Invidia

Eyfira's mask is tossed carelessly to the soil. The diamond hair clip I bought her has been thrown away with them. She's lying in the grass, her thighs wrapped around Hytur's waist, fingers clawing into his hair. Dirt smears her gown. His black and golden jacket is half off. She's kissing him, gasping out his name as his lips close over hers.

I thought I had her heart, but she's kissing him.

I am intoxicated with a strange sort of fume. An emotion somewhere between anger and disgust. Then only anger. A scream stirs and boils in the pit of my stomach. The fumes become smoke, eating holes into my windpipe. Combusting into flames, melding my aching, bleeding heartbreak into something else. Melting it down into magma, and solidifying into hard obsidian.

She's kissing him, her body stiffening in horror when she finally sees me holding my camera up.

"Raiju, no!" she cries.

Click.

Hytur pales when the flash of the shutter hits his face. He shoves Eyfira away from him. He kicks up a spray of dirt as he rolls into the grass, fumbling to fix his jacket, scrambling to his feet, and making a break for it through the woods.

"Hytur!" Eyfira screams after him. "Hytur, where are you -"

She's a mess. Grime smudged all over her face. Disheveled dark purple gown, the formerly star-like fabric now dull and without the slightest bit of luster. Unkempt, stringy auburn hair. Whimpering and blubbering like an infant as she tries to cover her shameful state.

This isn't the princess I know. The friend I know. My friend gave herself up to a tyrant to preserve her kingdom. She would never jeopardize it. But this girl would. My friend loved Khaides enough to bring out the man from a monster. But this girl would cast that all aside in a bout of lust and petty infatuation. I used to worship her. Now she repulses me.

"Raiju, please," she begs. "Raiju, wait. I can explain. I promise I can explain." I pick up the hair clip and her mask, sliding them into my pockets. Then I grab her arm and push her back towards the menagerie. I slam her against the glass, my teeth bared. Rage crackles through me like electricity. Every hair on the back of my neck seems to prickle.

"Are you a fool?" I snarl at her.

"Raiju -"

"Are you a fool?"

"It was an accident!" she yells at me, desperately trying to wriggle away. I laugh harshly. Incredulously. I wrench her arm further back, pressing her harder into the glass, and she whimpers in pain. Inside its enclosure, the white panther growls at her.

"I'm not a moron, Eyfira," I hiss into her ear. "Your wedding ring is still on your finger. Khaides sat right beside you at the ball. You were whispering and joking with him only a few minutes ago. You knew what you were doing. You ran away from the damn palace and hid in the damn courtyard, for the Monarch's sake." My tone becomes mocking. Scathing. "But sure. I suppose poor little you just happened to forget that you had a husband and kissed another man behind his back."

She's speechless. I can see the gears turning in her head as she frantically tries to think of an excuse. But there are none. I snatch her elbow and continue to drag her towards the drawbridge.

"W-what are you doing?" Eyfira asks hoarsely. I glare at her from over my shoulder. Tears trickle down her face. There's a twinge of pity in my chest. Then it fades. I hoist her away from the glass and keep pushing her forward.

"This is for your own good." My gaze hardens. "For Seosha's good."

"Answer me!" Eyfira seethes, digging her heels into the grass and scratching wildly at my sleeves.

"I'm telling the Empress," I reply.

"You wouldn't," Eyfira rasps.

"Oh, yes I would."

"You're going to get me killed," she spits. "And to think I believed you were my friend." The last of my composure snaps. I wheel on her. Eyfira flinches.

"No, you're going to get yourself killed," I say, the fire in my stomach barely restrained.

"If Khaides discovered you before I did, you'd be six feet under. Hell, every man, woman, and child in Seosha would be butchered on an altar thanks to you. He only favors you as long as you stroke his ego. You're a trophy to him. He doesn't care about you. He's not your friend." I pull her closer by her pearl necklace until we're nearly nose to nose.

"Your darling Magistrate fled from that willow without a moment's hesitation and left you in the dust. You're aware of his court history. The framing. The blackmail. The double-crossing. He doesn't care about you! He's not your friend!" The necklace snaps. The pearls spill onto the ground. I crush them underneath my cane. My words shatter.

"But I care! I'll always care. Even though I wish I didn't. Because - because I'm -" I take a deep breath. Then it steadies. Sharpens. "Because I was your friend, you ignorant, witless fool." My hold loosens, allowing Eyfira's elbow to slip out of my hand. Then I walk away, leaving her alone in the dark forest by herself.

"You're right about Khaides," Eyfira blurts out.

I stop in my tracks.

"He does scare me," she admits. "He scares me. Not just sometimes. All of the time. I lied to you. I lied to myself."

I glance briefly at her.

"I claimed it wasn't that bad. I convinced myself the demon in him was only reserved for his foes. I thought that since I was the only person he was kind to, I wouldn't be subject to his brutality." She shivered as she wrapped her arms around herself, trembling. "We had good moments. But they were the exception, not the norm. And eventually, inevitably, that cruelty extended to me." She wiped the tears from her eyes. "That isn't to say he doesn't feel remorse for it. That's what all the gifts are for." She exhaled shakily. "But that doesn't erase all the nights I spent sobbing. Alone. Frightened of my own husband. You're not a moron. You've seen them. You probably know it wasn't our first fight. Or the last."

She slumps against the glass wall of the menagerie, gazing up toward the atmosphere. The moon reflects in her eyes, a white pool against the deep violet of her glimmering irises. Then her stare hardens.

"But you're wrong about Hytur." Her hands clench into fists. "You weren't my only visitor. He would bring me presents as well. He found out which flowers were my favorite. He would bring me the seeds and pots of dirt. He would help me put them in the sunniest parts of the room. Teach me how to water them properly." She fiddles with the hem of her gown. "When I was with him, it was like all the fear melted away. He put me at ease. He bandaged my injuries. He wrote me letters from his typewriter. He cracked jokes. Jokes that made me laugh until my belly hurt. We played Jaelyra." Her voice thickens. "He reminded me of you."

So what if the second spot on her board isn't reserved for me anymore? Now it belongs to the person I despise most in the entire world. That doesn't mean I've been replaced. The man I despise most in the entire world is good for her. And I want that even more than I want her.

"Except as the flowers blossomed, so did our feelings for each other. And our friendship became something more. A lot more." Eyfira blushes. "Now you've seen it, too."

The fire in my gut slowly dwindles away. The fog of rage around my mind clears. My heart softens. Then it sears with regret. I shouldn't have lashed out at her. I didn't even see the full scope of her circumstances. I didn't even let her explain. Deep down, she was still the girl I knew. I was just too shallow. Too shallow to even bother looking past the disheveled clothes and messy hair. The damage underneath.

I sit down beside her and put my arms around her. She closes her eyes and rests her head on my shoulder. I take off my vest and cover her with it. Then I tuck her snugly against my body, gently combing through her hair, my eyes stinging.

"I won't tell the Empress," I whisper, my vision bleary. "I-I'm sorry."

"It's okay," she murmurs.

"I don't know what came over me."

"Me neither." Eyfira pauses, swallowing the lump in her throat. "We're still friends, right?" I brush the hair out of her face and pin it back in place with the hair clip.

"Always."

"Hey, dummy!" Aijon hollers, running a petticoat through the loudly thrumming sewing machine, "could you pick up the silk and satin I ordered at Ilastan Market?"

"The stall at the east side with the spiders painted on it?" I holler back.

"Yeah, hop to it!"

I take the keys off the counter. I load several boxes into the back of my chariot. I climb into the carriage, tightly gripping the crossbar with one hand. I turn on the ignition. The mechanical horses at the front spring to life with a spew of smoke. Then they clop down the cobblestone roads of my estate and towards the main street.

As they gallop past the fence around our mansion, another chariot passes us. A model identical to mine, except it's pulled by golden stallions with black stripes. It curves to the left, making a beeline straight for my house. My brows furrow when I see the vitiligo on the skin of the driver in the window. I tug on the reins. My horses trot to a stop.

The Magistrate's chariot brakes in front of our fence. He steps out and pulls on the string that activates the doorbell. A faint ringing. Then the doors of my house swing open.

My father ambles out to Hytur. They exchange a handshake, but they aren't smiling. Their posture is tense, alert. They exchange a knowing look and disappear back into our mansion. My brow furrows.

Something's up.

I urge my horses to continue to the market before I start holding up traffic.

I locate the stall at the east side. A tiny felt spider hangs from the little wooden sign. A spiderweb of silvery paint decorates the name of the store.

"THE WIDOW'S LOOM."

I make a note of it, so I don't have to remember what the hell Aijon is babbling about based purely on his vague directions.

The store owner, a friendly old woman, waves to me as I stroll to the front. I grin as she warmly clasps my hands in hers.

"Miss Arachna," I greet her. "How's business?"

"Excellent as usual, thanks to your family, Lady Medane," she chirps. "How are they faring, by the way?"

"We're all doing well." I playfully raise an eyebrow at her. "My cousin says you have some fabric for us." Arachna nods enthusiastically and hurries to the back of the stand. After a few minutes of searching, she returns with a look of utter dismay on her face.

"The shipment is late." She sighs and wrings her hands. "But it'll be here by tomorrow morning. I'm so sorry, Lady Medane! I ought to be ashamed of myself, making you come all this way for nothing only to send you back with an empty chariot."

"Whoa, whoa, it's not your fault," I assure her, hopping back into my carriage. "And it was nice talking to you anyway."

"It's getting late, milady," Arachna presses. "You'd best be on your way." She pats me on the hand. "Send your household my well-wishes." I beam at her. My horses begin to canter away, picking up speed as they race down the street again.

"See you tomorrow!"

"Okay, so the shipment's late, no big deal," Aijon grumbles. "I only have six more orders to complete by Sunday!"

"Aijon, it's Monday," I reply flatly.

"Zip it! You aren't the one making six whole corsets. And I want to get it all done today so I can relax for the rest of the week!"

"Where are mother and father?" I ask, ignoring him.

"They're in the living room. The door's shut, though. They put up the 'Do Not Disturb' notice and everything," he huffs, aggressively embroidering a peacock into a gray coat. "They're talking to some guy named Hytur Osson. Probably another buyer." He wiggles his eyebrows at me. "Or potential suitor."

"You're an idiot," I say, rolling my eyes.

Before he can insult me back, I start making my way down the corridor. Surely enough, the door to the living room is locked, and a notice with the message "Do Not Disturb" has been taped onto the knob. I crouch down and put my eye up against the keyhole, peering inside.

My mother and father are sitting on the sofa. A small table with a teapot is set down in front of them. Steam floats up from the spout. It's freshly brewed. I can smell the roses they used from here.

Hytur is perched on a chair, sipping from one of our dainty porcelain cups. My mother anxiously fiddles with her bracelet. My father leans forward, the toe of his leather shoes tapping impatiently on the floor. Then he breaks the silence.

"Did you do it yet?" he asks.

"The tea is delicious," Hytur muses. "Sweet and floral, but not overpowering. You must've used the natural nectar of the bud instead of sugar."

"Don't toy with us, Osson," my mother snaps. "Have you seduced the princess or not?"

"Of course," Hytur answers nonchalantly. "The poor girl is practically wrapped around my finger."

Turncoat, I think bitterly. I knew you were up to no good.

"How long have you been in her bed?" my father presses.

"Long enough for me to completely earn her trust," Hytur says. My mother squeezes my father's hand and smiles hopefully at him. He smiles back. He takes an envelope out and passes it to Hytur. The corner of the Magistrate curls up as he counts his pay.

"We can move into the next phase, then."

"Excellent," Hytur says cheerily. "The feast is in a month. I'll come clean to the Empress and the king of cannibals about the affair. As far as they know, Eyfira seduced me. She tricked me. Told me that the alliance had been renegotiated so it didn't involve marriage anymore. Then I will secure the Empress' favor with my...honesty. Left with no one, Eyfira will turn to me and choose me as her new husband."

"We'll provide you with the poison," my father adds. My mother nods. Hytur's face falls. The cup quivers a bit as he sets it down. He cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"Poison?"

My blood seems to freeze.

"For the Empress and the princess," my mother prompts.

"When you hired me, you said the task was infidelity," Hytur laughs nervously. "Not an assassination -"

My father slides another envelope onto the table. Hytur presses his lips together. His knuckles whiten as he hesitantly tears it open. It contains a check. A million qen. He is quiet as he contemplates it. Weighs the risk and the profit.

"You seriously think I would commit high treason for money?"

"You slept with a tyrant's wife for money," my mother points out.

"And that's not all," my father continues. "After they succumb to the effects, you'll stage a breakdown, ascend to the throne, and appoint Raiju as your chief advisor."

"Seosha's line of inheritance has been matrilineal for centuries," Hytur says grimly. "They will not accept an Emperor."

"Perhaps they will be more easily persuaded if you present a document," my father hands him a scroll, "detailing that Eyfira has granted you permission to rule in her spirit if she should die." Hytur shifts in his chair.

"What do you request of me in return?"

"Legalize homosexuality and same-sex unions."

My heart stops. My nails dig into the frame of the door. Even Hytur is taken aback for a moment.

"Th-that's it?"

"Our daughter Raiju has no interest in marrying a man," my father says gravely. "I cannot call herself my parent if I let the Empress exile her, or if I disown her myself on account of something so trivial. Their prejudice has caused more people to suffer than her orientation ever will."

Then a massive weight instantly lifts off me. A weight that crushed me ever since I was a little girl. The weight of not knowing whether my family's love would turn to hatred if they knew I didn't love the way they did. But now I'm a hundred times lighter. My family loves me. They will always love me, no matter what form my love takes. And I love them, too. I love them so, so much.

"Raiju is not an abomination," my mother says firmly. "She is not a perversion. She is a brilliant designer. She is a Medane. She is my daughter. She should be able to experience the same love that my husband and I do, even if she would prefer a wife."

"Does she know about our operation?" Hytur questions, carefully inspecting the cheque to ensure it isn't a fake.

"No, she cares too much about Eyfira."

"And we trust that she won't find out," my father says pointedly, glaring daggers at the Magistrate.

"She won't," Hytur says solemnly. He almost pockets the cheque, but then my mother plucks it right out of his fingers.

"You'll receive it when you do as asked." The Magistrate's eyes flicker with annoyance, but he maintains his smile.

"Deal."

My heart clenches. I clap a hand over my mouth. Tears sting in my eyes. I don't know whether I'm crying from gladness or grief. I will be able to spend my life with another woman. With the court's blessing.

Except they are going to kill the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with.