Arron as he is, the venom will only cause a little redness.
“I have salve that will help,” Katharine says, and goes into the other room to fetch it.
Pietyr eyes the snake ruefully as he holds his wrist. Reacting was the right thing to do. Katharine would have been sick with the venom for days, even after receiving treatment. But he did so without thinking. And he had been afraid that Katharine would be hurt. Truly afraid.
“Only a king-consort is fool enough to love a queen,” he says quietly.
WOLF SPRING
Arsinoe and Billy walk side by side through the winter market. Since their introduction and their afternoon at Dogwood Pond, it has proved difficult for Arsinoe to get away from him, but in the market, Arsinoe does not mind. Jules is often with Joseph, and without her there, Arsinoe feels exposed in crowded places. In bustling parts of town, like the market, wicked glances sting like bees. Any in the crowd could grow brave enough to reach around and slit her throat.
“Arsinoe?” Billy asks. “What’s the matter?”
She studies the surly winter faces of fishmongers she has known since she came to Wolf Spring. A good number of them consider her weakness a disgrace and would see her dead.
“Nothing,” she says.
Billy sighs. “I am not in the mood for the market today,” he says. “Let’s buy something to eat and walk up into the orchards. It’s not too cold for that.”
On the way, they stop at Madge’s shellfish stand so that Billy can pay for two fried stuffed clams. He barely fumbles with the coins this time. He is learning.
They eat quickly as they walk, to keep them from getting cold. Madge stuffs her clams with chunks of crab and buttered bread crumbs. When she feels particularly generous, she dices in some nice, fat bacon.
As they walk past the docks, toward the road that heads up over the hill and into the apple orchards, Billy stares down at his clamshell, turning it over in his hands.
“Staring at it won’t make it grow a new one,” Arsinoe says. “You should have bought three.”
He grins and draws his arm back to throw the shell into the cove as far as he can. Arsinoe throws hers as well.
“Mine went farther,” she says.
“It did not.”
Arsinoe smiles. Actually, she could not tell.
“What happened to your hand?” Billy asks.
Arsinoe tugs her jacket sleeve down to cover the scabbing from the new rune she cut into her palm.
“I cut it on the chicken coop,” she says.
“Oh.”
He does not believe her. She should have made up something else. No chicken coop could leave behind such an intricate design. And she has still not told Jules what she and Madrigal are doing.
“Junior,” she says, looking closer at the docks. “Where is your boat?”
The slip where it has bobbed since Joseph’s return is empty, and the entire cove looks darker because of it.
“My father’s returned home,” he says. “It is easy enough to come and go. A short sail to the mist and through it. My God, I feel mad just saying that aloud. Madder, knowing that it’s true.”
“Easy to come and go,” Arsinoe mutters. Easy for anyone but her, anyway.
“But listen, when he returns . . .”
“What?”
“He intends for me to meet your sisters. We’re to travel to Indrid Down and the Arrons. And Queen Katharine.”
Of course. He wants his son to wear the crown. He has no particular loyalty to the naturalists, no matter how fond he became of Joseph during his banishment.
“You never call me ‘Queen Arsinoe’ anymore,” she notes.
“Do you want me to?”
She shakes her head. To be called a queen feels like a nickname. Like something that only Luke calls her. They walk up the road and then wave to Maddie Pace when she rumbles past in her oxcart. Arsinoe does not need to look to know that Maddie has twisted around in her seat to stare at them. The whole of the town is interested in their courting.
“I don’t know if I want to meet the rest of you,” Billy says. “It feels a little like befriending a cow on its way to slaughter.”
Arsinoe chuckles. “Be sure to tell my sisters that, when you meet them,” she says. “But if you don’t want to meet them, then don’t.”
“My father isn’t the sort of man you say no to. He gets what he wants. He won’t have raised a failure.”
“And what did your mother raise?” she asks, and he looks at her, surprised.
“It doesn’t matter,” he says. “She