The River of Reversal is a short story set in the world of S.G. Prince’s To Poison a King and will introduce you to Selene as she was in childhood, before she makes the mistake that changes her life, when her father was her hero and there was still time for stories. This tale can be enjoyed as a standalone and is intended to be read as a prequel to the full length novel. More information on To Poison a King can be found at sgprince.com/books.  

For Barnaby. We miss you, little putts.

   The girl had cut her hand.

   It was not the injury that worried her father. The child worked with knives and was frequently nicking herself, absorbed as she so often was in some new experiment. She would come to Aegeis, hold out the appendage as if it did not belong to her, blood welling like a jewel. He would gently scold her for being careless, though he knew such reprimands achieved little. Already, the girl’s hands were so crisscrossed with scars it was impossible to tell one from the next—understandable, given her line of work. She was a healer and potion maker both, destined to one day take her place as the royal physician. Distractable, yes, and accident prone, but so he had been, as a child. She would do a fine job when the time came. She was born for it.

   What worried Aegeis was how taken his daughter was with her craft. Surely it was not normal for a girl of only seven to shun the outside world in favor of her studies. Selene cared little for toys or friends. If she stepped out of doors, it was to harvest herbs. If she spoke to others, it was to relay instructions regarding tonics, creams, brews. This kind of single-minded devotion was prized by the crown, and Queen Mother Althea surely looked favorably upon Selene’s servitude, but Aegeis did not want his daughter to lose herself to service. Not yet. Not like this.

    “Father,” said Selene, waving the injury before him, “won’t you help me?”  

    “Of course, child.”

   Aegeis sat his daughter on their kitchen table. He pulled out the bandages, which were stored within easy reach, for how often they were needed.

   Maybe Aegeis had been wrong. Maybe Selene was not as unaffected by the injuries as he believed, because as he began dabbing a salve onto the cut, he realized she was holding her breath.

    “Does it sting?” he asked.

    “No.”

    “You can tell me if it stings.”

    “It doesn’t.”

   But Selene’s lips were thin with restraint, and Aegeis hated to see it, hated that it was necessary, that his daughter was promised to a life of this, of bloodying her hands and foraging in the woods and bending herself to the care of others. She would never be a lady, would never dress in finery or attend galas or enjoy candied tarts in the drawing room with other young women.

   She does not want those things, Aegeis reminded himself.

   Shouldn’t she want those things?

   And so his worry began anew.

    “What if,” Aegeis said as he stoppered the salve and unrolled a length of gauze, “I tell you a story to take your mind off the pain?”

    “I said it didn’t—”

    “I know what you said, child.”

   Selene was quiet a moment. She was a tiny thing. Dark hair, big eyes, all elbows and knees. She looked younger than her age…until she spoke. Then it was like speaking to a mirror. “Will you tell me the story of the Spider Lady’s Vengeance?”

   Aegeis’ gaze snapped up. “What?”

    “Mother began the tale last night. We were interrupted. I would like to know how it ends.”

   Now it was Aegeis who had to hide his feelings. The Spider Lady was a merciless assassin who killed her enemies with coldblooded efficiency. The story was gruesome in its detail; it was no fiction for a child. What had Persaphe been thinking, choosing such a tale? “That is not a happy story.”

    “I’m old enough.”

    “That’s beside the point.”

    “But,” Selene pressed, undaunted, “I can already guess how it ends. I just want to know for sure.” When Aegeis remained silent, she ventured, “Did you know spider’s venom can be mixed with woodwheat to create poison?”

   His voice was still too sharp. “Did your mother tell you that, too?”

   “No. I just…know it.”

   It should not have made Aegeis’ heart race to hear his daughter speak thus. Selene was gifted with potions. Her knowledge of herblore rivaled that of the most accomplished healers, though perhaps knowledge did not quite grasp the scope of what Selene could do. Her gift was…uncanny. Often, the child need only envision a new ointment or draught, and the required ingredients would spring to her mind, ready for her waiting hands. Selene had invented many medicines this way. She had saved lives. Yet what did it mean that the girl’s thoughts were turning to poison?

   That was Persaphe’s doing, no doubt. Aegeis’ wife had been planting ideas in Selene’s head with stories of the Spider Lady’s Vengeance. Aegeis would speak to Persaphe. It was entirely inappropriate to tell such tales, especially given the current political climate. Their country was, after all, still reeling from the untimely death of their very own king…

   Aegeis set aside the gauze. “I have a different story in mind. One you will like better.”  

   Selene no longer looked tensed with pain. She touched three fingers to her newly bandaged wound, then tucked the fingers under her thigh. “All right.”

    “Once,” said Aegeis, “there was a young prince.”

    “What was his name?”

    “Hush,” her father said. “Once there was a young prince who ruled over a bountiful country.”

    “That would make him a king,” said Selene, then cupped her free hand over her mouth at her father’s look.

    “The prince was well loved by his people,” Aegeis continued, with emphasis this time, to prevent any further interruption. “He was kind and fair, and he listened with both ears, not only to his chambermen and councilors, but also to the most modest laborers, the fieldworkers, the beggars. The bards wrote songs of their prince’s goodness, and these were sung far and wide, so all might know how his subjects honored him. For while the prince was wealthy, and powerful—and yes, even handsome—he was the envy of no man, because everything he could share, he did.”

    “Of no man,” Selene stressed, and her father smiled.

    “In those days, the fae walked among us. These were creatures of a powerful nature, given to trickery and whim. Some of the fae were allies to humans; some wished to be left alone. And some were envious, for humans possessed the noblest of traits, love and loyalty and friendship, whereas the fae had only magic. A mighty magic it may have been, and potent, but no less singular.”

    “I would not mind possessing magic,” Selene offered.

   You already do, thought Aegeis. “Over love and friendship?” he asked instead, and was instantly afraid of the answer. “As the bards’ songs of their prince spread through the land,” he hurried on, “they reached the ears of not only humans but also the fae and, eventually, the Fae King.

    “What you must understand is whatever treacherous traits a normal faery possessed, the Fae King suffered them tenfold, for he was magic embodied. He heard the song about a human prince who was good and fair and kind to all, and this made the Fae King curl with jealousy, for he knew only how to rule with violence and fear. The songs must lie, thought the Fae King. No man is so endlessly good, and I will prove it.

    “That night, the Fae King ventured into the winter village nestled beside the ocean near the prince’s palace. He made himself invisible; he was a breath of wind, a flurry of snow. Soon, he came upon a young maiden walking alone. She was poor. Her cloak was thin. Yet she was hardworking, and spent long days selling foodstuffs at the market to earn the money needed to care for her sick nephew. The Fae King smiled a private sort of smile, then bore down on the maiden, buffeting her in a gale of wind and sleet. The blizzard was furious, blinding, and cold enough that the maiden felt its chill touch her very heart.

    “Yet as quickly as the storm appeared, it was gone. The maiden clutched her arms around herself. Icicles clung to her eyelashes. She rose unsteadily to her feet, and though she was shaken, she seemed otherwise unharmed. With a final bewildered glance down the dark road, she hurried home.

    “The following morning dawned blue and clear—a fine day for work. Yet rather than gathering her goods and setting off for the market, the maiden found herself trudging up the road toward the prince’s palace. She did not understand it; where were her feet taking her? And why, when she attempted to turn back, did her legs refuse to obey? The maiden thought back to last night’s strange storm. Her mouth tightened with fear. The palace was a magnificent structure, gilded and gleaming, the largest of its kind. No place, surely, for a commoner without invitation. Yet the maiden’s feet brought her straight through the front doors and—to her growing dismay—into the stateroom where the prince occupied his throne.

    “The prince was surprised by the sight of the young woman; this was not the normal hour for public hearings, and the maiden had arrived unannounced. Yet he did not turn her away.”

    “Because she was beautiful,” Selene guessed.

   Her father arched a brow. “Perhaps that was part of it, but really, it was because of the prince’s kindhearted nature. The maiden seemed distressed; she was nearly in tears. The prince would not reject someone in such clear need of help.

    “The maiden attempted to apologize, to explain that she must be suffering some sort of madness—she was not yet ready to say the word curse—but rather than form these regrets, she began telling the prince about her beloved cow, who was growing old and would soon fail to produce milk. The maiden’s face burned as her mouth prattled on, seemingly against her own will. Why was she telling such a story to His Royal Highness? Why could she not stop herself? And so it was in this way the maiden came to understand the manner of her misfortune. Cursed by a winter storm on a dark night, she was compelled to take advantage of the prince’s goodness and bring all her problems before him.”

    “All of them?” Selene asked.

    “All of them,” Aegeis said, “no matter how insignificant. If she stubbed her toe; if she muddied her skirts or burned the bread, she must make the day-long trek to the prince’s palace and state her complaints. And all the while, the Fae King watched and waited from the shadows. Soon, the Fae King thought, the prince will grow weary of such a tenacious commoner. He will lash out, perhaps engage in public humiliation, and let the bards sing about that.

    “Yet the prince never did. Though the maiden came nearly every day, he showed no hint of exasperation or annoyance. Rather, he listened to her problems and solved them when he could. He sent medicine for her sick nephew; he offered her better work with higher pay. He seemed, almost, to be enjoying himself.”

   Aegeis hesitated. He wondered if maybe he had chosen the wrong tale after all, for how could he tell his daughter the rest? How the prince came to cherish the maiden’s visits, for she spoke freely, as no one else dared in his presence. How they began to know each other. The prince learned the maiden’s favorite foods, the names of her nephew and sister, her dreams of one day owning her own bakery. Every afternoon, he went early to his stateroom and waited for her. He loved the moment she appeared. When she did, the air seemed to turn sheer with promise.

    “Then what?” Selene prompted.

    “They grew close,” Aegeis said.

    “They fell in love.”

    “Yes, I suppose they did. But this only made the Fae King furious. His plan was not working. It was, in fact, backfiring.

    “One evening when the maiden arrived home from the palace, she found a note tacked to her door, written in ink so black, it seemed made from the night sky itself. Though the message contained only four words, it chilled her. You will ruin him. The maiden’s fists tightened. She knew her daily visits to see the prince had begun to spur rumors. Some could be heard whispering that the prince was shirking his duties in favor of spending time with his mysterious new village girl. The note was upsetting, yet it said nothing the maiden did not already fear. She pulled the missive from the door and folded it carefully. She knew what she must do.

    “The following day, the prince arrived to his stateroom, but the maiden did not appear. The day grew late; the sun drew shapes across the floor. The prince’s heart sickened with worry.

    “He sent his men out to find her. After a short while, they returned looking distinctly unsettled. The men reported that the maiden had locked herself in her cottage. She seemed to have done so against her own will. Her fingers were bloodied from trying to escape her self-made prison. There were scratch marks on the door.

    “At first, the prince could not fathom its meaning. Then understanding began to dawn. He knew the maiden’s daily visits were unusual; he saw how she sometimes seemed to war with herself, as if battling some hidden compulsion. How had he never thought to question it? Was he so blinded by his own feelings he’d overlooked the obvious? The prince knew the fae walked among his people. He knew they liked to meddle.

    “The prince rode alone into the woods where the fae were said to dwell. The trees were silent; the earth was winter-bare. He spoke into the empty space. ‘I would meet the one who cursed my fair maiden.’

    “The woods stood still. The prince heard nothing but his own haggard breathing.

    “‘And so the Good Prince comes at last.’ The voice bore down from every direction. ‘Let me guess. Your maiden suffers. You wish me to undo her curse.’

    “The Fae King struck the forest, tall and bright and sudden-cold. His cape brushed the earth; his eyes glowed like twin moons. He carried no weapons, for swords and arrows were beneath him—the Fae King was himself a weapon, icy and steel-sharp.

    “‘The maiden is innocent,’ replied the prince. His hair stood on end. All the creatures of the forest had fled. ‘She deserves no place in your schemes. If you wish to engage me, have the courage to do so directly.’

    “But the Fae King only smiled. ‘How does it feel, knowing your maiden never truly cared for you? All this time, she only visited because my curse compelled her to do so.’

   “This was cruel. The prince tried to speak calmly. ‘She loves me, curse or no curse.’

    “‘Are you sure?’

    “The prince was not sure. He recalled how the maiden had locked herself in her own home. Bloodied nails on the back of a barred door. He swallowed and stood taller. ‘Please, release her.’

    “‘If I agree, what will you give me in return?’

    “‘Anything you ask,’ the prince answered automatically. ‘Anything within my ability to provide.’

    “‘Then I would have your soul.’

    “The prince looked at the Fae King. This was a creature who knew no compassion. He would destroy their entire kingdom if it suited him, yet what choice did the prince have? It did not matter whether the maiden loved him. He could never live peacefully while another suffered; this had always been his nature. And so the prince, who was heartbroken, and had spent his life sacrificing all he could for others, agreed.”

   In some versions of the tale, the Fae King brought the prince into the Otherworld, and tortured him before an audience, and stole his soul that way. “The Fae King touched his hand to the prince’s chest and pulled his soul right from his heart,” said Aegeis. “The prince believed giving up his soul meant giving up his life, yet that night in the forest, he did not die. Rather, his body began to wither and hunch. His skin turned to scales; his hair fell from his head. His bones widened, twisted, fingers lengthening to claws. He was alive…yet not. In that final moment before the transformation was complete, the prince understood. There was only one true fate for a man without a soul. The prince had become a demon.”

    “I am not afraid of demons,” put in Selene.

   Her father only nodded. “Back in the village, the maiden was pacing her cottage when she realized she no longer felt the urge to rush to the prince’s palace and enumerate her problems. At first, she was overjoyed. The curse was broken. But—the curse was broken? How? Who could have done it? As the maiden’s joy began to morph into fearful suspicion, a knock came at her door. The maiden grabbed a rolling pin. Outside the window, the field was covered in frost. Whoever it is, she told herself, you must have courage.

    “The maiden unbarred the door and flung it open to reveal her sister and nephew standing in their nightclothes. The pair looked as if they had run the whole way. ‘Have you heard the news?’ the sister asked breathlessly. ‘A demon has taken up residence in the forest.’

   “‘What?’ The maiden inhaled sharply. ‘A demon?’

   “‘They say it is like no monster the world has ever seen. Its eyes are like fire; its body is covered in armored scales. And that’s not the worst of it. Sister, the prince ran off into the woods. No one can say why, but he had a terrible look about him, and the demon…they’re saying it killed the prince.’

    “The maiden stood frozen. ‘No. That cannot be true.’

    “‘There is proof. The demon took a trophy. It wears the man’s crown.’

    “The maiden wept then, for she recalled the letter on her door, written in ink like the night: a faery letter. You will ruin him. She had believed the missive meant to warn her to stay away or else she would ruin the prince, but it seemed the letter was not a warning at all. It was a foretelling. ‘Please,’ the maiden whispered into the empty air after her sister and nephew departed, lighting sage and lifting her hands toward the Goddess in prayer. ‘Please, if there is a way to save him, if there is a way to undo what has been done, I will do it. I will do anything.’

    “A tap came at the window. The maiden’s head snapped up; fragrant smoke drifted around her. She flung open the shudders to discover an old woman standing in the bushes beneath her sill. Or…a figure who seemed an old woman. The maiden was not sure, truly, what she beheld. The visitor had pale eyes. Or were they black? Her skin was wrinkled. Or was it smooth?

    “‘If you wish to undo what has been done,’ said the old woman in a voice that seemed to reverberate inside the maiden’s mind, ‘you must take your prince to the River of Reversal.’

    “‘Do you mean,’ the maiden asked, ‘I must carry his corpse to the River?’

    “‘No. You must take the man.’

    “‘I cannot,’ the maiden replied, and could not keep the disappointment from her tone. ‘He is dead.’

    “‘Is he?’

    “The maiden stared. She thought of her broken curse. She thought of old legends, and the prince’s kind nature, and a demon wearing a crown. ‘Has the prince…has the prince become the demon?’ The maiden felt suddenly ill. ‘That is how he broke my curse, isn’t it? Somehow, he sacrificed himself to free me.’

   “‘Once you find the River,’ the visitor replied, ‘your prince must step into it fully to undo the transformation.’

   “‘How?’ the maiden asked fiercely. ‘How do I get there?’

   “‘I will explain this only once. You must listen closely.’”

   Selene had grown quiet; her eyes were big. Aegeis explained how the visitor, who was of course the Goddess, gave the maiden a special compass to guide her journey, detailing the route she must travel and the dangers she would face. After, the maiden ventured into the forest, alone, unarmed. The demon-prince tried to attack her, yet stopped when she laid a kiss upon his ghastly forehead. It was a simple act that awakened the man inside the monster, allowing him to quell his vicious ways enough to follow her to the River of Reversal. The pair faced many trials on their journey, leviathans, cyclops, the Hounds of Sundown. More than once, they nearly lost their lives. Yet through each challenge, the maiden and demon persevered with only their wits and each other.

    “Did the prince ever attack her again?” Selene asked.

    “Never,” Aegeis said. “As the days slipped by, the demon began to remember more and more of his human form. He could not speak—his mouth was all teeth—but his thoughts slowly became his own again. And with each challenge defeated, his love for the maiden grew, for she alone had seen the man inside the monster, and risked her life to save him.”  

   Aegeis paused, recalling what came next. When the pair at last reached the River of Reversal, the maiden took the demon’s clawed hands in hers. She told him she loved him, no matter his form. Tears came to the demon’s eyes, for the Fae King’s merciless taunting had haunted him, and he’d never known her true feelings. She loves me, he thought. She loves me, too.

   So overcome was the prince that he did not notice the maiden’s own tears. He did not hear her whisper goodbye.

   The maiden gave a final, wrenching cry and pushed the demon-prince into the River. The water sucked him in and began to glow. The prince’s sharp teeth receded; his bones shrunk to their normal size. When the River finally released its captive and the prince stepped from the water, he was whole again. Yet the maiden could not rejoice, because she remembered the Goddess’ final words to her, which she had carried in secret. The River does not discriminate. It will draw the prince back in time, reversing not only the changes to his body, but to his mind as well. His memories will be undone. He will forget you.

   The maiden knew it the moment the prince met her eye—he did not recognize her. She was to him a stranger.

   The prince stumbled up the bank, wet, shaking. His expression was one of bewildered fear. Who are you? he demanded, pointing at the maiden. Why am I here? What have you done to me?

   You were cursed, the maiden tried to explain. I have been helping you.

   Liar. Get back. I want you nowhere near me.

   The maiden turned away. This, too, the Goddess had warned—it was futile to try to explain herself, for even if the prince understood, he was still royalty, and she only a common girl. There would be no chance to rekindle the flame of their love now that their curses were broken; their lives were destined to continue apart. The prince had sacrificed himself to save the person he most loved, and in the end, the maiden had done the same.

   But Aegeis did not want to give his daughter that version, so he did something he swore he never would, and lied. “When the demon stepped into the River’s waters, the curse was reversed. He emerged a man again. He and the maiden were overjoyed. They returned to their kingdom together and lived happily.”

   Selene was frowning. She picked at the bandage. Aegeis thought maybe his daughter sensed something amiss about the story, yet instead she said, “The maiden…it wasn’t her fault, was it? For what the Fae King did?”

    “No.”

    “But she suffered.” 

    “A little, yes, while the curse had its hold, and compelled her to do its bidding. But she was released.”

   Another pause. “Am I the maiden in the story?”

   Aegeis studied his daughter. “What do you mean?”

    “She was forced to do the Fae King’s bidding. She had no choice.”

    “Is that how you feel?” Aegeis asked. “Like you are forced to do our king’s bidding?”

   Selene’s eyes were wide. “Aren’t I?”

    “Of course not,” Aegeis said briskly. Yet he was unsettled. He wished he had chosen a different story. “Your position is one of high demands, but you are not a prisoner. You have command of your own life, child.”

   Later, when Selene’s mother set poisoned medicine into the girl’s hands, and ordered she deliver it to their young king, the father would dream of a River to go back in time; he would pray for a way to undo what had been done. He would remember these final words to his daughter, and wish they were true: “You always have a choice.”

   He tucked the bandaging supplies back in the cupboard for next time, helped Selene down off the table, and sent her on her way.

Enjoyed this short story? Read the full novel!

The River of Reversal is a short story set in the world of S.G. Prince’s To Poison a King and takes place six years before Selene’s world falls apart, when her father was still her hero, and there was time for stories. If you enjoyed this short prequal, be sure to check out the full length novel by following this link.