A Witch's Word

THE LOVE OF LIZZIP

The evening was warmer than usual, and a sticky sweat had left a sheen on Cadmus’ body. Ordinarily, he would take Dex and glide through the clouds, enjoying the significant drop in temperature, but his father was in such a foul temper that he decided it would be best to stay in his room that evening, in case his father’s displeasure should lead him to Edith’s chambers.

When the crowd had started to sing their anthem, Cadmus had instantly recognised it. Not because it had been bellowed across the battlefields with pride, but rather from the times that his father had slurred it after being unable to find the hope he needed at the bottom of the bottles he’d consumed. His father had been shamed by the out pour of love for Edith today, but Cadmus struggled to determine how it was worse than butchering the lyrics of loyalty by submerging them in red wine and wails.

A gentle click distracted him as he breathed in the familiar scent that dispelled his doubts about his father’s temperament. Lizzip walked into his room as she had done many times before, but not since he had made his vows to his wife. Draped in silk, she grinned as she sat on the edge of his bed, eyebrow raised with the expression of conspiracy. He had never noticed how devious she appeared when wearing her bemused expression before, but he remarked to himself how the contour of cruelty corrupted her beauty.

“That was a s**t show!” She laughed, pitching her tone an octave higher than her natural tenor.

Cadmus turned, looking in the mirror as he wiped the stress away from his face with a much-appreciated cool cloth. In the mirror, he saw how Lizzip exposed her bare shoulder, posing as if it were casual.

“Had she always been so contrived?” he thought to himself.

“Her dress looked as if it had come from your great-grandmother’s crypt.” She continued, detailing the gaudiness of Edith’s outfit.

Although the cloth had helped to cool him, the sudden drop in temperature chilled him from within. A cold seething anger was heavy in his stomach as he faked disinterest, while listening closely to her glee.

“You seemed to have studied her intently,” Cadmus commented, nonchalantly.

“In actual fact, it came from my great, great-grandmother’s crypt. The dress is considered so ugly that my family wouldn’t have burned her in it, in case she was caught dead in the dress by onlookers and the antiquity of the robes haunted us all.”

It was such a childish tactic, and one that has clearly backfired. Edith had looked like the formidable queens of the past, promising a return to traditional values and national identity. Interestingly, Lizzip’s father had been critical about how Edith had subtly influenced the crowd and supported her own political ambitions by reminding them of previous, prevailing princesses. Clearly, Lizzip had acted alone. It was the typical childish vengeance he would expect from her.

He continued to watch her in the mirror, as she shrugged off her dressing gown completely. She twisted on his bed, experimenting with various alluring positions, but each of them was more distasteful than the last. Cadmus found her performance unappealing. Truthfully, he measured her against Edith’s cool cordiality and found Lizzip the more chilling option of them both. Discarding the cloth back into the basin, Cadmus dried his hands thoroughly, delaying the inevitable conversation.

“I no longer wish to see you like this, Lizzip. I find myself conflicted. You were my youth, and it seems marriage has forced me to look to the future. You are my courtier, and like others you are no longer permitted to visit me this way. We shall meet in public only. My wife has gained immeasurable popularity, and I will not be the antagonist in her narrative. I advise that you should not be either.”

Lizzip’s astonishment was fleeting before she switched to incredible fury. Her finger shook as she pointed it at her prince, her lover and her betrayer.

“You will one day see the depth of your mistake, Prince Cadmus. When you do, I cannot promise that I will be in a forgiving mood. Change your mind now or forever be enslaved to your witch!”

Silence.

“Very well.” She replied, with a stoicism that Cadmus would never have associated her with.

Clasping her gown, she allowed it to be trailed behind her, making no effort to cover herself. She would not let his decision make her feel ashamed. It was he who should feel the awkwardness of this situation. She left. The candles flickering with her exit.

Cadmus lay on his bed, staring at the fresco on the ceiling. He had been aware of Edith’s work in the town. Her determination to help his people was something he and Reid had monitored closely. Her friendship with the servant boy was ingenious, because his father would never think to look for her supporters from such a lowly place. Cadmus had noticed everything about her. Although he couldn’t pinpoint exactly when his interest had assimilated affection, he knew that watching his wife dressed in hideous clothes yet command the love of his people, who had been indifferent to royalty as of late, was the day he respected his wife. The day he yearned for his wife to respect him in return. Next month, he would have the opportunity to entice her to his bed chamber once more, and it was this thought that had him dreaming of how to be a better man for her.

Lizzip had been sat at her father’s desk for hours. Continuously repeating the words and deeds that had passed between herself and the prince.

“You must have done something wrong. Demanded too much, perhaps.” Her father continued to admonish her. “Maybe you displeased him. Left him dissatisfied?” Lizzip rolled her eyes with tedium.

“This is not the reason, father. He has affection for that witch. It was obvious on the balcony today when he kissed her hesitantly, not apathetically, when he held her hand during his father’s berating. He is protective of her, and the dress only made him more sympathetic, just as I told you it would, even if you did pretend it was a manipulation for the crowd on her part—it won’t take long for the truth to be found out. He is not cruel. His reputation is not a true likeness of him, father. We need to press on Nokon’s hatred of her now. That is the only play we have left.” Lizzip finally stood up, annoyed at being blamed for her family’s short-sightedness. “Let me have free rein, father, so that I may change our fortune.” She implored.

When there is little to lose, the risky decisions are easier to make. Lizzip’s father knew this better than most. Begrudgingly, he nodded. Hoping his daughter’s vindictiveness would turn the tide in their favour.