She was happier now. She was sure of it. Mr. Capulatio smiled all the time, he slept with his cheek pressed to the pillow so handsomely, his breath easy, in and out, and inviting. She liked lying close beside him and had become accustomed to sidling up next to him, pressing into the curve of his body. She felt that they were two caterpillars, knitted together into a cocoon.
Mr. Capulatio was watching her tenderly. “You really don’t have to cry.”
But she could not stop. So he took her by the shoulders and held her face up to his own like a mirror. “Today is also the day I became the True King. Aren’t you happy for me? For us? Aren’t you excited that the shuttles are returning?”
“I was thinking of my brother.”
He nodded grimly. “Yes. I’ve been thinking of him too.” He extricated her from his arms. He grabbed her by the leg and thrust her dress up past her hips. She gasped, surprised. Had he gotten the idea from Orchid’s display at the wedding? His hands were prodding the burn mark Argento had given her two years before, when her mother abandoned her to his carnival.
“This,” said Mr. Capulatio. His fingers mushed at the skin, puckering it and smoothing it out again. The lines, inward-falling, boundless symmetry. As above, so below. “This is not fit for my wife. This is another denomination’s sigil, the mark of a foreign cosmology and the personal brand of an indigent rapist. Highly, highly unfavorable for our magic. Very disturbing. I’ve been very kind. I overlooked it this long because I hate to cause you pain. But now is a time of change. For us all. That idiot cannot ride with us into the Cape when we take the palace. Not him, not his brand.”
She covered the mark with her hand.
“I’m a kind man. I was just born with mercy, I can’t help it. I’ve let you keep that marking longer than I should. But I’m sure you understand that no one can ever see it. So we will be removing it tonight. Right now.” He said it like a taunt. He pulled a short knife from the waistband of his pants.
She backed away from him like a crab, terrified, until her shoulder hit a low-hanging lantern and sent a carousel of red and black shadows around the tent. She yanked the wedding dress down over her thigh.
“No!”
“We have no choice.”
She stumbled to her feet and dashed to the far side of the tent, where she hid behind her cage. “You promised you would never hurt me.”
“It won’t hurt. Not much, anyway. Don’t be a coward.”
In the months since Mr. Capulatio had taken her, she’d become less and less accustomed to the awfulness that before had regularly consumed her life. She was rarely cold now, and never hungry, and when they collided together at night in the bed it had felt like lovemaking and never like whatever she’d had before, the pain of which she could stand but which slowly had chipped away at something inside her, leaving a formless emotion that she could not name. Her skin was softer now, her body was healthier, and her breasts had become larger. She realized she’d thought she was almost safe.
“Orchid was right, Queenie. We should make sacrifices for the Great Work. She should. You should. I should.”
“What is the Great Work?” she shrieked. “Please tell me!”
He tossed his dark hair. “I’m not that easily distracted. Little manipulator. You’re already learning from her, I see. But it will be a long time before you’re smarter than me.” He considered. “Longer still before you’re smarter than her. What a fine play she made out there on the beach. The affront burns me up. But by heaven she’s a woman of many intriguing talents. I don’t think anyone could criticize my choice of brides, first or second.” He paused. “Tell me, did you think our wedding was enough? Be honest. I think I heard people complaining of the food.”
She blinked in bewilderment.
He flashed one hand at her dismissively. “O, what do you know, you’re just a child.” He turned the little knife over and around in his hands.
She wasn’t sure where he was headed. He would never be so cold that he could cut out her brand while she thrashed and screamed beneath him. But she had seen him behead her own brother—had Argento deserved it? She didn’t know. All the things she didn’t know! Perhaps Mr. Capulatio really did know better than her. Slowly she peeked out from behind the cage. He was still talking. Often he talked to himself in the same voice he used when he was talking to her.
“People are so ungrateful,” he was muttering. “I try to overlook it. I’m trying to overlook your ungratefulness right this second. What are you doing, hiding from me? I’m your husband. I queened you. You are the most important thing in all the land, maybe even more important than me. And you’re hiding! Unbelievable! We came to the Cape to save people, Aurora. How can you save people if you’re afraid to do this small thing? What if they see that brand and think you’re a blasphemer? Your brother’s carnival had an archaic view of the Return! Have you not read any of the books I gave you?” he demanded. “Of course you haven’t.” He smiled meanly.
“I was reading. I am reading. I haven’t had any time!”
He laughed at that, a deep whirling laugh. “You do what I tell you to do. I told you to read the books.”
“I will. I’ll read them.”
He smiled. “That’s the first time you’ve admitted you can read.”
“Well, I can.”
He scooted on his hands and knees around the cage until he was sitting close to her again.
