“Is she afraid of boats?”
“No, but she doesn’t like them. We go out sometimes, with Matthew. To help him fish.”
“I’m glad you’ve stayed close,” says Joseph. “Even after Caragh. Being around you, I think it lets him keep a piece of her. Something those bastards can’t take away.”
“Yes,” Jules says. Matthew still loves her aunt Caragh, and she hopes that he always will.
Jules looks around. The decks are polished, and everything is neat and clean. Nothing smells like fish. The black sails are tied tight. But of course Chatworth would bring his finest vessel to the island. And the Chatworths must be an important family where they come from. Else how could a son become a suitor?
“Jules, this way.”
Joseph leads her down to the cabins, sneaking quietly and avoiding the crew. They step through a small door into pitch darkness, until he lights a lamp. The room they have entered is also small, with a bunk and a writing desk and a few pieces of clothes still hanging in the closet. Cam stands up on her hind legs and sniffs all around the door.
The belly of the boat is warm, and Jules’s neck comes out of hiding. But she wishes for some excuse to hide her face.
“I don’t know what to say to you,” she says. “I want things to be just like they were before.”
“I know,” says Joseph. “But we can’t exactly play ‘knights raid the castle’ anymore, can we?”
“Certainly not without Arsinoe here to play the dragon.”
They laugh together, remembering.
“Ah, Jules,” he groans. “Why did I have to come back now? During an Ascension? Every moment with you already feels like it’s stolen.”
Jules swallows. It is a jolt, to hear him speak that way. They never used to say things like that when they were children. Not even during their most grand pronouncements of loyalty.
“I got something for you,” he says. “It seems silly now.”
He goes to the writing table and opens a drawer. Inside is a small white box, tied with green ribbon.
“It’s a present, for your birthday,” he says.
No one ever celebrates Jules’s birthday. Jules is a Beltane Begot, a child conceived during the festival of Beltane, like the queens. It is considered very lucky, and they are all supposed to be charmed, but it is a horrible birthday to have. Forgotten and overshadowed.
“Open it.”
Jules unties the ribbon. Inside the box is a delicate silver ring, set with dark green stones. Joseph takes it out and slips it onto her finger.
“On the mainland, this would mean you had to marry me,” he says quietly.
One ring in exchange for a marriage. He must be joking, but he looks so earnest.
“It is a very nice ring.”
“It is,” he says. “But it doesn’t suit you. I should have known.”
“Is it too pretty for me?”
“No,” he says quickly. “I meant, you don’t have to pretend to like it. You don’t have to wear it.”
“I want to wear it.”
Joseph bends his head and kisses her hands. She shivers, though his lips are warm. He looks at her in a way he has never looked at her, and she knows with both hope and dread that it is true. They have grown up.
“I want things to be just as they would have been if I had never been banished,” he says. “I won’t let them cost me anything, Jules. Especially not you.”
“Luke. This cake is dry.”
Arsinoe takes a swallow of tea to wash it down. Normally, Luke’s baking is her favorite on the island. He is always trying out new recipes from the various baking books he keeps on the shelves but never manages to sell.
“I know,” Luke says, and sighs. “I was short by an egg. Sometimes, I wish that Hank was a hen.”
Arsinoe pushes her plate across the counter, and the black-and-green rooster pecks at her crumbs.
Jules will arrive at the shop soon with Joseph. Finally, she will have her own reunion with him. Jules says he does not blame her for his banishment. And that is probably true. But it does not change the fact that he should.
Jules and Joseph are well, though, inseparable once more, and that is enough for Arsinoe. Jules has been so happy that it is almost difficult to be around her. It seems that burning Madrigal’s charm has had no ill effects at all.
Arsinoe has not told Jules, or anyone, about the trip to the bent-over tree. Nor has she told anyone about the curious and growing itch she has to go there again. It would only cause an argument. Low magic is frowned upon by those with gifts. As a queen she ought to shun it. She knows that. But she does not want to hear so out loud, from Jules.
Footsteps on the plank board outside precede the ringing of Luke’s brass bell. Arsinoe takes a deep, unsteady breath. She is nearly as nervous to see Joseph as Jules was, and nearly as excited. He may have been Jules’s friend first, but he became hers too. One of the few she has ever had.
She turns around with cake crumbs on her coat, scowling nervously. . . .
Jules and Joseph are not alone. They have brought a boy with them. Arsinoe grits her teeth. She hardly knows what to say to Joseph. Now she must trade stilted pleasantries with a stranger.
Jules, Joseph, and the boy come in laughing, finishing some private, hilarious conversation. When Joseph sees Arsinoe, his grin spreads across his face. She crosses her arms.
“You look just how I thought you’d look,” she says.
“So do you,” says Joseph. “You never did look like a queen.”
Jules grins silently, but Arsinoe laughs aloud and draws him in for a hug. She is not quite as tall as he is, but almost. Certainly closer to his height than Jules is.
“Better let me in as well,” Luke says, and cuts through to clap Joseph on the back and shake his hand. “Joseph Sandrin. This has been a long time coming.”
“Luke Gillespie,” Joseph says. “It has been a long time. Hello, Hank.”
The rooster on the counter dips his head, and the shop quiets. Arsinoe searches for something to say. Another moment of silence and she will not be able to keep ignoring the stranger they brought with them. But she is not fast enough.
“I want you to meet someone,” Joseph says. He turns her stiffly toward the stranger, a boy about his height, with dark blond hair and an expression that seems too pleased with itself for her liking.
“This is William Chatworth Jr. His family has a delegation this year. He’s one of the suitors.”
“So I’ve heard,” says Arsinoe.
The boy holds his hand out; she takes it and shakes it once.
“You can call me Billy,” he says. “Everyone does. Except for my father.”
Arsinoe narrows her eyes. She would happily wring Jules’s neck if Camden wouldn’t have her eyes for it. She thought she would be meeting old friends. Not being ambushed by an unwanted new one.
“So, Junior,” she says. “How many arses on the Black Council did you have to grease for them to let you arrive so early?”
She smiles sweetly.
“I’ve no idea,” the boy says, and smiles back. “My father does most of the arse-greasing in the family. Shall we go?”
Jules’s and Joseph’s devious plan is a picnic beside Dogwood Pond. A fire and some roasted meat on sticks. Arsinoe hopes that Billy Chatworth is disappointed. Shocked by their lack of grandeur. Scandalized by her lack of decorum. But if he is, he does not show it. He seems perfectly happy to walk to the pond, sinking in snowdrifts up to his knees.
“Arsinoe,” Jules whispers. “At least try to stop scowling.”
“I will not. You shouldn’t have done this. You should have warned me.”
“If I had warned you, you wouldn’t have come. Besides, it had to happen sometime. You’re why he’s here.”
But that is only partially true. The suitors will meet all the queens, but they will only try to court the right one. The one who will be crowned. Not her. If he is excited to meet her, it is only to use her for practice before mee
ting Mirabella and Katharine.
“It could have happened later. I thought today would just be the three of us. Like it used to be.”
Jules sighs as if there is plenty of time for that. But if there is one thing Arsinoe has never had, it is plenty of time.
As they near the pond, the boys jog ahead to start the fire. For the end of December, it is not terribly cold. If the sun would come out from behind the clouds, there might actually be a little melting. Camden bounds through the snow and kicks it up into snowy showers. Arsinoe has to admit, it is a nice day. Even with the interloper.
“Well?” Jules asks when Joseph and Billy are safely out of range. “What do you think of him?”
Arsinoe squints. Billy Chatworth wears the clothes of an islander, but he does not wear them well. He is only an inch or two shorter than Joseph, and his sandy hair is short, almost pressed flat against his head.
“He’s not nearly as handsome as Joseph is,” Arsinoe teases, and Jules blushes scarlet. “I knew he would grow into that Sandrin jawline. And those eyes.” She prods Jules in the side until she laughs and swats her away. “Anyhow, what do you think of the mainlander?”
“I don’t know,” Jules says. “He said he had a cat that looked like me when he was younger. With one blue eye and one green. He said it was born deaf.”
“Charming,” says Arsinoe.
They reach the pond. Joseph takes out a packet of meat for roasting, and Camden walks up his torso to sniff. The fire is already burning hot, bright orange beside the ice and whitewashed trees.
Arsinoe reaches into the nearest tree and tears down branches, one for her and one for Jules. Together, they sharpen them to points with their knives. The mainlander watches, and Arsinoe makes sure to use long, dangerous-looking strokes.
“Would you,” Billy starts, and clears his throat. “Would you like me to do that for you?”
“No,” says Arsinoe. “In fact, I’m making this for you.”
She takes a piece of meat from the packet. It passes over her sharpened tip like butter. Then she shoves it straight into the flames and listens to it sizzle.
“Thank you,” he says. “I’ve never met a girl so skilled with a knife. But then, I’ve never met a girl with a tiger before, either.”
“She’s a mountain cat,” says Jules, and tosses Cam a chunk of raw meat. “We don’t have tigers here.”
“But could you?” Billy asks. “Could there ever be?”
“What do you mean?”
“Could one of you be so strong that you could call one from across the sea?”
“Maybe I am,” Arsinoe muses. “Maybe that’s what’s taking it so long.”
She smirks at Jules as she sharpens another skewer.
“I can’t imagine any gift so strong,” Jules replies. “I’m one of the strongest naturalists on the island, and I can’t call much farther than the deep waters off the coast.”
“You don’t know that,” Arsinoe says. “And I bet you could, if you tried. I bet you could call anything, Jules.”
“I think so too,” says Joseph. “She’s become something fierce, since I left.”
The meat comes off the skewers, and they eat in silence. It is good, marbled and tender. Arsinoe considers allowing the juices to run down her chin, but decides that is going too far.
Still, she does not speak until Jules kicks her in the foot. “How are you finding the island, Junior?”
“I am in love with it,” he says. “Absolutely. Joseph has been telling me about Fennbirn since the moment he came to stay with us. It’s a great pleasure to see it, and to see you, and Jules, who I have heard about even more frequently.”
Arsinoe purses her lips. It is a good answer. And he delivered it so well.
“I suppose I should thank you,” Arsinoe says. “For taking care of Joseph. He did tell you that I was the reason he was banished?”
“Arsinoe,” Joseph says. “Don’t. If I could go back, I wouldn’t change it.”
“But I would,” she says. “I missed you.”
“I missed you, too,” he says, and reaches to take Jules’s hand. “Both of you.”
The two of them ought to be alone. As much as Arsinoe missed Joseph, it was not in the same way that Jules missed him.
Arsinoe pops the last of the meat into her mouth and then stands up.
“Where are you going?” Jules asks.
“To show Junior the views,” she says. “We won’t be gone long.” She winks at Joseph. “Well. Not too long.” Arsinoe leads the mainlander through the trees and onto the narrow, rock-edged trail that winds around the hills above Sealhead. It is an unsafe path to take in winter, unless you know the land. She almost feels guilty. But if he wants to become a king-consort, he will go through worse.
“This is a trail?” he asks, behind her.
“Yes. You can tell by the lack of trees and bushes on it.”
The rocks are sharp, covered with ice more than not. A slide guarantees a cut elbow or split-open knee. A wrong step could kill. Arsinoe walks as fast as her conscience will allow, but Billy does not complain. Nor does he try to steady her. He is a fast learner.
“Is it true that on the mainland you have no gifts?” she asks.
“Gifts? Oh. You mean magic. Yes. That’s true.”
That is not, in fact, what she meant. And it is not true. Though he may not be aware of it, low magic is alive and well in the rest of the world. Madrigal told her so.
“They say that you did, once,” she says. “And that you lost them.”
“Who is this ‘they,’” he asks. “They’ve been telling you wild tales.”
“That would be a strange thing. Having no gifts. The mainland must be a strange place.”
“Having them is far stranger, trust me. And you should stop calling it that. The ‘mainland.’ There are many lands, you know.”
Arsinoe says nothing. On the island, everything that is not the island is the mainland. That is how it has always been. That is how it will always be for her, who will never have the chance to leave and see any different.
“You’ll see,” Billy says. “Someday.”
“No, I won’t. The queen might.”
“Well, aren’t you a queen? You look like one. Black-as-night hair, striking black eyes.”
“Striking,” Arsinoe mutters under her breath. She smirks. She will not be won over that easily.
They crest the last bit of hill and reach the overlook.
“There,” Arsinoe says, and points. “The most complete view of Wolf Spring on the island. The Sandrins’ house, and the winter market. And your boat, bobbing in the harbor.”
“It’s lovely,” he says, and turns about. “What’s that peak there?”
“That is Mount Horn. I was born at the base of it, in its shadow, in the glen at the Black Cottage. But you can’t see that from here.”
Billy is out of breath. That pleases her. She is only a little too warm for her scarf. When he takes her hand, it is so unexpected that she does not even try to jerk away.
“Thank you,” he says. “For showing me. I’m sure you’ll show me much more, before you are crowned and I am crowned beside you. Or are king-consorts crowned? That part was never exactly clear.”
“You are very stubborn,” she says, and tugs her hand loose. “But you’re not a fool, and neither am I.”
He smiles a begrudging smile that looks very much like Joseph’s. Lopsided and devious. Perhaps he learned it from him.
“All right, all right,” he says. “My God, this is difficult.”
“It will only get worse. Perhaps you should go home.”
“I can’t,” he says.
“Why not?”
“The crown, of course, and everything that comes with it. The trade rights to Fennbirn Island. The prestige. My father wants it all.”
“And you think I can help you get it?”
Billy shrugs. He looks out over the cove thoughtfully.
“Joseph thinks you can. And I h
ope that’s true. It would make him happy. He won’t like it if you die and I marry another queen.”
Arsinoe frowns. Joseph would not like it. But he would come around. They would all come around. Even Jules.
“This is all so strange,” Billy says. “I boarded a boat in the bay and sailed through some mist, and there was Fennbirn, though it was never there before when I sailed in the same direction. And now here I am, taking part in all this madness.”
“Looking for sympathy?” Arsinoe asks.
“No,” he says. “Never. I know what you’ve got to do is worse. And I like what you did just now. Snatched your hand away. Made me come clean. There are not many girls who would do that, where I come from.”
“There are plenty of them here,” Arsinoe says. “So many you’ll soon tire of us. Just don’t waste your time on me, all right? I am not . . . I am not to be courted.”
“All right,” he says, and shows her his palm. “But we will be neighbors, for some time. So perhaps you will shake my hand and guide me carefully back down this treacherous path?”
Arsinoe smiles and shakes Billy’s hand. She likes him better already, now that they understand each other.
“What do you think they’re doing now?” Jules asks as she stirs the fire.
“I think everything is going according to plan,” Joseph replies.
He moves closer to her on the damp, snowy log. He is warm, and the fire is warm. Jules fidgets with the green stone on her finger. On the mainland, it would have meant he wanted to marry her, he said. But on the island, it is only a ring. She has not yet found the courage to ask him which way he meant it.
“It is a bit early to say so,” says Jules. “She might not even like him. And he still has to meet the other queens.”
“He does. And he will. But he won’t want to. After all the stories I’ve told him about Arsinoe, I think he is half in love with her already.”
Jules does not know what stories Joseph could tell about Arsinoe to make someone fall in love, as they were only children when they were parted. But if they were lies or embellishments, Billy will discover the truth soon enough.
“It will be strange, after she’s crowned,” Joseph says. “Having to bow my head when she speaks.”