Page 9 of The Court of Venus

“Perhaps he won’t come tonight.” She rolled over onto her stomach, glancing back over her shoulder. “You’re looking at me strangely, Bess. Have you forgotten? I said to stay with the witch and watch her closely.”

I bowed my head in the half-hearted way I saw Bess do. “I only thought that after I was done with her, I should return to you.”

Cecily smiled. “Sweet thing. What was she like?”

“Quiet.”

“Joan said Roland was taken with her,” she said, scowling. “Didn’t you?” She shot a look at an older lady-in-waiting with straw-colored hair and thin, chapped lips.

Joan nodded, beckoned forward by the queen. “As soon as he saw her, he took her from the great hall and into his chambers. I saw it. They were there for the entire banquet, almost an hour.”

“Do you think they’re lovers?” asked another girl from atop the sheets, lying by Cecily’s foot and stroking her ankle.

A line creased Cecily’s forehead. “Roland said they knew each other as children. He said she always followed him about.”

“What else did he tell you?” Joan asked.

“That she’s not to be trusted.” She spat this out, then lowered her voice. “He said she’ll lie to anyone, cheat anyone. She can fill you with anger, enough rage to kill. Or she can fill you with such sadness you’ll drown yourself.” She smiled wickedly with all of her small, white teeth. “And she can take on any form, even as small as a flea. She’ll suck your blood and jump from scalp to scalp, so you can’t see her while she spies.”

I was curious if she knew of my weaknesses, too. Of daylight, which made my body sluggish, more resistant to my magic. Of new Moon, the most dreaded time of the month, when my powers drained away entirely. I couldn’t transform, minds darkened to me. Even my eyes turned all black, my pupils blown wide. On those nights, I curled up in my bedchamber and didn’t emerge, the vulnerability almost too much to bear.

As Bess, I shook a little. “I’ve never seen one like her before.”

“Her planet’s magic is extremely rare. When I asked my father more about her, he said he couldn’t be sure about her abilities.” Cecily turned to the window. “He’d only read a fable about a Moonborn. That magician lived hundreds of years ago. He had white hair like hers, pale eyes like hers, and he drove the king he served to madness.” She wrapped a sheet around her chest and sat up. “My father says it’s a disgrace, to have so many magicians here for my coronation. Now quick, hand me another cloth. I want to wash beneath my arms before he arrives.”

The ladies fluttered around her, brushing out Cecily’s tangles with their fingers. “Joan heard from Kitty that he was with Agnes Bryer,” one of the maids reported. Roland, of course, drawn back into the conversation. I huffed under my breath.

Envy writhed within Cecily. “No. Agnes would have said.”

Joan rested her hands in her lap, clearly debating whether to contradict Cecily. “Well, she was loudly boasting of his—” A blush crept up her neck. “—talents. I heard her. Roland took her to the king’s tennis court. She said it only took minutes with his fingers, and that by the end of it, her gown was stained with grass.”

I folded one of Cecily’s linens into a square, shook it out, then folded it again, listening intently.

“And then,” Joan continued, hushed. “They played a match. Naked.” Suddenly she jumped, clutching her arm. “Ow!”

Cecily had pinched her. “Agnes must tell the same story three times without varying details before I believe her.”

The maids laughed under their hands. As soon as Joan laid cushions from the bed onto the floor and dealt out cards, a page knocked on the door. He stuck his head inside and locked eyes with the queen, then disappeared as quickly as he came. A warning: the king was coming. Any moment now. The young queen’s jaw twitched with determination—she steadied herself, surely, for what was to come—as she continued to shuffle cards. When I touched her mind, there was no longer envy.

She was gathering courage.

We waited. No one paid any attention to the cards we threw on the ground. Several maids paged through their Books of Hours—prayer books of hymns and poetry—whispering to Venus in the queen’s name, asking for grace and beauty for Her Majesty. Our anxious gazes flicked to the door and away. Just as before, I could hear Roland’s footsteps long before he arrived. He also stuck his head inside the door, but he didn’t bother knocking.

Pink hair slanted across his eyes as he whispered, “Less than a minute,” and then he, too, was gone. The women bit their lips watching him, blinking as if they’d found themselves in sudden, too-bright daylight.

Joan gathered the cards and blew out every trembling candle besides one. We stood in a line by the door, fixing our fashionable crescent hoods over our hair, while Cecily smoothed down the wrinkles of her shift. The knock arrived again, a gentle one-two tap.

“Come in!” Joan called.

Roland returned, now pale and slightly withdrawn, eyes distant. He was using magic, and it was draining him quickly. It did not take long to find the source of his effort.

The smell arrived first, of dead things left too long in the sun. The king came next, his bones creaking as he walked, his face as thin and twisted as his limbs. Then, it was as if a curtain fell over his face: his wrinkles smoothed over, the sparse patches of hair filled out, his yellowed teeth shone like fresh snow. He appeared formidable with ermine fur draped over his shoulders, no longer diminished. A sweet scent of persimmons and citrus settled over the rot.

Roland’s smile was strained. He ignored the ladies’ hopeful glances, his focus solely on the king staggering up to the queen’s four-poster bed. When the king stumbled, he hurried over to help him up. Cecily played her part well. She threw her arms around the king and kissed his cheek, whispering in his ear and giggling, pulling his ring-stacked fingers across her body.

I imagined such hands on me and shuddered, thinking perhaps this girl had more strength than all of us here combined. Maybe Roland’s magic aiding the king’s appearance was for her. An act of mercy, of kindness.

All of Cecily’s ladies knew their cue. They filtered out of the bedchamber and settled by the fire, followed by Roland.