Skarsh Waterscale's Arc

Chapter 9 of 9

The drake lifts its head from the water and makes a sound Skarsh knows well. Not alarm. Question. Skarsh turns and sees movement at the tree line where the hunter disappeared. A figure emerges on horseback, dressed in fine clothing that does not belong in the marsh. The rider moves toward the gazebo at a steady pace. His cape flutters behind him, bright red against the dull greens and browns of the forest edge. The woman stands and stares at the approaching figure. Artur steps forward and speaks a name, low and sharp. Prince Folly. The prince dismounts near a weathered stone pillar at the clearing's edge and walks the rest of the way on foot, carrying something that catches the light. When he reaches the gazebo, he stops and looks directly at the woman. He speaks her name clearly, then holds up a necklace heavy with jewels and gold. He says words Skarsh does not understand, but the woman's face changes. She shakes her head slowly. The prince keeps talking, gesturing at the contract still folded in her hand, then at the necklace, then at his own chest. Skarsh understands the shape of what is happening. This man claims he is the one she is betrothed to. He has come to convince her to marry him. The woman takes a step back and makes the symbol for "no" with her hand. She speaks quickly, her voice rising. The prince does not move. He sets the necklace on the stone bench between them and continues talking. Skarsh watches the woman's shoulders tighten. She is not afraid. She is angry. Artur moves closer to her side, and Skarsh steps onto the gazebo platform. The prince notices him for the first time and stops mid-sentence. His eyes widen as he takes in Skarsh's form — the scales, the claws, the snakeskin veil. The woman speaks again, louder now, and points at Skarsh. She says words in a pattern Skarsh recognizes from the scroll she showed him. "Together." "Choice." The prince looks between them, confusion replacing certainty on his face. Then he reaches for the necklace and holds it higher, speaking faster. The woman does not look at the jewels. She looks at Skarsh. Skarsh understands what she is asking him without words. She needs proof that someone stands with her who is not bound by contract or bloodline or wealth. Someone who chose her freely and will not leave when the choosing becomes difficult. He moves to stand beside her at the center of the gazebo, fully visible in the daylight. The drake surfaces completely and watches from the water's edge. The woman reaches out and takes Skarsh's hand in front of the prince. Her grip is steady. The prince stares at their joined hands, then at the necklace in his own. He speaks one more time, quieter now, but the woman shakes her head again. She does not need convincing. She already made her choice. The prince stands motionless for a long moment, then lowers the necklace and turns back toward his horse. He does not look at them again as he mounts and rides toward the forest. The woman does not let go of Skarsh's hand until the hoofbeats fade completely. When she finally releases him, she meets his eyes and nods once. The prince came offering love instead of contract. She chose the creature from the marsh who offered nothing but his presence.