I flitted through the shadowy corridors, my shawl wrapped protectively around my head and shoulders. My courses were a week late. Tonight I would lie with Daemon, perhaps for the last time. Tomorrow I would submit myself to the Temple’s examination and find out whether Daemon would live or die.
“Princess.”
I whipped around, crouching against the wall instinctively.
“Gentle Mother,” I stammered. “I was just—”
“Silence,” the high priestess said. “Selfish girl. You must have realized that your lover would pay the price for your foolishness.”
“Price.” I had to ask, though I knew the answer. “What is the price?”
The priestess’s eyes glittered. “Death, of course.”
Oh, Daemon, I thought, my heart freezing in my chest. This was my choice, my risk. I never dreamed the punishment would fall on Daemon instead of me. How could I have been so stupid? I will save him, I told myself. Somehow.
“Let me pass.”
“You will come with me, you wretched girl—”
I am a princess. I leaned in, my face only inches from hers.
“You forget yourself, Gentle Mother. Let me pass.”
No time for regret, or fear of reprisal. I brushed past her, resisting the urge to hunch my shoulders against her eyes burning into my back. But as soon as I turned the corner, I ran, nearly bowling over Daemon’s guard as he moved to open the door. I kicked it shut behind me, panting, and stumbled into Daemon’s arms.
“Undress,” I gasped. “Now.”
“What’s the hurry?” he asked, trying to take hold of my hands as I frantically stripped out of my gown.
I didn’t answer; I dragged his mouth down on mine.
He mistook my desperation for passion and answered in kind—but then, perhaps it was I who was mistaken.
***
I paced the room like a tiger, my bare feet whispering against the smooth stone floor. Any moment now, a Healer would come through that door and give me the best news of my life—or the worst.
I’d been trapped in the Temple for three days while the Healers performed a battery of tests to confirm my pregnancy, or lack thereof. They’d taken my urine every morning and mixed it in separate bowls of vinegar, dandelion leaves, and pine needles; they’d left it sitting in the sun; they’d poured it over sugar; they’d even tasted it. They had examined every inch of my body and made me bathe in hot water and powdered mustard in order to bring on my courses. But I hadn’t bled.
Where was the Healer? I sat down, fidgeted, got up again. I pulled my hands through my hair and chewed my nails until, finally, the door opened. But instead of the Healer, I found Hermia.
“Princess!” she cried. “Oh, my lady, come quickly! Your young man—they’ve taken him!”
“When?” I grasped her arms, my fingers biting into her flesh. “And where?”
“This morning. For—for questioning.” Tears streamed down Hermia’s face. “One of the guards told me. They’re taking him to the throne room now for judgment. I’m sorry, my lady, I didn’t know—”
I didn’t wait to hear more. I dashed past her, my skirts streaming behind me. If they’ve killed him, I’ll destroy them all, I vowed. Queen or not.
I all but flew back to the palace, heedless of the sharp rocks digging into my feet or the burning in my lungs. After what seemed like an eternity, I burst into the throne room, where my eyes immediately fell on Daemon’s bruised and bloodied form. He knelt before the Council of Mothers, cradling a broken arm—but he was alive. My whole body sagged momentarily with relief. I placed a hand on his uninjured shoulder and squared my own, lifting my gaze to meet that of the high priestess.
I took a deep breath and said the only thing I could think of, the only thought in my head: “You can’t have him.”
I had meant to speak with confidence and authority. But all I heard, and all the high priestess heard, was a desperate bluff. I had no authority. Not yet. The high priestess smiled, sure of her victory.
“It is not your place to command us, Princess."
My fingers tightened on Daemon’s shoulder. Much as I hated it, she was right. Unless—
“Your pardon, Gentle Mother.” An aging woman in Healer’s robes entered the throne room and bowed politely. “I must speak with the Princess.”
Without waiting for permission, the Healer approached with measured steps and whispered in my ear. I murmured my thanks; she nodded and stepped back with another bow.
“Tell me again,” I said coldly. “Tell me again that it is not my place.”
“It is not and never will be,” the high priestess snarled. “You will hold your tongue.”
“I will not,” I said, pinning her with a hard stare. “By right of the Mother’s blessing, I will be your Queen—and I say again, you cannot have him.”
Daemon’s eyes snapped to me; my mother laughed in exultation, right in the high priestess’s face.
“Rose?”
I smiled and took Daemon’s bruised and bloodied face in my hands. “I’ve conceived.”
He closed his eyes, leaned his forehead against mine. He said, “I love you.”
“As I love you.” I kissed him.
And it was done.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
A Queen Born was originally published in Timeless Tales Magazine in 2016 under the title “Mixed Blessings.” The story is based on the myth of Eros and Psyche, though here their roles are reversed: the male suitor is punished for looking upon the princess’s face instead of the other way around, as seen in the original myth.
Γέννηση μιας Βασίλισσας
Στην αρχή ήταν η φωτιά. Μετά ο πάγος. Τελικά, ήλθε η ζωή. Η γη γέννησε ξανά πουλιά και ζώα και τελικά εμάς, τα στερνά και έσχατα παιδιά της. Ευλόγησε όλο τον άλλο κόσμο με αφθονία και γονιμότητα, εμείς όμως έπρεπε να εξιλεωθούμε παλεύοντας σκληρά. Είναι σωστό αυτό. Είναι δίκαιο. Εμείς φέραμε τον θάνατο στον κόσμο.
Τα λόγια του Δόγματος αντήχησαν στο μυαλό μου και προετοιμάστηκα για αυτά που με περίμεναν. Η σημερινή μέρα, όταν θα κλείσω τα δεκαοκτώ, είναι η μέρα που θα γίνω γυναίκα. Όταν έλθει η νύχτα, όλα θα είναι πια διαφορετικά.
Πάντα γνώριζα ότι κάποια μέρα θα είχα ιερό καθήκον να κάνω ένα παιδί, αν μπορούσα. Αν δε μπορούσα, το προνόμιο θα μεταβιβαζόταν στην αδελφή μου. Η Θερινή θα ενθουσιαζόταν αν τελικά ήμουν στείρα… και θα μπορούσα να ήμουν. Ακόμη και στην οικογένειά μας, που κυβερνούσε με το νόμο της γονιμότητας, εμφανιζόταν που και που μια άγονη μήτρα. Αν ήταν η δική μου, η Θερινή θα έπαιρνε την θέση μου – και τον θρόνο.
«Ροδάνθη, έφτασε η ώρα».
Η μητέρα μου στεκόταν στην πόρτα και πίσω της ήταν η γιαγιά, η θεία και τρεις ξαδέλφες μου – όλες οι μητέρες της βασιλικής οικογένειας. Σύντομα, όπως ευλαβικά πιστεύαμε, θα ήμουν σαν κι αυτές.
***
Ήμουν στο κρεβάτι μου και περίμενα, όταν η μητέρα μου ήλθε στο υπνοδωμάτιο για να με πάρει, όπως έκανε κάθε νύχτα τους δυο τελευταίους μήνες. Αυτή τη φορά, όμως, δεν σηκώθηκα να την υποδεχτώ αλλά συνέχισα να κάθομαι, τα χέρια μου τυλιγμένα προστατευτικά γύρω μου.
«Μητέρα, δεν θέλω να πάω».
Έκπληξη ζωγραφίστηκε στο πρόσωπο της μητέρας μου. Με μια εξασκημένη κίνηση έδιωξε την Ερμεία, την υπηρέτριά μου, και κάθισε δίπλα μου, κρατώντας απαλά τα χέρια μου στα δικά της.
«Σε χτύπησε;» ρώτησε.
«Ό-όχι» είπα αβέβαια. «Εμένα δεν… αλλά πονάει! Και, μάνα, λέει τα πιο φριχτά πράγματα για… όταν θα παντρευτούμε. Αυτά που θα μου κάνει».
«Μη δίνεις σημασία» είπε η μητέρα μου. «Γνωρίζεις ότι δεν πρέπει να παντρευτείς αυτό τον άντρα ή τον επόμενο. Μπορείς να παντρευτείς όποιον διαλέξεις – ή κανέναν. Αλλά, αγάπη μου… πρέπει να συλλάβεις πρώτα».
Συμφώνησα, δυστυχισμένη, ανήμπορη να μιλήσω.
«Δεν είσαι υποχρεωμένη να το κάνεις» μου είπε. «Μπορείς να σταματήσεις. Αλλά αξίζει να χάσεις το στέμμα σου; Το μέλλον σου… την οικογένειά σου;»
Αρνήθηκα, κουνώντας το κεφάλι μου. Αν απαρνιόμουν τον θρόνο, θα με πετούσαν έξω από την βασιλική οικογένεια και θα αναγκαζόμουν να ζήσω κλεισμένη στο Ναό, γεννώντας παιδιά που θα ανάτρεφαν άλλοι. Και το χειρότερ�
�, η Θερινή θα έπαιρνε τη θέση μου. Ποτέ δεν χρησιμοποίησε την θέση της, ως πριγκίπισσα, για να βοηθήσει τους δικούς της, μόνο για να φτάσει τους προσωπικούς, εγωιστικούς στόχους της. Ανατρίχιασα όταν σκέφτηκα τι θα έκανε αν γινόταν Βασίλισσα.
Η μητέρα μου χάιδεψε το χέρι και ξεδίπλωσε το τελετουργικό φόρεμα, κρατώντας το για να το βάλω. Υπάκουα, το φόρεσα και την άφησα να δέσει το ζωνάρι. Πήρα μια βαθιά ανάσα, ίσιωσα τους ώμους μου. Η μητέρα είχε δίκιο, δε μπορούσα ν’ αφήσω έναν άντρα, όσο αηδιαστικός κι αν ήταν, να με κάνει να ξεχάσω την αποστολή μου. Και όμως…
«Μητέρα», είπα, «αν με χτυπήσει, θα τον διώξουν;»
«Ναι, αφού τον μαστιγώσουν». Με κοίταξε ερευνητικά, με ατάραχο πρόσωπο.
Το στομάχι μου σφίχτηκε. Είχα δει ένα μαστίγωμα, όταν ήμουν πολύ μικρή. Η ανάμνηση μ’ αρρώσταινε ακόμη. Αλλά τώρα είχα και νέες μνήμες που έκαναν το στομάχι μου να σφίγγεται και στοίχειωναν τον ύπνο μου. Θυμόμουν καθαρά, υπερβολικά καθαρά, την ασφυκτική πίεση της ιδρωμένης σάρκας στο στέρνο μου και τον φριχτό, βρώμικο πόνο ανάμεσα στα σκέλια μου. Άκουγα ξανά τις αρρωστημένες υποσχέσεις που ψιθύριζε στο αυτί μου, ένοιωθα την βρώμικη αναπνοή του στα μάγουλά μου, πνιγόμουν με την διάχυτη αντρική μπόχα, μια κρεμμυδίλα που παρέμενε ακόμη και μετά το τελετουργικό λουτρό.
Είχα χαρίσει το σώμα μου σ’ αυτό το τέρας για δυο κύκλους του φεγγαριού, και ο νόμος απαιτούσε να του δώσω τρεις. Δε μπορούσα να το κάνω. Δε μπορούσα ν’ αντέξω άλλη μια νύχτα, πόσο μάλλον όλο το μήνα. Αλλά δεν θ’ απαρνιόμουν και το στέμμα μου. Έσφιξα τα χείλη μου, κι έγνεψα καταφατικά, κοιτώντας τη μητέρα μου στα μάτια.
The Roots Of Our Magic Page 10
