'Please, please, call me Dio!' Dionysus is waving a hand as he talks to Sybella, arm in arm. He says "Dio" loudly and pronounced 'dye-o'. Behind him are his group of friends, all as tipsy and giggling as he is. Despite the fact there's five of them, they might as well be clones of one another. There's nothing individual about them.
Behind them is Quill and me. It's saying a lot when I trust Quill more than Dio, but at least he doesn't flirt with everything that breathes.
On cue, Dio pulls a strand of hair behind Sybella's ear. 'Come, my little maenad, won't you stay with me tonight?'
Quill looks revolted.
'You're going to have to step up your game,' I sigh. 'She's a romantic at heart.'
Well, she likes reading erotica. Would that be romantic or lustful...?
'I don't know what you're talking about,' Quill says, turning away as we walk.
'Of course not,' I say, knowing fully that I'm the Queen of Denial, and he can't possibly hope to pull one over on me.
With Quill avoiding my probing, I take a greater interest in my surroundings. The palace lies ahead of us, built into the tall cliffs that surround the court. Spiralling towers form a pentagon, and each spiral becomes a tree at its very tip. The trees are living, evident by the fact all of them are currently in bloom, and the palace is shaded in bright pink blossoms, drifting occasionally to the floor like snow. The paths are littered with pink as we step down the marble walkway. The gates are made of willow, swooping low and providing some shade as we pass down the path. Guards in green uniforms greet us.
Dio steps forward, along with Quill. The two glare at one another, before both trying to use their positions to sway the guards.
'The Queen sent me on an important assignment,' Quill says, straightening himself up.
'It's me,' Dio says, giving the guard a friendly nudge. 'Look who I found.'
'Look who I've brought back,' Quill says, through gritted teeth.
I cough. So far, I've been stood at the back of the group, but now the guards peer around to see me.
'Great Gods,' whispers one. 'She's the image of our Demeter.'
As Dio and Quill halt, I step forwards and introduce myself.
'My name is Nerissa. I believe my mother asked to meet me?'
We are ushered through a large square courtyard of sculpted gardens and terraces. Denizens of Spring are scattered throughout, either sat at tables talking or strolling among the trimmed hedges. The guards march through, until we reach a wide staircase. At the bottom step, the guard hovers, uncertain.
'She's still in court this morning, my lady,' the closest guard explains. He gestures to the top of the steps, where I assume the court lies beyond. The group has fallen to the back of me, and now I'm leading the way, with Quill and Dio at my heels. 'Would you prefer to wait for it to finish? We can fetch you whatever you need. Food, tea, wine...'
My stomach grumbles at the prospect of food, but I don't want my mother to approach on her terms. Right now, I have an advantage I'd like to use.
'That's perfectly alright,' I say, mustering my firmest voice. 'I'd like to go to court. I will wait quietly and watch the proceedings.'
Let us see how my mother runs her court.
'I will take some wine, Theoval,' Dio says, casting the guard a grin.
'It's morning,' I murmur, glancing at the sun. 'Isn't it?'
I aim the last question at Quill, who nods.
'Any time after twelve is good for me,' Dio says, nodding in approval as one of the guards leaves to fetch him wine.
'...it's always a time after twelve,' Sybella says.
Dio gives her a long, long stare. 'That is, my maenad, the whole point.'
'Are you ready?' Quill gives a small clear of his throat.
'Yes,' Sybella and I say in unison, both glaring at Dio.
The guards lead us up the steps in silence. I have a vague feeling of the entire courtyard, mid whisper, watching us as we go.
Quill gives me a small, excited smile. 'Making history,' he says.
I just hope it's the good kind.
The large doors creak open, and I wait for light to burst through. It doesn't; if anything, darkness waits beyond. Until now, everything has had an open sky; this looks to be going indoors. We're at the highest point in the room; the rows of seats around the edges, like an amphitheater, pitch inwards, so that the focus is at the centre.
But as I step through, head of the entourage and flanked by Sybella, Quill and Dio, I realise I've made an easy mistake. The court isn't indoors, but it is covered. We are underneath the leaves of the largest tree I've ever imagined.
The roots form the floor, spreading out in a circle to form the court room.
The throne is there, a seat made of the trunk of the tree. And sat upon it is a woman.
By my estimation, she's only small. She sits with a stately poise, a stillness of an otherworldly statue, and the regal tilt of a queen. Her eyes are large, green, intelligent; they flicker up, towards the disturbance, and her face is cunning. An elfin face— pinched jaw, small nose, arched eyebrows— hides a vicious and sour creature.
I nearly stagger. It's like looking at a mirror, except my eyes are blue, and not nearly as old and sharp. Our hair tumbles down our shoulders and falls across our backs in the same way, but the way she styles it makes me feel like a little girl. Hers is pinned and puffed and curled— mine's ragged, limp and tangled.
I draw myself higher. Appearances are deceiving— and mine's meant to be.
I'm not here to be a hero.
I'm here to play the damsel that needs advice.
So I relax my frown, I let go of my own proud jawline, the sour anger around my mouth. Instead, I gaze around in awe, and it's only half acting. The room is filled with people, all seated on the tiered benches in green robes, and all staring at us.
'Lady Nerissa, of Thesmophoria,' the guard stutters, bowing us forward.
Thesmophoria? I want to ask, but there's a more pressing problem: I don't know what to do from here. Luckily, there's always Quill to keep up my act. I turn to him, eyes wide, and take his arm for support.
'What now?' I whisper to him.
I see him swallow, as nervous as me. Together, we step down towards the centre, the queen eyeing us every step. I realise there's a closer bench of people, all surrounding one man, who is currently chained.
As we reach the last step, the queen rises. Caution flares in her eyes, and for a second I wonder if she's as worried about meeting me as I am her.
'Daughter,' she whispers. She steps across the floor until she's only a foot away.
I push the bitter image of my father conjured at her words. My father, given up his gambling, his alcohol. For me. For what I would have wanted.
'Mother?' I say back, forcing a quiver into my lifeless tone.
She reaches out and pulls me into an embrace.
I don't see anything but her arms, her darkness and the blurred flowers of her dress. The smell of wood and lavender is powerful, dizzying.
She lets go.
I can't read the emotion in her eyes.
I make myself to take a deep breath, to look shaken. 'My Queen.'
'Nerissa,' the queen says, 'Please call me Mother. Everyone else in this room calls me by my birth name, Cerelia. But to most people beyond these walls, I'm known as Demeter. Demeter means the ruling goddess of the harvest, agriculture and divine order.'
I hold back a quip about having three names and being selfish, and try to digest what she's told me. So, Demeter is a generic name. My mother's name is Cerelia.
I wish Mercer here so that he could be more clueless than I am.
'And these are my close advisers,' Cerelia says, gesturing to the people surrounding us.
'Despoina,' Cerelia points to a tall brunette with athletic limbs. 'Plutus, who bears the cornucopia. And lastly, Philomelus.'
Cerelia doesn't say anything further about Philomelus, and Plutus stands and gives a jovial nod. Like Despoina, he has brown hair and a strong, muscular body. Philomelus, in comparison, is lithe and dark, his hair almost black, and his skin a light brown.
'Your siblings,' Cerelia finishes.
The shock on my face isn't faked. 'I have other siblings?'
Other than Nate?
'Arion is missing, too,' the girl— Despoina— says kindly, as if another sibling is what will calm me down. 'Although he doesn't take human form.'
I open my mouth to ask what form he does take.
'There will be plenty of time for family reunion later,' Cerelia says, and cold steel lies behind her gentle smile. 'We cannot keep our prisoner waiting longer.'
Turning to us, she says, 'You came just in time. We were about to hear his defence. How about you all take a seat? The row there is free.'
I'm still staring at the three people announced as my relatives when Sybella steers me gently to the bench. Shoulder to shoulder with Quill and Sybella, I sit between them, as small as I can make myself. Cerelia returns to the throne, and she curls back onto it, crossing an ankle over the other and reclining with familiarity.
From her right, Despoina calls, 'You may continue.'
Her eyes are locked on the prisoner. I wrench my gaze away from my sister— I have a sister?— when the man kneeling before Cerelia speaks.
After his pleas die down, Cerelia looks slowly to him. 'What do you think, Nerissa? What punishment should this man receive?'
Punishment? My gut churns. I hadn't expected Cerelia to pick me out, single me out, like a challenge. My brain has been too busy dissecting my different siblings to pay much attention to the man's story. My brow furrows as I pretend to ponder the decision.
The man's case regards his young son. The man had tried to sneak both him and his son across Spring's borders, and into another Court.
I turn to the man. 'What was your reason for trying to leave Spring?'
He looks at me incredulously. 'T-that is, because of you, my l-lady.'
I see his Adam's apple move as he swallows, nervous about his response. He hunches over, waiting for a reprimand...or a beating. I can't tell which.
'Because of me?' I repeat, waving a hand to indicate my confusion. The onlookers glance around, unwilling to interrupt unless the Queen Demeter does. But she watches me with sheer interest, leaning forward, chin propped upon an elegant hand.
He licks his lips to wet them. His whole body has gone rigid. 'B-because they say the Spring Princess has returned, and the Gods don't want her to break the curse.'
'But...what does that have to do with leaving Spring?' My return is the same no matter where he goes.
'They say...' he looks up at the tree, and I see him mouth a prayer. 'They say war is coming. And with the conscription...'
It's an effort not to swing round and look at Cerelia's reaction. A conscription? To an army?
But here I can't be smart Nerissa. I can't even be a risk of smart. I have to act like a loyal puppy, gleaning the information the Queen Demeter would want me to. So, I push away asking him where this army is, and who the war would be against.
I set my mouth into a grim line. 'War? And you wanted to leave?'
'Yes,' the man says, hope flaring in his eyes. He speaks more loudly, hoping to convince one of the nearby listeners. 'Olympia will not get involved as they are not threatened by this yet. It's the safest place for my son.'
'So why did you want to leave?' I ask again. My cold tone gets the man anxious once more, but I don't blink. I don't waver. If my mother wants me to be ruthless, then let her see me a puppet.
'Be...because I have to raise...raise him,' he says.
'Do you?' I say, looking down upon him. 'My mother gave me away as a baby...for the good of her people. Your Queen. Who you should be loyal to.'
I fold my arms, my stare empty and devoid of sympathy. Inside, I want to vomit. The words that flow cruelly from my mouth sting as I speak them, cursing me a little more each time I say them.
'Your loyalty is to Spring, your children dedicated to Spring. Your punishment should be fitting of a betrayal.'
Yes— I want to vomit. Across the floor. As he's being dragged backwards.
The Queen Demeter claps. 'That's definitely my daughter.'
So— that's who she wants. Not a simpering, stupid Nerissa.
She wants one like her.
Aside, she nods to the others. 'Give him a reminder that he's conscripted into the Spring Army whether he has the legs to flee on or not. We can't have exceptions.'
Such an ominous statement is met with nods and approving smiles.
I steady my breathing. There's no way the man would have escaped, even if I'd have begged for his release. Even so, he glares at me as they haul him to his feet, guards flanking him on either side. It's a glare I'll remember for a long, long time.
If I live that long.
After the man has been dragged away, the Queen Demeter takes a seat on her throne again, casting me a graceful smile. Strangely, the court still seems to be in session. I just don't know who is on trial yet.
But as the Queen smiles even harder, and gestures for me to approach, I have an inkling who it might be.
'My lovely daughter,' Cerelia calls. 'Come closer. Take a seat in the middle. I'm sure you have a tale to tell.'
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A/N: this chapter has taken so long to write! I have to apologize, YET AGAIN!
Do you find January a deplorable month? I find it so difficult to feel HAPPY in January, and I know it's a low point for a lot of people. Writing definitely took a hit as I hit a bit of a slump these last few weeks. Thank you for your patience and thank Hadrian it's February!
Sorry for lack of Hadrian in this chapter, but it's important! Do you like it? What do you think of Spring and Demeter/Cerelia?
Let me know!
Larissa
xxx