Dusk

I scratched the fifty-sixth tally mark over the leaf. The sound of the roaring river was inescapable. It was on the edge of the new palace, now, and I would have to leave in the next morning. Lady Hen, Madame Piff, and I had already started moving things to a stack of discarded wood we’d placed out in one of the last dry places. By the time we found the wood again, our food was missing. The wood was splintered into sizzling bits. I counted the tallies once more. There wasn’t enough ink left for tomorrow’s tally. It was the day I’d be allowed to stop counting, anyway. I wouldn’t be looking, again, at the journal by then.

The ground was false, now, and yet, it was more firm than ever. The ceiling was a little lower. Little, hissing droplets fell from it now, stinging against my scalp and shoulders. Mr. Sky had lost his hair, his head was covered in a patchwork of red and white blisters. He didn’t seem to notice. Madame Piff’s shoulders had been torn raw by the dripping acid. They refused to heal, and it was a miracle infection hadn’t taken them yet.

I walked out to the edge of the river. It splashed toward me as soon as I neared, almost like it knew I was there. It belched and growled and at once it beckoned. It had never been so aggressive before, and somehow the orange light of the fire glands reflected off the rabid bubbling foam like a constellation. It was no less soothing than the night sky.

I crossed my legs and sat beside it, just far enough that its errant splashes wouldn’t catch me. Another day. I balanced my scepter in my lap and held my hand out to the river like I was coaxing a puppy. “Are you still listening?” Bubbles had been all but silent the last several days. She wouldn’t yell out the day as proudly as before. Now, she moped. She would spit out that another day had passed while complaining about something else. It was too cold in the Northern Wastes. We were being too noisy.

“Why do you care?” She huffed.

“The last day, that’s tomorrow. You already know who.”

“I don’t want it to be the last day.”

“You promised us.”

She whined, “I don’t mean that, Fawn! I don’t mean letting them go!” As she spoke, the river rose and fell in a wide crest. I stumbled back away from the riverbank as the foam encroached almost to the very edge. Some still splashed over my toes. I yelped as it did.

“I’ll miss you,” I said softly.

“Do you think you’re going somewhere?” She forced herself to giggle, “Fawn, you’re my breakfast.”

“No, Bubbles.”

“Why is everyone around town so glum? It’s making me feel worse. Fawn, I’m not supposed to feel anything.”

I looked into the middle of the river. It had once been a pitiful stream, barely deep enough for me to dip my hand into. The little scar under my fingernail was still there. “I’m less regal now than I was when I first got here- when I was alone here. I like these people. I thought I hated you, now I don’t.”

“Hate, no. Fawn, I love you,” she burped.

I held my breath, “You too.”

I excused myself and went back to the Palace. The river, running against the crystal side had already begun to tear through the bottom of the wall. I was afraid it would collapse. The first floor had broken apart completely, the very diamond being melted away by the caustic ground. Lady Hen was grabbing the last of her things to leave. She saw me, “Fawn…”

I adjusted the tiara on my head. Some of the jewels had been damaged by the falling acid, but the ivory dragon centerpiece was unblemished. I walked past her into my room, keeping myself from giving off any obvious expression. When I came back downstairs, just a moment later, I had a little bit of tea. I’d saved it for more than a month, and now, it was the last tea in all of Dragontown, “Do you want to have some with me? Just tonight?”

“Ye know I don’t like the taste of tea.”

“You’ll like it this time. Just this once.”

Lady Hen forced a smile, “I’ll try it again with ye, Fawn,” she swallowed, “if I’d be saying no, I may be hating that I did someday. That I could ne’er say yes again.”

It was a dark, strong tea that stung my taste buds when I first sipped it. There was a hint of earthy nuts in it that expanded at the back of the tongue. What was bitter became robust, and in another moment, it was gone. The aftertaste was softer, a lingering sourness.

Lady Hen flinched as she tasted hers. Her lips hung open slightly, and she breathed sharply through them. Her eyes wrinkled shut. Her hand shook as she set the teacup down. “Your Majesty… I wish ye could come with us.”

I dropped my cup. The tea spilled over my lap. I sighed as I saw the cup on its side, “That was the last tea in the world.”

She pushed her cup in front of me, “Here. I still don’t like it much.”

I held it so tightly I thought I might crush the ivory cup in my bare hands, “I’m afraid… I mean- I wish I could go with you, too.”

“What did ye think you were going to be doing before the end of the world?”

“When I was little, it seemed impossible. When I was here, it felt distant- a nightmare that would never come. Now, I wish I had more tea.”

I pondered sleeping in my own bed one last time. I figured there would be no harm in it. Madame Piff scolded me. She insisted that if the tower collapsed the night before the last day, that I would be the one to blame for it. I had to live for one more day, and I would be permitted no more. I didn’t dare sleep on the ground itself. We moved some of the last stone into place, and I lay on it with Lady Hen and Falcon beside me. It could have been my own bed, and I’d not have slept a wink. Lady Hen was awake most the night, also, but we didn’t dare say anything to each other. I wondered how the baby slept so easy.

Then came the morning. Bubbles announced the last day not with a holler, but a whisper. The palace did fall to pieces as Madame Piff had predicted. Shards of diamond clashed across the ground and were quickly overtaken by the rising river. It had proceeded another halfway to the edge overnight. It would have everything to itself before midnight.