The Marriage Game

In Which Camila is Basically a Talking Rock

Rosa traced a fingernail across Camila's neck, the nail hard as steel. Her pink lips curved upwards.

"You'd think being royalty would give you better instincts, but you're as stupid as a pig following a butcher," Rosa said.

"Who are you?"

"Rosa, obviously. Do you ever listen to me?"

Camila looked at her backpack. If she could just get it open, get a hand inside the front pocket, she'd have a dagger and a sense of power.

Rosa sighed. "Do you really want to fight? Now? I thought we were friends." She pursed her lips, snapped her fingers, and Camila's body froze.

It felt like she was a puppet. Her limbs belonged to someone else, her body, her free will had been taken away with a single snap of Rosa's manicured fingers. She concentrated on her little finger, glaring at it, tensing the muscles and trying to relax, to focus. The finger stayed as still as a rock.

At least she could still breathe. Maybe she could bite Rosa? Spit in her eye? Scream her to death?

"If you don't want to talk, I might as well just kill you already. It'd be a pity, though," Rosa bit her lip, thinking. "I do think we could be besties, if we really worked at it. You're just not putting in enough energy."

"Zora," Camila called out. "Declan." She glared daggers at the seat in front of her. Surely Declan and Zora had overheard the conversation, surely they were planning something-

"Oh, they're paralyzed."

Fantastic.

"I know! It really is. I'm so glad you like me, bestie."

"Can you- Was that-"

"Yes. And yes, I can read your mind. Your thoughts are so dull! All duty and family and blah, blah, blah." Rosa propped her elbow on the armrest, leaning closer. "Your daggers are in the front pocket, right?"

With Zora. Camila chanted in her mind, hoping against hope that Rosa could only see surface level thoughts. With Zora. My daggers are with Zora.

Rosa sighed. "Ugh. You're so determined. It's mildly insulting. Don't you ever get tired of bending over backwards for people who barely give you the time of day?"

"Paralyzing people is mildly insulting."

"Is it?" Rosa bent over Camila's legs, grabbing at her backpack. Her skin was cold, the bones of her shoulders and arms jabbing into Camila's legs. She unzipped the front pocket.

When Rosa sat back in her seat, she held a gleaming silver dagger.

"Dwarven steel? It's quite pretty."

"I'll let you keep it if you let us go."

Rosa examined the dagger's blade, smiling at her reflection. She tilted the knife back and forth, trying to find the perfect angle.

"But then I wouldn't have anyone to talk to." She peered at Camila with dark, golden eyes. "And I'd be lonely."

On the small television screen in front of them, a short video began to play, outlining the exits in case of emergency. The flight attendants walked up and down the aisle, stopping to check that tray tables were upright and carry-ons concealed from view. A man behind them asked for a plastic bag in a mumbled, faintly ill, tone.

"Of course!" The flight attendant chirped. "I'll be with you in a moment."

The engines whirred, the seats vibrating with power. Camila wanted to clutch the armrest, to reassure herself that she was safe, but her hands stayed stubbornly at her sides. Her body shuddered limply without her control.