A Witch's Word

THE WEDDING PARTY

Veilless and disheartened, Edith hadn’t managed to retain all the information of the countless lords and ladies of the court she had encountered. Despite smiling through the endless pleasantries, she noticed her husband handing out the gons to his greedy council. The rich were getting richer and the plump hypocrisy of it all made her vision of her ‘new home’ seem like a fat pus-filled boil that needed to be lanced. Theatrically, Cadmus offered her his hand, smiling as if this were the best day of his life, acting for his audience and burying the loathing he must have for her, and she most certainly had for him.

Leading her to the dining hall, Cadmus looked over at his new wife apprehensively. He knew he had spoken to her harshly. Embarrassed, he acknowledged that her act of kindness had improved their public image in a way that the heir to the country had never considered to be important before. As they passed the guards, he considered how many of them would have lived in the streets he ignored, joined the ranks and engaged in an everyday battle with death to escape a hunger that was as persistent as a shadow. He had been jealous of her attentiveness to strangers compared to his own indifference to his subjects, so he lashed out in temper rather than admit he was grateful.

The popping of meat on the spits could be heard from the banquet hall above as they climbed the steps cautiously. Cadmus had always wondered if it shared the same sound as rain. He had never ventured to the Lycan kingdom, so had never heard the droplets of water hitting the ground. Reid has said it was similar, but that rain was flavourless. All Cadmus knew of was the struggles of heat and the hollowness of a vengeful land. The thunder of the volcano they built their empire around rumbled like a dragon’s yawn, peaceful, for now. Noticing Edith’s alertness, he followed the pattern of her eyeline, all the details he had become accustomed to in the castle were strikingly refreshed when experiencing it through the wonder of his bride.

The glossy walls had a hue of royal purple in their colouring, created by the flames of the dragon that had turned the stone to molten liquid from the inside of the lava-filled temple. Like a black mirror the walls gleamed, until a light from a nearby lantern danced in its reflection. Reaching out, Edith brushed her hand on the structure.

“It’s warm,” she observed to herself.

Desperate to make amends before the feast, he turned her towards him.

“All heat comes from Novtex’s temple. The volcano next to us. We use it to cook our food, light our way and warm our bodies. It is the blood that runs through every vein of this city, reaching affluent and poor alike,” he explained, proudly.

“How ironic, when most of your people are more in need of cool water rather than burning devotion.” She countered but criticised no more as she walked on.

Turning the corner from the entrance to the dining hall, Cadmus felt his wife freeze in the doorway. Assuming her confidence had finally run its course, he leaned in to offer her kind words, but it wasn’t his wedding party she was looking at, but a young boy running on the stone disk to keep the meat turning. Quickly, her eyes shifted to the lava tunnel. It was unique to their empire that all the heat poured as liquid into the fireplaces. He watched as she brushed the sweat from her brow. Occasionally, the boy jutted away from the fire awkwardly as the meat spat at him with succulent spite. Only the crease in the corner of her eye indicated the revulsion she felt at such a barbaric sight. The cruel irony was that the most undernourished child she had ever seen was the one who fed the portly lords.

Directing her towards his father, King Nokon, the overly attentive father-in-law embraced her as he would a second daughter, oblivious to her distain for his realm.

“My dearest daughter-in-law, allow me to lead you to your seat. You must be famished after your first dragon ride and peace-making with the population. Such a star of diplomacy we have before us. Maybe you can end the dispute between the Lycans and Werewolves next.” Sarcastically, King Nokon laughed at his own witty comment, causing his guests to follow him in the hilarity.

“My magic helps to guard werewolf royalty, including Madoc’s older brothers, my emperor, so I feel I have done my part with that conflict…for now,” Edith laughed with equal merriment but was pleased to note the surprise on the king’s face.

Meats were piled high on each table: pork, rabbit, lamb, poultry, stuffed squirrels, chunks of mixed meats dangling from skewers, and bowls of warm bread. As soon as the royal ensemble began to eat, so did all the guests. Gluttony was the ruler here as the guests used their picking knives to pluck the hunks of carcass on to their plates. Having read the rules on etiquette in Novtexo culture, a gift from her ever-scheming mother years before an engagement was considered possible, Edith knew that it was impolite to eat all the food that was put on the plates. Anything that was left over was given to the poor, but from what she could deduce from her observation, this only caused people to put double the amount of food they needed on their plates. At the top table, both father and son were too consumed enjoying their meals to attempt the start of another conversation. Horrifyingly, King Nokon would haphazardly throw food out of the window, some of which went through unhindered, but most of it landed on the floor. For the quantities that did go through the gaps, the dragons snatched the offering from the sky. All but Dex, who looked on disgustedly. There was humour to be found in the fact that the most humanity that Edith had found in the realm so far had come from a deadly mythical beast. Diets were so different in her new home, and Edith wondered if it was too soon to ask her sister to send some home comforts.

Interrupting her longing for fruits and vegetables, Reid approached the dais, smiling brightly, at his best friend and new princess. Pouring wine into her goblet, he raised his own and celebrated the union between the greatest minds in all the lands. Edith noticed that more than half the guests didn’t drink to the compliment. Acrobats spun into the room, providing ample entertainment for the bloated courtiers, as the servants emptied all the food left over into huge buckets.

“I’m going to look through the window over there, my prince,” Edith smiled, performing to the best of her ability, so that the dissent of those who objected to her marriage would only see utter devotion from her.

She missed the stain-glassed windows of her home. These were elaborately shaped holes. Purposefully made that was so that the breath of the dragons could be heard as they soared by, the same breath that helped to heat the room to an oppressive temperature. There was no relief to be found from the gap. Like everything else, the heat was tyrannically ubiquitous. Sipping her wine, Edith noticed the queues of mothers and children lining up against the castle walls. The guards carried the buckets of leftovers from the tables she had seen the lords and ladies gorge themselves on and threw them into a trough where a kitchen maid waited with a ladle. Shamelessly, the woman sneered at the first emancipated child who held out their cupped hands, before splashing the food into his palms. The system continued with the same unfeeling degradation. Tracking the first child back to the exit, Edith watched as he carefully licked his palms, his fingers, the web between each digit and finally beneath his dirty nails. For a child so young, not a morsel was dropped or wasted. It wasn’t charity that was provided it was subjugating humiliation, and the worst thing of all was that the people were too hungry to protest against it. Waves of anger rippled over her body, warning her of a potential magical outburst that she hadn’t experienced since she was a child. She watched her husband throw a bread roll at Reid, ignorant of the value it had. Everything in her wanted to punish them all. She could make them choke on their own greed, make the wine in their bladders bubble till they pissed fire, she could make their food harden in their stomachs until they cried in agony like half their population were doing from hunger.

Stepping closer to the dais, she allowed the hatred to swirl in her eyes and just as she was about to hear the deserved spluttering of selfishness, she was pulled back by an unexpected force.

“Oh dear, I seemed to have torn your wedding dress.” A woman smirked at Edith, while her foot remained on the train of her symbolic prisoner’s uniform.

The court stilled, and the focus was all directed towards Edith and this woman. It was obvious that jealousy was the motivation behind her actions, but this was a display of her power and, unfortunately, Edith’s temper was brimming with magical chaos. Smiling, she tilted her head to the side and played the game set before her. After all, what a better way to show her imitation of benevolence.

“How clumsy of you. Do you often spoil things that aren’t yours?” Edith announced loudly enough for the crowd to hear, obvious enough for them to know she could identify the mistress of her husband.

She noticed Cadmus, in the background, rising to intervene, but was surprised to see the king push him back into his seat.

“Never mind, luckily I know exactly how to fix your…mistake’. Edith smiled, mustering all the superiority her mother had spent years refining in her. “Refill my cup, and we shall say no more about it.”

The woman stared with a hatred that turned the air bitter. Staring at the cup that had been slowly extended towards her. Edith looked down at the dress that was torn and jagged, she visualised stitching back together, and what she saw in her mind appeared on her garment. When she stared down the woman once more, she knew her eyes were purple, and she knew the fear she had instilled in the dragon rider.

“Refill my cup and my husband’s, your prince and princess demand it.” Reluctantly, Lizzip snatched it from her hand, looking up at the dais, only to see Cadmus nod, reinforcing his wife’s orders.

King Nokon gestured to the musicians who began to play their song from the start. Reaching for her husband’s hand, Edith took her seat next to the empire’s elite. Caution stalled her temper. She was supposed to be acting as an untalented witch, but the magic she had displayed so far had been minor compared to all she could do, plus it wasn't her fault if the dragon riders underestimated her. They only needed to look at their land to know the damage a witch could really achieve. The expression on the courtiers’ faces was one of fear. Good, she thought to herself. Let them fear me, because my work has just begun.