The Queen’s favorite mirror stood at her side, along with a thin old woman with milk-white hair at the other.
In front of the panthers, three steps down, stood Shew’s birthday cake, three feet high, all white like a wedding cake, topped with dark chocolate with red cherries scattered on top.
On both sides of the red carpet leading to the throne, stood a number of peasant girls. They were young, ripe, and beautiful.
The girls were the first to break the tension and welcome Shew with their eyes, standing firm in their place, somehow afraid to move because of Carmilla. They had their hands laced behind their backs and heads bowed down a little, wearing their own poor dresses.
Immediately, Shew scanned the girls, looking to see if Cerené was among them. A sigh of relief escaped her when she didn’t find her. It made sense. The Queen wouldn’t sacrifice the Phoenix’s blood, no matter what.
Shew knew all these girls were going to be slaughtered and the Queen was going to swim in their blood. Finally, Shew broke the tense silence by stepping into the chamber.
The girls started clapping and Sirenia Lark, the Queen’s favorite singer, started humming while playing her magical harp. Sirenia was a siren who Carmilla had met on her journey with Angel, escaping Night Sorrow. She used to lure men with her voice and eat their flesh. The Queen liked that.
Shew walked among the girls, tenderly glancing at them one by one.
You have to save those girls, Shew.
When she reached the three steps before the panthers, Carmilla signaled for her to stop. The Queen stood up slowly, and the girls held their breath, pulling their feet together and adjusting their dresses.
Carmilla’s presence sucked the air out of the room; even Sirenia held her breath and stopped playing the harp. The two panthers jumped up straight from their eternal sleep and padded slowly next to the Queen as she descended from her throne.
Carmilla walked as if she were a panther herself. Even the sunshine disappeared where she laid her foot on the floor, pretending a horde of clouds had blocked its path, leaving the candlesticks to provide the light.
Carmilla’s hair floated over her shoulders as she walked. She stopped before Shew.
“You’re a princess now,” Carmilla said in a voice submerged in womanhood. “Being sixteen,” Carmilla followed, not bowing down to face her daughter. “It’s a special day for you, Shew,” she stretched her long arms to hold Shew by the shoulders, then hesitantly knelt down and hugged her. “But before celebrating, we need to weigh your heart one more time. Dame Gothel!” She summoned the woman with milk-white hair.
“Majesty,” Dame Gothel paid her respects.
“Did you weigh all the girls’ hearts?” Carmilla asked.
“All but one, majesty,” Dame Gothel said.
“Then weigh it here in front of us before we weigh Shew’s heart,” Carmilla demanded and returned to her throne.
Shew heard the girls whisper something so she took some steps back, trying to listen. She heard them mention that in order for the Queen to swim in a girl’s blood and benefit from it, the peasant’s heart had to weigh twenty-one grams. This, or the Queen wouldn’t slaughter the girl but would keep her for later.
So that’s why she wants to weigh my heart. Unless mine is twenty-one grams, it’s no use to her. Why twenty one grams?
Shew watched as Dame Gothel laid a peasant girl on a special table with a scale underneath. The girl resisted for a moment but gave up eventually, intimidated by Bloody Mary’s voice, cursing her from the mirror.
“Could you explain out loud how the weighing process goes, Dame Gothel,” Carmilla demanded. “We’ve never told Shew about the process before,” Carmilla followed.
She wondered if they had sedated her before they weighed her heart in the past.
“But of course, majesty,” Dame Gothel sounded neutral. She didn’t sneer or try to look evil. She was doing her job. “First, we let the girl eat the Sanguinaccio cake,” Dame Gothel pulled a cake heavily topped with white cream and showed it to Shew. “It’s a rare recipe from Italy, an exotic land beyond the Missing Mile.”
“Shew already knows about the shoe-shaped island,” Carmilla nodded at her daughter. “Continue, please.”
“Before we feed the cake to the girl, we have to cut her arm slightly,” Dame Gothel made one of her servants cut the girl’s arm with small knife, collecting the drops of blood into a cup, which looked a little bit like Cerené’s, only it wasn’t glass. Dame Gothel took the blood and spattered it upon the Sanguinaccio cake as if pouring sugar on a pie. “Now the cake is ready for the girl to eat,” Dame Gothel said. “But first we have to check the girl’s weight on the scale underneath the table,” she explained. “And then I will feed her the Sanguinaccio cake,” she let the girl only take a bite from it. The girl fell asleep instantly.
“And what happens when she eats the cake?” Carmilla said.
“She dies,” Dame Gothel said bluntly, pulling out a snake from somewhere under the table.
“What?” Shew took a step forward but stopped when Dame Gothel waved the snake at her. “You can’t do that!” Shew grunted.
“Don’t mind my daughter, Dame Gothel. Continue,” Carmilla waved her hand as permission to proceed.
“Now, we check the weight of the scale underneath the bed,” Dame Gothel said.
“Explain why to my daughter,” Carmilla said.
“The weighing of the heart is actually the weighing of the soul,” Dame Gothel began. “The soul, or the Ka, how ancients like to call it, is a mystery even to the greatest wizards and mentors. We don’t know how it looks like, how it smells, or even what it really does. But we knows that it’s somewhere in the heart. The soul leaves the body when it dies, and thus the body ways less. The difference between the weight of the body before and after death equals the weight of the soul. If it’s twenty one grams, then the girl is ready for sacrifice. I see the difference isn’t twenty one grams yet for this one, majesty,” Dame Gothel pointed at the poor girl on the bed.
“This is crazy,” Shew protested. “She’s dead. What good is it if you know how much her heart weighs?”
“Within forty two minutes after she dies from biting the cake, she still can be resurrected,” Dame Gothel said. “Do you want me to resurrect her, majesty?”
“Please do,” Carmilla authorized.
Dame Gothel tapped her snake’s head before it spat poison into the girl’s face. Unlike the usually deadly poison, this one brought the girl back to life.
The servants helped the girl sit back up and leave the room.
Carmilla gazed back at Shew with a slight smug smile on her face. Shew got the message. Carmilla was giving her a choice. Either swim in the girls’ blood or fully turn into a vicious vampire, part of the Sorrow’s family, or Carmilla would have to rip out her heart. Of course, she couldn’t rip Shew’s heart out unless it was twenty one grams, which meant she had to have her heart weighed now.
Shew glanced back briefly. The chamber was a huge ambush. A couple of huntsmen stood by the door behind her, and she guessed others waited for her outside if she managed to escape. She had nowhere to go.
“What do you say, princess?” Carmilla said. “You could stay one of the Sorrows, surrender to your nature and family ties, or you could be stupid enough to think you’re the Chosen One.”
Shew’s only hope was to allow Dame Gothel to weigh her soul and hope it weighed less than twenty-one grams. What would happen if it weighed enough? All Carmilla had to do was prevent Dame Gothel from bringing her back with the snake’s bite.