Free Cobweb Bride by Vera Nazarian Page B

appeared out of nowhere in Her Majesty’s bedchamber, just at the moment when she appeared to be going at last. But there was no sense of wickedness emanating from him, no deviltry. It seemed he was merely— not there .”
    “He spoke  . . .” said Lucia.
    “Yes, yes,” Grial interrupted suddenly. “Death was asking for his Cobweb Bride. I know all about that.”
    “How did you—” began the Prince.
    “Oh, it’s all over the markets and the streets,” Grial said with a chuckle. For some reason such an ordinary thing as a chuckle seemed to lighten considerably the psychic thundercloud that had come to press upon them at the memory of the dark being of the night before.
    “It seems, some guard or servant talked to their cousin or sister or two . . . or three. And now everybody’s talking about what happened in the Palace, Your Highnesses. Everyone’s wondering whether it’s really Death that he was, or merely a bad scary dream that somehow happened to a crowd of tired people gathered ’round a deathbed.”
    “It wasn’t a dream,” the Prince said coldly.
    “Oh, there’s no doubt it was real,” Grial said.
    “So then  . . . you think he really was there? Death was there in the mortal flesh?” Lucia said.
    “Who else? Not the Headless Horseman, that’s for sure.” Grial snorted. She rubbed her nose with the back of one hand, then rubbed her palms together, and finished the gesture by wiping them on the apron front of her dirt-covered dress.
    “Then what do you suggest we do?” the Prince said, watching her movements with distaste and irritation. “We have no understanding of his demands. I’ve asked my advisors, consulted with the archbishop himself. Who or what is this Cobweb Bride? Where is she? How do we satisfy him? And is it indeed true that he, Death, has somehow suspended the natural act of dying of Her Majesty?”
    Grial arched one dark brow and craned her head to the side so that her mane of frizzy hair spilled forward along one shoulder. Still craning her head she raised a hand and suddenly pointed a finger at the ceiling. “What’s that?” she said.
    The Prince and Princess followed her finger and craned their necks to stare up at some gilded frieze work and ornate crown molding near the ceiling. “Where? What?” they both asked.
    “That’s what I mean,” Grial said with a satisfied smile and dropped her hand.
    The Prince and his royal consort stared at her in complete confusion.
    “I know as much as all that,” replied Grial. “My point is, Your Highnesses, you can only comply with what Death seems to be demanding from you—indeed, from the whole world—in plain speech. He says he wants a Cobweb Bride. So, you must do all within your power to give him one.”
    She paused, watching them meaningfully. “Think, what is within your power? Why, the ability to command your subjects. So, command away. Tell them all that Death wants a Cobweb Bride. Tell them that, since obviously a Bride is a woman, and as a common rule rather young, then all the young women of the Kingdom need to pay heed. Now, Death mentioned something about a Keep in the Northern Forests, didn’t he?”
    “Why, yes, I believe he did!” Princess Lucia exclaimed.
    “Well then, so we have at least that much. Death’s a gentleman, and indeed, since he takes all of us and all of what is ours in the end, he must have amassed quite a fortune—enough to buy a Keep or ten, not to mention a castle or a city or a whole realm, or all of them. Thus, we know where the Cobweb Bride must end up, after all is said and done. To the Keep she goes, lucky girl—well, not so much lucky, but you know what I mean,” Grial said.
    “Yes, I follow you  . . .” said the Prince pensively.
    “Don’t follow me, follow this track of thought, Your Highness,” Grial said. “And so, the next thing you must command of your people is that the young women—the ones who are willing , that is, for you are not one of those