Chapter Ten The Villainess, the Heroine and the Competition

CHAPTER TEN

The Villainess, the Heroine and the Competition

All who beheld Lady Lia said she was marked for greatness. Her willowy body was a song of grace, her face a poem. Also, her mother was dead. That is a sure sign.

Time of Iron , ANONYMOUS

N ow Rae's plot with the Cobra was set, the next step was securing an invitation to the ball. She spent several days practising with the Cobra for the big ballroom scene, and lying in wait to seize her moment. The ladies' archery tournament should be a snap. She remembered Alice mentioning it in passing. The petty competition between court ladies was so uneventful it hadn't even happened on the page. This was the perfect low-key setting in which to encounter the heroine.

Rae must smooth over the whole framed-for-treason business with the upcoming ball's guest of honour. She didn't anticipate problems. Lia was a pushover.

The Court of Air and Grace was strictly no boys allowed, guards posted on the battlements over the enclosed courtyard. Rae found herself startled by how much she missed Key's presence and reassuring tendency to enact extreme violence on her enemies. Emer stayed at her side, but Emer still hated Rae.

So did everyone else.

Ladies-in-waiting crowded the courtyard, beautiful as flowers with eyes cold as stone. It was like being in a shark tank, if sharks wore fluffy dresses. Some ladies-in-waiting were named in the book, but Rae hadn't memorized the king's side chicks. She did identify the two girls in the lead, since they were identical. Lady Hortensia and Lady Horatia Nemeth had lemon-blond hair and lemon-sour mouths. Rae could only tell them apart because Hortensia, the older twin, was wearing their family's magical gauntlets. Commander General Nemeth's daughters were minor mean-girl characters who tormented Lia because they envied her the king's love. Now they clearly intended to bully Rahela.

Cute. They could try.

"You death-cheating harlot," said Hortensia, in a nasal drawl. "I'm surprised you showed your face. Aren't you, my dear?"

Horatia snickered. "I expected to see her face, my dear. Her head still being attached to her body is the surprise."

"Must we cat-fight, ladies?" purred Rae. Her voice had three settings, ‘seductive', ‘mocking' and ‘mockingly seductive'. None were appropriate. Oh, well.

Hortensia's mouth formed a shape too delicate to be called a frown. Rae believed this expression was a moue . "Whenever the worst people fall low, they expect everyone to be better than they were and not kick them. Why should we?"

"You misunderstand," Rae said pleasantly. "If we cat-fight, you will lose. That would be embarrassing for you."

Hortensia waved her gauntleted hand. The murmurous flowerbed of women, in gowns of poppy red and daffodil yellow and lilac… lilac, parted like a petal-bright sea. At the far wall were archery butts, cloth-bound structures of white sacking and stencilled red circles. Hortensia took aim and fired, magic sending red ripples along her arm. Her arrow struck the third innermost ring.

"Shots fired. Literally," Rae muttered to Emer, who stared straight ahead as though she couldn't hear a thing.

Rae hoped the land of Eyam had poker, because Emer would be so good. Better than Rae was likely to be at archery, but Rae had tied up her hair in a practical ponytail, put on her gauntlets, and was ready for action. Sunlight struck red against the silvery enchanted metal of the gauntlets. It was the borrowed shine of spilled blood. The gauntlets rightfully belonged to Lia, and Lia's was a family of blue blood and great magic. Villainously, Rae hoped the sinister ensorcelled instruments of death she'd stolen would give her an unfair advantage.

The twins waited, bows curved and eyebrows arched, for Rae to fire. The moment was interrupted by the scrape of courtyard doors and a guard's voice. "The Princess Vasilisa!"

This scene had the mean girls, the also-rans, and here came the princess. All they needed was the heroine.

Princess Vasilisa entered, burdened by a dress of blue satin and a gem-encrusted tiara.

"Oh dear ," Hortensia whispered to Horatia.

Between satin and diamonds was Vasilisa's face. She had dull hair, a leaden complexion, and a blunt jaw. Many pretty women made such features work. Vasilisa wasn't one. The plain fact of the matter was, Vasilisa was plain. As a commoner that would be unremarkable, but she was a princess. Some people's charms were enhanced by elaborate clothes and hairstyles. For Vasilisa, the contrast of a rich frame made her look worse.

Vasilisa gave no sign of hearing the titters that flowed across the courtyard. She inclined her head punctiliously, manners stiff as her dress.

A woman stood on the princess's right, dressed in a tunic and breeches of dark material. She was pale as Vasilisa, with red hair pinned in a braid winding around her head. Unlike Vasilisa, she was pretty.

"A princess's maid wearing breeches?" Horatia asked once introductions were made. "How novel!"

Her tone indicated the maid had been as unwise a choice as the dress.

"This is my guard Karine," said Vasilisa in a level voice. "Are all your guards men? How uncomfortable."

Rae studied Karine with interest, while Karine regarded her suspiciously. Vasilisa would have a flame-haired and a midnight-haired guardian on either side of her throne when she became queen of her own land. She would never be Queen of Eyam, no matter how desperately she loved its king.

Horatia adjusted her grip on her bow. "One likes to feel well protected."

"Indeed. I always do," said Vasilisa.

Rae winced. The princess wasn't endearing herself to the ladies-in-waiting. Vasilisa gave the impression she thought herself above them. As a princess, this was technically true.

Since she'd used Vasilisa's entrance into the narrative for her own ends, Rae felt a vague sense of obligation. She sent a smile Vasilisa's way.

Princess Vasilisa smiled back. "Lady Rahela. I hear you tell the future?"

"Fortune telling, treason," murmured Hortensia. "She's capable of anything."

Rae didn't lose her temper. She deliberately dropped her temper, intending to pick it back up later. "As a lady-in-waiting, it would be treason to entertain another man's suit, wouldn't it? The gods told me a twin was angling to marry the prime minister. Which twin was it?"

The twins paled. She'd better let this drop before someone asked for details. Rae genuinely couldn't remember which twin.

"I don't understand the intricacies of your court," Vasilisa announced. "I thought being a lady-in-waiting was an honour?"

Fluting voices rose in a unanimous choir, assuring her it was.

Rae shrugged. "Everyone says it's an honour."

Only heroes cared about honour. Villains were allowed to be practical.

"There's no need to listen to her treacherous whining, Your Highness," interjected one of the mildly evil twins.

Vasilisa's eyes were a muddy shade between brown and grey, notable in fictional surroundings where most people's eye colour was striking. Her gaze was direct. "Explain."

"The odds are against us. One king, more than twenty ladies. Until the king chooses a queen, none of us can marry, and marriage is the purpose of a noblewoman's life. By the time the king chooses, we're considered past our prime. Being honoured by the king should raise our status, but other men wonder how precisely we were honoured by the king. We must preserve our chastity but also please the king, so there's an obvious conflict of interests. The whole set-up encourages vicious competition to the point of some – naming no names, 'cause I'm talking about myself – engaging in actual murderous conspiracies. Yet if the king asks for you, how much choice do you have?"

It wasn't a huge deal. The chances of becoming queen were better than winning the lottery, and people bought lottery tickets every day, but the set-up annoyed Rae. Calling this an honour was false as chivalry. Supposedly men were meant to save women and children first if a boat was going down. Statistically, they didn't. Promises of loyalty and sacrifice were scams. In the end, everybody saved themselves first.

Not even the ladies' skirts rustled in the profound silence. Emer's horror radiated like an open ice chest at her back. With dawning dismay, Rae realized she'd heavily implied she was putting out for the king.

She was saved by the guard intoning: "Announcing Lady Lia."

Of course, the heroine got the dramatic entrance.

Rae clapped. "Look, everybody, Lia is coming. Yay, it's Lia!"

"Are you two close?" asked Vasilisa.

"Not really, I set her up for execution last week."

"Ah," whispered the princess.

The doors opened. Lia entered, backlit by the sun.

For an instant she was only a slender silhouette against a background of soft radiance. Maybe it was the natural course of the sun's path or clouds moving across the sky. Or maybe nature was giving the heroine a narrative spotlight.

When the Pearl of the World crossed the threshold into the Court of Air and Grace, a wind clung as if it loved her. Lia's hair and skirt streamed like the banners above. Lia's plain white cotton dress with its blue trim was simpler than any other gown, but Lia's beauty was a Midas touch transforming the ordinary into treasure.

Lia's beauty fit with her world of palaces and magic. Her eyes were somehow both the blue of crystals and skies. Her rich golden locks turned the twins' hair to bleached straw by contrast. Morality was all about shading: in a kingdom of petty blond antagonists, heroines stayed gold. No touch of cosmetics profaned her face. Why would anyone with natural rosebud lips use make-up?

Rae rolled her eyes, then grinned. Lia looked exactly as Rae had imagined. It was Rae's own reaction that surprised her. The indisputable, overwhelming fact of her beauty was all that was reminiscent of Alice, but Rae missed her sister. Seeing Lia made her smile.

"Apologies for my lateness." Lia's voice melted in the air like a sweet on the tongue. "I'm unfamiliar with the haunts of fine ladies."

Because Rae hadn't invited Lia to palace gatherings, Lia was too nice to say. The twins exchanged meaningful looks that said it for her. Lia seemed even more wronged for not announcing it herself.

Immediately after Lia spoke, bugles blew and banners flew over her head. Probably a coincidence.

Hortensia glanced at the battlements. "Lady Lia, let me tell you the problem we're facing."

In the book the twins vented their spite on Rahela's stepsister. With Rahela still alive, apparently Lia got condescending kindness.

"The winner of the ladies' archery tournament is usually rewarded with the king's hand for a first dance, but of course His Majesty will open our grand ball by dancing with Princess Vasilisa. Or perhaps with you, as you will be officially invited to join the ladies-in-waiting that night." The invitation was a formality. The king had installed Lia in the tower the day he saw her. "What shall we play for instead?"

Lia cast her eyes humbly to the stone flags. "In the countryside, we didn't play for prizes. Instead, the loser pays a forfeit."

Lia hadn't looked at Rae directly, but Rae was certain Lia was aware of her presence.

Hortensia patted Lia's arm, a big-sister move that looked strange since Hortensia was wearing a magic gauntlet. Her expression turned sugary. Rae felt diabetic. "Charming notion. What if the loser must depart the palace?"

If Rae got exiled from the palace, she was doomed.

Rae shrugged. "Why not?"

"As the king's former favourite, Lady Rahela, may I ask you to lead the way?"

"Sure thing, Lady Hortensia."

Rows of women watched as Rae swept forward, wearing the deepest V-for-viper neckline in the courtyard. Each lady-in-waiting wore a smug smile to match her pastel gown. A brunette in violet looked similar to a friend who had once betrayed her. Rae put an extra swagger in her step.

Rae halted, some distance away from the position Hortensia had indicated.

"You're too far away from the target."

"Oh, I don't mind."

"Please, I wouldn't wish for anyone to say the contest was unfair."

Rae pointed to the flagstone ahead. "Just checking. You want me to stand here?"

Hortensia beamed. "Precisely."

"Right on the null stone which would cancel out the enchantment on my gauntlets? Hmm. No."

The tittering died away. The banners sagged.

The twins' plan was foiled, but Rae still had to shoot. Her gauntlets couldn't do all the work. Her chest expanded when drawing her bow. Given her current chest situation, any expansion was alarming. Rae worried she might give herself an unplanned piercing.

As she raised the bow, power raced through her as power had changed the air when she made the blood oath. What transformed now was Rae's body, muscles snapping into position, arms given new might. It wasn't her own strength, but after years of helplessness it was an undeniable thrill. The air tasted clean. Her sight was clear. She was strong.

Rae fired.

Bull's-eye.

Lady Rahela surveyed the disappointed ladies with a smirk. "Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who can make her enemy crawl?"

Once upon a time nobody dared cross her, tease her sister, or disrupt her team. After years of helplessness, the bitch was back.

Rae nodded in Horatia's direction. Only a few lucky ladies were equipped with enchanted gauntlets. Horatia wore lace gloves.

"Come for the queen bee, you best not miss," Rae advised the younger twin. "You can't beat me. Can you beat your sister?"

"Horatia, here!" With a sniff, Lady Hortensia stripped the gauntlets off her own arms. "Borrow these, my dear."

Astonishment followed by joy swept Horatia's colourless face, making her radiantly pretty for an instant. She was visibly determined not to be the one exiled. Her gauntleted hands clenched as she drew her bow, focusing on her target.

" Horatia ," wailed her sister's voice, sending a breath of unease down Rae's spine.

Horatia turned with an irritated air. "I am otherwise engaged, my dear. Why do you call me?"

Hortensia was staring at the battlements, her face the colour of frozen milk.

She said slowly, "I didn't call you."

High above, a guard's shadow wavered on the wall, then fell. His descent was a slow tumble, horror making time stretch unfathomably long. When the body landed, it struck an archery butt. The wooden edge stoved the guard's skull in. The target toppled onto its side, a fresh bloodstain splashed vivid across the rings. Rae's arrow was still buried deep in the bull's-eye.

The guard hadn't died from the fall. His heart had been clawed out.

Beyond the wall lay the dread ravine.

His Majesty's ladies-in-waiting lifted their eyes to the battlements, and saw the palace guards overwhelmed by a rising tide of the hungry dead.