Free The Island of Excess Love by Francesca Lia Block Page A

him.
    â€œWhat are you doing?”
    She looked up and stared at him again with her faintly shining eyes. “Witchcraft. Magic. What do you think I’m doing?”
    â€œI want to learn.”
    â€œYou don’t learn, it. You either have the gift or not.”
    â€œWhat are you going to do?”
    The three dogs, who had remained almost motionless, began to bay, as if at the full moon of her presence. “I’m going to change the world,” she said.
    She never did. Not even in the little ways that everyone does, except changing his world when she left it. The gift? He achieved it. But by then it was too late.
    *   *   *
    I recognize the young man from the twice-reoccurring image in my head, especially the wide-set pale eyes. The only difference is that the crown of antlers he wears doesn’t look like a crown. It appears that there are actual antlers growing from his head.
    He’s like no one I’ve ever seen. There’s something predatory about his high cheekbones, arched eyebrows, and flared nostrils. My heart trembles in spite of itself. I’m usually not this susceptible to beauty, especially male beauty, but there is something about him that makes me feel urgent and unsteady. I glance at Hex but I can’t decipher what he’s thinking. There is no sign of Venice, Argos, Ez, or Ash.
    I try to stay focused on them, but instead all I can think about is the king. I’ve never been this seized by a vision of someone on our first meeting.
    I take a step back from the dais, wanting to make this vision go away. I don’t look at Hex but I can feel him watching me and I know his jaw and fists are clenched.
    â€œWhere is my brother?” I say, remembering why we are here. “Where are our friends?”
    The king keeps staring at me from under his eyebrows. His full lips spread, revealing the dangerous white points of his teeth. “Welcome, my queen” is all he says.

 
    9
    Â 
    THE KING
    Â 
    H EX STEPS FORWARD, seething. “We need to see our friends now.”
    The king smiles at him but his eyes are serious, sad even. “I’m sorry, Hexane. First you will bathe and dress. You will see your friends at the banquet tonight.”
    I reach for Hex’s arm but he shrugs me off and moves closer to the king. “So you have some tricks? Okay. You speak all fancy and shit, you know my name and you can make us see our dead bodies. You live in a pretty nice place considering the rest of the world has gone to shit as far as I can tell. But that doesn’t mean you can dick around with us.”
    The king’s lips curl as if he’s smelled something unpleasant. “I don’t appreciate that kind of language around my queen.”
    â€œWhat the fuck? And by the way? She’s not actually yours. She doesn’t belong to anyone. But if she did, homey? It would be me.”
    â€œPenelope,” the king says. “What do you have to say for this boy?”
    â€œI apologize,” I stammer, grasping the back of Hex’s shirt and tugging to signal for him to be quiet. “We’re both very tired and upset. If we could please just see Venice and Ez and Ash. And our dog, Argos?”
    â€œYou will, you will, but first I want you to be presentable. Storm, Dark, and Swift will show you to your chambers.” He nods at the bird women; I’d almost forgotten about them. Storm, Dark, Swift . Aello, meaning “storm-swift,” Celaeno, meaning “the dark,” and Ocypete, meaning “swift wing” or “swift-flying,” were the names of harpies in mythology. Harpies cursed Aeneas and his men on their way to what would later become Rome. I’m not surprised these women are named after the harpies, although they’re much more attractive than the original winged, bird-legged coven.
    The king seems to have a large amount of affectations at his fingertips, and on his brow if you count