The gondola docked at the half-submerged steps.
“That’s it! I must go back to the palace,” the page helped her out of the gondola.
What hands he has! Desdemona shuddered at the touch of webbed fingers partially covered with scales. Even swamp fever doesn’t leave marks like that.
“Thank you for bringing it,” she said forcefully. You have to be polite.
“Thank the king. He’s the one who told me to escort you home.”
“Who did it?”
That sounds too fanciful. More like a corny boy’s joke. Who doesn’t know that every poor provincial girl dreams of attracting the king’s attention? Desdemona turned sharply with the intention of reprimanding the pageboy for his insolence, but both he and the gondola were already gone. The canal they had come from had somehow disappeared with them. Only a path overgrown with daffodils led to the cottage. There was not even a puddle near the cottage.
Swamp Prophetess
Candida rented a small but cozy two-story cottage. There was somewhere to stay while waiting for the official festivities after the coronation, which all the nobles were expected to attend. Those who were richer either had their own houses in the capital or rented entire mansions. This was not their case with their stepmother! Their cottage was surrounded by wild honeysuckle, balsam and rose hips. It was a picturesque place, but too far from the city.
Desdemona thought someone was hiding in the attic windows. It was all imagination. She pulled the ring. The door creaked nastily. The cramped hallway was dark. None of the servants greeted her.
But Desdemona mistook a green horned silhouette with many octopus-like limbs standing at the window, blocking out all the light, for a coat rack. And when she realized who was in front of her, she recoiled like a scalded woman.
The green diva, erect at full height, resembled a giantess from the swamp. Snakes swarmed in a halo around her head. There were several arms. From her back grew something like numerous slimy tails. They were fanning over her neck.
Desdemona did not know what to think. The creature in front of her was both magnificent, like an ancient deity, and horrible, like a character from children’s horror stories.
“You ate my whole family? Why is this place empty? It’s not a swamp! Go back! Or crawl away!”
The green face grinned snidely. Yellow eyes glittering yellow stared at the girl.
This was not the diva who had spoken to her from the pond. The face, though similar, was different. It would be beautiful if it weren’t for the frightening lumpy growths, like gills, and the predatory gaze. In addition, a third eye suddenly opened on her forehead beneath her snake hair. It was not yellow, but red.
“You are nineteenth Priestess,” the diva held out one clawed green hand. “As soon as you join us in the temple, the whole country will sink. All you need to do is perform the ritual.”
Desdemona staggered back, hit a large floor candlestick with her back, and knocked it over. It was better than if she had fallen herself. The floor beneath her feet was slippery. A viscous green sludge coated the floorboards.
“Do you know you’ve been prepared as a sacrifice?” The diva moved all her long octopus limbs, but she dared not touch Desdemona. “If you are opened and refreshed during the ritual, with your death the canal will close for us for another nineteen years, and the country will not sink. But a new ruler has come. Darunon has the right not to sacrifice you, but to perform another ritual. Then everything will sink, but you will survive and become the favorite priestess of the sea god.”
“Go away!”
Desdemona didn’t believe her anymore. It sounded too much like nonsense.
“If you don’t get to the temple on time and stay alive, the whole country will sink before the new moon. If you find a lover instead of becoming a priestess, the country will sink too. No choice!”
It doesn’t make sense. Desdemona was about to say so, but the diva’s silhouette began to fade, as if the paint had been wiped away with a rag.
The diva vanished as if the damp air had absorbed her, but a large muddy puddle remained on the floor, just where the guest had been standing. So it wasn’t a dream.
“What are you doing here?”
The sudden appearance of the stepmother behind her back was even more unpleasant than the visit of the swamp creature. Desdemona was suddenly enraged at her arrogance and disdain. How could you abandon her in the square in the middle of a storm!
“Actually, I live where my family does, which is, for the moment, you alone.”
Brothers at sea can be left out for now. As soon as they return, Candida will send them somewhere else. She usually chooses them to go where it’s more dangerous. Stepchildren are a burden to a young stepmother. A stepdaughter is a double burden.
“How did you get in?”
“The door was unlocked.”
“Was it?”
“Do you lock yourself out from me?”
No answer to the rhetorical question. Candida grumbled unhappily.
“Why is there a puddle on the floor? Didn’t you dry your dresses after you got caught in the rain?”
“I almost drowned. It was a mess in the square when you left me there.”
“It’s a shame you came back alive,” Candida said sincerely. “This house is cramped without you.”
There was no reason to resent her stepmother! At least she speaks sincerely. Lies – that’s what offends.
Candida was always short of money. This time, although it was enough to rent a cottage, it wasn’t enough for a maid.
“Come on! You can help me unbuckle my corset now that you’re here.”
Desdemona brushed her wavy blond hair with a brush and grudgingly recognized her stepmother as a beauty. Although it was hard not to be pampered and luxurious, sitting idle at home.
Candida seemed to have read her mind.
“Rumor has it that the young king is very handsome. He’s looking for a worthy bride right now. Do you think he might like me?”
“Don’t forget you’re already married.”
“Yes, to your sickly father,” Candida said with a bored look. “He may not last long, but the trouble is that kings are only suited to innocent maidens. It would be good to pretend that you are my stepmother, not the other way around.”
Desdemona almost dropped her brush in surprise.
“We’re almost the same age. And you have such a lean look, as if you were almost a widow.”
How like Candida to sin and be hypocritical, even though she doesn’t realize she’s doing wrong.
“The King is no petty aristocrat from the provinces. If the deception is discovered, you will be executed for such an adventure,” Desdemona informed her in a mentor-like tone. Usually it is the heads of families who teach their children and stepdaughters wisdom, but it is the other way around. The stepmother’s head is as naughty as a five-year-old girl.
Candida shivered as if she was cold.
“I’ve heard that execution in Aquilania is a gruesome process where the criminal is tied up and left by the water, from which something crawls out… Well, not even a corpse is left on the shore.”
“You will probably be dragged away as a traitor by the sea king and put on the throne instead of execution, breaking the treaty with the Earthlings and not drowning you. Legends say it’s