The Marble Crow

I stare up at your face, calm and calculating. I made sure they put that tiny scar above your lip. The very same one you made yourself as a babe, from gnawing on a jagged bone like a puppy. I stare at your hair, a swirling contrast of both tangled and torn, and braided beads. I remember how you said you hated when your mother insisted on touching it, how it made you squirm when she tried. I stare at your frame, proud shoulders, tight hips, the slender form of a feral cat in human skin. And I stare at your eyes, the one thing no sculptor, no master craftsman on earth could get right. Though I suppose I don’t need them to, I remember them well enough. The endless ocean blue, the dark lashes, the freckles etching the corners, but most of all I remember the mysterious spark hidden behind them. I always found it charming, how they glinted like snake skin. Your eyes were truly beautiful, Thalia, but they always allowed your intentions to shine through. If only I’d noticed sooner. 

You remember too, don’t you? The first day we met? It was spring, and I was just of age to be wedded off to some suitor with his hunting obsession and masculine pride. I found that most of them were practically identical, with one odd quirk or another, but their intentions were always the same. They wanted a bride, nothing more. They didn’t want a queen, or a partner, they wanted a fertile uterus and someone to keep their bed warm when they were away. In essence, they were all indescribably dull. No wonder I scampered off into the garden the second after I’d turned the last of them down. I just wanted a breath of fresh air, but I found you instead… So, I suppose I got what I wanted. 

You’d gotten lost in the hedge maze, remember, Thalia? I heard you cursing as I wandered around the grounds. You were so lucky I was the one that found you instead of the guards. I knew the maze like the back of my hand. My father and I used to play a game where I’d run in and hide and he’d try to find me. That was the first time I’d gone back inside since his passing. 

I wasn’t allowed inside the maze, or really anywhere, without an escort anymore. Without my father’s protection, the advisors feared I’d get swooped up by the northern barbarians like a kitten by a hawk. I’d always rolled my eyes at their caution. The barbarians had been a thorn in my family’s backside for years, but they would never be so bold. 

I found you there, collapsed in a defeated huff not far from the heart of the maze itself. I chuckled to myself, wondering how you’d managed to get that lost. That’s when you spotted me. 

“Oi, you. Give me a hand, would ya?” I remember those words so vividly, it was the first time anyone had ever addressed me in such an informal tone. It left no room for question, so I quickly walked to your side and bent to help you up, my hand outstretched. 

“And just who are you?” I finally remembered to ask, the aforementioned hand recoiling slightly. 

“What’s it to you?” you snapped in return, crossing your arms passively over your chest. I grinned at the opportunity. 

“Well as the lady of these grounds and future Queen, I think I deserve to know.” I crossed my arms as well, mirroring your stubborn stance. I watched in satisfaction as your eyes briefly widened with bewilderment. But you quickly stifled your surprise with a mischievous grin, not unlike those of the Fae, jagged and almost sickly sweet.

“Thalia. Call me Thalia.” You paused for a moment, examining me, before displaying a disheveled curtsy, “My Lady,” you concluded at last.     

From that moment on I spent every tedious hour of tutoring, suitors, and responsibility counting down the seconds until I could meet you in the maze. You got lost every time, but I always hunted you down and led you to the heart of the hedges, the old fountain. It had been dry for years, as my father had been the one to maintain it, but it made a good bench to recline on even in its dilapidated state. Though you were never one for sitting still and enjoying the scenery. However, I soon found I didn’t mind your restlessness. You always served to keep me on my toes. 

Remember the afternoon you brought your blades? I found it so very odd, a woman carrying a weapon. Well not just a weapon, but a belt of them, your hips lined with sharp silver teeth. Yet what surprised me more than anything else was that you knew how to use them. 

“And what do you plan to do with those?” I asked, taking a hesitant step back. 

“Come here.” You beckoned me over. “I’ll show you.” 

You turned and stared into the hedges of the maze, until the skittering of a crow in the branches caught your attention. You then steadied your stance and grabbed one of the knives from your waist, letting it hang limply at your side. Just when I’d started to think you’d lost your nerve, the blade was launched from your hand with all the speed of a guillotine hitting the block. The knife caught the bird's wing and a sharp scream confirmed you’d injured your target, though it wasn’t yet dead. 

I watched helplessly as the crow fell to the ground and fluttered, desperately trying to take flight. With every movement of its wounded wing, feathers and blood spattered the ground. Its cries sounded so pained, so forlorn, I wanted to cover my ears like a child to block out the noise. I glanced over at you, and found you staring at the wounded animal with passive interest, eyes flashing as you watched its despondent dance. 

I felt a fire light in my belly. An uncontrollable flame that spread across my skin, melting my frozen figure. Without a second thought, I quickly spun around, grabbed one of the knives off your belt, and pounced on the bird. I dragged it to the ground and plunged the blade into its breast with one motion, bringing its suffering to an abrupt end.  

Still holding the crow to the ground, I looked at you over my shoulder. Your usually calm, teasing attitude had been replaced with stunned silence, your eyes as wide as a fawn’s. I stifled my morbid satisfaction as you shook off your shock. You grinned as you walked over and crouched beside me, balancing on your toes. Reaching forward, you plucked an inky black primary feather from the bird, and placed it delicately behind my ear.

“I didn’t think you had it in you. I’m impressed,” you admitted. I’ve worn that feather every day since. 

Tell me, dear Thalia, do you remember the night of the autumn festival? Rather, the night of my coronation? We’d been meeting each other in secret for months. From late spring through the summer and into the fall. We’d spent every afternoon watching the leaves of the hedges shift from a deep green into a proud orange. That night, with the festival lanterns lighting up the grounds, and the autumn wind coursing through the branches, the maze pulsed like it was on fire. 

I’d just gotten back from the parade, arms sore from relentlessly greeting my subjects, and mind sore from my posture or my voice or my attitude being chastised by the advisors. 

“Calm yourself, our Queen must be gentle. Greet the children, our Queen must be kind. Fix your crown, our Queen must be beautiful.” And so it went on and on and on. I was so exhausted by the time I got back to the palace, I was half tempted to just crawl into bed and let my mind wander off into dreamland. But I knew you were waiting, so I rolled up my skirts, dyed deep russet and gold like the foliage, and wandered into the maze. 

After nearly an hour of looking for you I grew nervous. You’d never found your way to the center of the maze on your own before, so I assumed you’d gotten tired of waiting for me and left. Nonetheless, I decided to check the heart, just in case. The leaves tickled and lapped at my arms as I went, like tiny tongues of flame. They scattered around my feet, parting politely for every step. 

As I stared into the amber walls, I daydreamed as if I were still a child. I dreamt I was a regal dragon, a great scaly beast, and the maze was my fire. It couldn’t harm me, even if it wanted to. Nothing could. I was invincible, immortal, not a living soul was brave enough to question my actions, not with the threat of my wrath breathing down their back. My dress became my scaled and impenetrable armor, my crown my magnificent horns, my eyes sharper than any blade. I was still wrapped up in this fantasy when I rounded the corner into the heart of the maze. 

I’m sure you remember the shock on my face the second I saw it. The fountain, my father’s beloved fountain, the very same one that had lain neglected, still and alone since his passing, flowing with crystal clear water once more. The moss and lichen had even been scrubbed from the stone, so it shined like a pale pearl beneath the lanterns. I turned to you, where you’d been standing quietly watching my awe with amusement. You gestured to the fountain with and with a flourish. “Well, what do you think?” 

I stood silently for a moment, staring at you, the fountain, and back again, before finally galloping over and pulling you into the tightest hug I could manage. You went rigid for a moment, as if you weren’t prepared for the contact. But I soon felt your arms, muscled and tan, wrap around me as well. Finally, you pulled away.

“Thalia, I don’t know what to say...” 

“Then don’t say a thing,” you interrupted, a sly grin on your face, blue eyes flashing. “Let’s just say I have something else up my sleeve.” 

Apparently, you meant that quite literally, because with a flick of your wrist a small black box appeared in your hand. As I bent over to get a closer look, you began turning a small crank on the side, and I could hear tiny gears turning and clicking together. You released the crank, and a quiet melody began chirping from the cube on your palm. 

“A music box,” I whispered in astonishment. I only knew about them from fairy tales from far off countries. I never even considered they could be real. 

“How did you get your hands on this?” I questioned. Placing the box on the edge of the fountain, you turned to look at me, winking coyly. I rolled my eyes before wandering over to sit beside the wonderful little object. The song it sang was sad, contemplative, and gentle. I let my eyelids fall closed, like curtains blocking out the night, the maze, and you. I listened to the story it told, a tale of a seabound soldier, a landlocked companion, a torn and fragmented love. The chords it struck sent me spiraling into worlds I never thought I’d get to see. I must thank you for bringing me there, Thalia. 

Just when I decided I was content with making my escape into the music box's melody, you knelt down in front of me, your hand on my knee waking me from the fantasy. I looked down at you, my eyebrows raising questioningly as I saw your expression. You looked nervous. Thalia, carved from nothing but wit and confidence, looked nervous. 

Your eyes seemed glued to my dress, unable to meet my gaze. Blue eyes caught in the russet fringe, like a jay in the branches of an autumn maple. I put my hand on top of yours, and you finally remembered the silent promise you’d made to always stubbornly look me in the eye. 

“Princess,” you started.

“Queen,” I corrected, grinning. You sighed. 

“My Queen.” You paused for a moment, expecting to be interrupted. When I didn’t, you relaxed and took a deep breath, as if to calm yourself. I almost felt bad for teasing you, but my regret was overpowered by my curiosity towards what was wracking your nerves oh so fiercely. 

“My Queen,” you began again, stronger this time, “Might I have this dance?” 

“Is that all?” I finally asked. “With an expression like that, I half expected you to romantically propose marriage like a love-struck suitor.” I fanned myself teasingly. You pouted in response, not unlike those very same suitors as I turned them down. 

“But yes,” I said with a smile. “A dance sounds acceptable.” 

With a grin you grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet, spinning me gently before drawing me close. We swayed to the music and the splashing of the fountain. We swayed to the autumn air and the sound of creatures skittering throughout the maze. We swayed to each other, our familiar heartbeats. I wrapped my arms around your neck, and you your arms about my waist. Your skill surprised me, the way you spun me, the way you dipped me until I almost touched the ground. The way our bodies moved together like water, a single current. Suddenly, the song of the music box came to an end, and you froze. 

I looked at you, adoration and comfort sparking in my blood, even as we stood there motionless beneath the lamplight. Your dark hair, braided and beautiful as it rippled in the breeze was the only movement. I realized I couldn’t see your face, as it was buried in my shoulder. This bothered me, though I didn’t understand why. I just had to see it. I grabbed your chin, and tilted it back towards me. 

Your expression sent a chill down my spine. It was cold. Frozen. Your deep blue eyes as icy and unforgiving as the tide. Your lips were devoid of that obstinate smile. All of this so deeply contradicted the way I was feeling. I became scared, and attempted to stumble away, but your arms held fast, grip tight as iron. 

“Thalia…” I warned, but my trembling voice was cut off by the caw you let loose from your throat. The caw that sounded exactly like the crow I’d killed that day oh so many moons ago. Before my heart could beat even once, the hedge maze exploded around us.