Mother beamed, until she began to process his words. He’d only seen Zadie and me. Despite the implied slight to me, I almost giggled as her smile faltered.
“Prince Ceren is a lucky man,” Talin added, and I felt Sami stiffen beside me. “I cannot imagine anyone more lovely.”
But as he said it, his eyes drifted from Zadie to me. I glanced away, my scar burning as the blood rushed to my face, but the conversation resumed as though no one else had noticed.
“You eat very well,” Talin said. “This food is delicious.”
I cast a sharp look at Sami, willing him to stay quiet, but if he saw me, it wasn’t enough to stop him. “This is a very special occasion, my lord. I assure you that we don’t eat like this every day. Particularly not the average villager.”
Sami’s father leveled him with a gaze that accomplished what mine could not. Despite Sami’s feigned bravado, I couldn’t imagine him ever standing up to his father.
Talin cleared his throat to break the tension. “What is the population of Varenia?” he asked.
“Roughly five hundred,” Father answered. He helped keep track of our numbers for Governor Kristos. “We were nearly six hundred at one point, but the last few generations have seen our population shrinking.”
Talin’s brow furrowed. “Why is that?”
Father glanced at Kristos, as did Sami. They both knew the truth: that families were having fewer children because they couldn’t afford to feed them.
The governor bared his teeth in a smile that looked more like a grimace. “Our guest does not wish to hear about such things tonight. We are here to celebrate.” He reached for a pitcher of wine and filled the glasses, including Zadie’s and mine, then lifted his own and gestured for the rest of us to do the same. “Not only is our lovely Zadie to join you in Ilara soon, but our families have another reason to rejoice.”
The raised cup in my hand tipped dangerously as I realized what was happening.
Kristos turned to Sami and me. “To Nor and Samiel. Your coming union fills my heart with gladness. Now our two families will become one, as I’ve always dreamed. Thalos has blessed us all.” He raised his cup to his lips and drank, as did Mother, Father, Elidi, and Sami. But Zadie had turned to look at me, and I found myself paralyzed under her gaze.
Sami elbowed me gently. “Drink.”
“I—”
I gasped when Zadie’s eyes rolled back in her head and she listed over like a sack of grain. Everyone else moved to help her, but I remained frozen with shock until Sami reached for my hand.
I wriggled free of his grasp. “Not now,” I whispered.
Father helped Zadie onto her back, where she blinked up at the ceiling, her face drained of color.
“Is she all right?” Elidi asked as she looked around helplessly. “She’s not upset, is she?”
“Just breathe,” Father was saying to Zadie, who was taking in air like a fish out of water. “It’s going to be fine.”
Elidi turned to Mother. “Isn’t she happy for her sister?”
But Mother didn’t answer, just waved a paper fan over Zadie’s face uselessly.
The governor grabbed his son by the arm and hauled him to his feet. “What’s the matter with her?”
“There’s nothing the matter with her. She’s just surprised,” Sami said.
“Was there something going on between you two?” the governor hissed.
“Of course not,” Sami and Mother shouted at the same time.
I looked over at Talin, who had risen to his feet and stood silently watching us, momentarily forgotten by the others. When his eyes met mine, he lifted an eyebrow as if to say, And what do you make of all this?
I wondered how much he had overheard of my conversation with Sami. To me, his expression seemed to say, Everything.
“I’m fine,” Zadie said, forcing herself to sit. “I took too much sun today and haven’t had enough to drink. Can someone please bring me some water?”
Elidi rushed to the kitchen for a cup of water, sloshing it as she hurried back to Zadie. “There you are. It was awfully hot today, wasn’t it, Calliope?”
My mother murmured something under her breath and moved everyone out of the way so she could help Zadie to her feet. “You’re fine, aren’t you, Zadie?”
She nodded, but her eyes remained downcast. I could tell from her clenched jaw that she was fighting back tears and failing.
As everyone returned to the table, Talin lifted his cup again.
“To Nor and Samiel,” he said.
I drank this time, wincing as the liquid hit my tongue. It was much stronger than the watered-down wine from the celebration after the ceremony. Talin watched me over the rim of his cup, his eyes glittering with amusement. Next to me, Zadie lifted her cup to her lips and lowered it without sipping, without blinking or smiling. I wanted to tell her it wasn’t my fault, or Sami’s, that neither of us wanted this, but I couldn’t here.
Finally, when all of the plates had been picked clean, the adults excused themselves to speak out on the balcony.
Talin lingered. He wasn’t a man in the same way Father and Governor Kristos were, but he wasn’t a boy like Sami, either. I was about to take Zadie aside to talk when he stepped in front of me. I swallowed and glanced up, taking in the damp curls at his neck and temples. He must have been roasting underneath all that heavy fabric. It served him right for smirking at me.
“Congratulations on your engagement,” he said in a low voice. His accent didn’t have the sharp edge to it that the Ilarean men we met in the floating market had.
Thanking him felt too much like I was a willing participant in the betrothal, so I bowed my head instead. He stood so close to me that the hem of my gown nearly brushed his black boots. Contrasted with such a dark color, the red suddenly didn’t seem quite so gaudy.
“How are you enjoying your stay in Varenia?” I asked, my voice sounding small and childish to my ears. How unsophisticated must I seem to someone like Talin?
“I haven’t been here long,” he said. “Just a few hours. But the warmth and vibrancy of this place are like the break in a storm.”
I glanced back up, startled by his choice of words.
He must have read the confusion in my face, because he opened his mouth to speak again before I had a chance to respond.
“Talin, please join us,” Elidi called to him from the doorway.
He closed his mouth and bowed to me. “Please excuse me, my lady.”
Talin followed Elidi to the door, but paused on the threshold, glancing back at me and smiling softly. I turned away, blushing.
Zadie looked so small and alone at the table. Ashamed for talking to Talin when I should be with my sister, I rushed to her side, but she refused to acknowledge me.
“Sister, please, look at me.”
“You knew about this, and you didn’t tell me,” she said in a brittle voice.
“We just found out, and we were still hoping to talk them out of it. We had no idea they were planning on announcing it tonight.”
She arched an eyebrow. “We? You’re a ‘we’ now?”
I shot a look at Sami, who stood silently on Zadie’s other side. He tried to take her hand, but she pulled it back into her lap without looking at him.
“This wasn’t our choice, Zadie,” Sami said. “You know I’d marry you if I could. But you’re leaving.”
“You say that as if I want to,” she said, finally looking him in the eye. “Tell your father that you love me, that you want to marry me. He doesn’t have to send me to Ilara. He can send Alys. Or Nor.”
I flinched at her tone. “It wasn’t the governor’s choice. Besides, the emissary has seen you now. The elders can’t just say they’ve changed their minds.”
The tears finally spilled over her lashes and onto her cheeks. “Why not?”
&nbs
p; “You’re the most beautiful girl Varenia has ever known,” Sami said. “They couldn’t have chosen anyone else.”
“And yet you don’t want me.”
He ran a finger up Zadie’s cheek, catching her tears. I looked away, not wanting to bear witness to such an intimate gesture. “I’ve never wanted anything more than I want to marry you. We are all caught in the gods’ plans, like fish in the current.”
She clutched at his tunic. “Then swim against it. Change the plan. Don’t let them take me from you.”
He gathered her into him and rested his chin on the top of her head, and she sobbed against him, sadder than I’d ever seen her.
Anger and despair rose in me. This couldn’t be the gods’ plan for us. It all felt so wrong.
I went to the door at the back of the house and stepped onto the walkway, where I was immediately hit by a gust of hot wind. The red fabric of my dress whipped around my body, and my braids thrashed against my face. I placed my hands on the balustrade that had once belonged to Ilara’s ship and leaned into the wind, calling out my prayer to Thalos. But if he heard me, he had nothing to say in return.
* * *
Later, after we’d said our goodbyes to the governor and his family and returned home, Zadie lowered herself onto our bed and rolled away from me before I could say a word. I’d seen her take Sami’s hand earlier, when the grownups weren’t looking. She’d forgiven him, and yet she had not forgiven me. With only five days left together, I wondered how many I would lose to her anger. My hand hovered over her shoulder, but she only pressed farther away from me, so I retreated to my side of the bed, feeling my own anger kindle in the dark.
None of this had been my choice. She had to see that. She knew I didn’t love Sami, that I would have gone in her place if I could. Perhaps she just needed someone to blame—but I wished it didn’t have to be me.
I slept fitfully that night, at times too hot and at others too cold, kicking off my blanket and then reaching for it again. When I woke in the morning, stiff and exhausted, Zadie’s side of the bed was empty. I went to the balcony, expecting to find my twin, but she wasn’t there, either.
The sea was calm today, a dark gray-blue that faded into the horizon, where the lazy sun slowly crept its way out of the water. I had always loved watching the sun rise and set, the raw beauty of nature. But now my stomach turned in a way that was becoming all too familiar. The thought of a hundred more years of this same view was maddening.
I was about to rise and go back inside when I heard a noise from below the house. I crept to the edge of the balcony and peered over.
Sami and Zadie were in our boat, whispering.
I had opened my mouth to call out, Zadie’s name on the tip of my tongue, when Sami leaned forward. The next thing I knew, they were kissing.
For a moment, I just stared at the two of them. I’d seen people kiss before—mostly my parents, sometimes other young people at a festival or in a boat when they thought no one was looking. But this was my twin sister and Sami. And it wasn’t just a short kiss. They were still kissing.
I pulled myself back onto the balcony and pretended to watch the rest of the sunrise. If Zadie and Sami wanted to kiss, what difference did it make to me? I didn’t love Sami that way. I didn’t want to kiss him.
Then again, did I really want my sister kissing my future husband? I scowled and picked at a splinter in the wood. Mother would be horrified if she knew. Not that I would ever tell, but the fact remained. As much as I didn’t want my sister to leave Varenia, a small part of me was grateful there were only a few days left until her departure. I couldn’t go on like this.
Zadie must have come back up through the door, because a few minutes later, I heard her pad across the balcony behind me. A blanket settled over my shoulders as she dropped down next to me, resting her head in the crook of my neck, where she’d always fit perfectly. She smelled like wood smoke and sea salt and something distinctly Zadie. As our long legs dangled over the edge together, casting shadows on the water, I pushed away the thought that Sami might compare our scents one day, too.
Mother and Father were asleep and would remain that way for a while longer, judging by how much wine they’d had last night. My own head still felt fuzzy from the tiny bit I’d choked down.
“Nor.”
“Mmm?”
Zadie lifted her head from my neck, and the sudden absence of heat felt like a greater loss than it should. “I’m sorry about last night.”
“There’s nothing for you to be sorry for.”
“But there is. I was only thinking of myself, when you didn’t ask for this any more than I did. And if Sami has to marry someone else, I’m glad it’s you.”
I exhaled in relief. “Zadie.”
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry, too.”
“I know.”
We reached for each other’s hand at the same time, and I felt a warm tear slip out from my closed eyelids. How would I face all those sunrises and sunsets without her here? A part of me wished we could just take the boat and head north, toward Galeth. We could start a new life together there, where no one knew us, where our futures would be entirely our own. But I knew my sister would never run away from her duty, and I couldn’t ask that of her.
* * *
Later that day, when we saw Sami, I had a hard time looking at him. I’d always loved him, in the way I imagined I would have loved a brother if we’d ever had one. Mother and Father never mentioned it, but I suspected she was never able to have more children after us. It was just as well. I couldn’t imagine what she would have been like if she’d had more daughters.
As I watched Sami’s gaze repeatedly slip to Zadie, the corners of his lips twitching in a grin, I thought about their kiss and what it meant. I had seen boys look at Zadie that way before, and I often wondered what it must feel like to be the object of such attention.
Until last night. Now I recognized the look on Talin’s face—not a smirk, as I’d thought, but something more akin to admiration—and I had no idea what to make of it.
I imagined my appearance the first time he saw me, the way my wet tunic and skirts would have clung to the curves of my body. I wasn’t a child anymore, and I should have known better than to go to the governor’s house like that. Had my lack of modesty given him ideas? I flushed so hard at the thought that Zadie asked me if I was feeling unwell.
Maybe that was why he hadn’t stared at my scar; he’d been too distracted by the rest of me. But he hadn’t stared at it later, either, when I was appropriately clothed. His eyes hadn’t snagged on it once, at least not that I’d seen. Perhaps scars were simply not as reviled in Ilara as they were in Varenia. Still, with Zadie in the room, I couldn’t understand why his attention had continually strayed to me.
Could it be that, despite everything, Mother’s training had rubbed off on me? She had always taught us both to be feminine, to sweep our gazes down and to the side when someone praised us, a faint smile on our lips, to keep our clothing tailored and flattering, though never too tight.
Just because you weren’t born princesses, doesn’t mean you can’t act like them, she liked to say. Behave like royalty, and that is how you will be treated.
For all her faults, I had to give Mother credit. We had always been treated well by the other villagers, and of course by the governor’s family. That came partly from Father’s friendship with Kristos, starting when they were children themselves, but it was more than that. Mother presented us to the world as something as rare and beautiful as seaflowers, and that was what they saw.
I looked back at Sami and Zadie. He grinned like a fool as he watched her prepare our supper, his eyes following her every move. I’d seen Father risk his life searching shipwrecks for trinkets for Mother, just to watch her primp and preen in front of her mirror.
I wanted to believe that my value went beyond my bea
uty. I helped to feed our family; I cooked and repaired fishing nets; I made smart trades at the market. But it was Zadie who would bring in the bride price that would feed and clothe our family for years, all thanks to her beauty.
Beauty is power, Mother had told us time and time again, until the words rang as true as the sky is blue and water is wet. I didn’t want to believe that a woman’s worth was entirely defined by her appearance. But there was a small, nagging voice in my head that asked, What if Mother is right?
6
I didn’t have time to think about Talin—who had disappeared as quietly as he’d arrived—in the days that followed. I had to do extra chores so Zadie could sit for an artist. He was painting her portrait, which would be sent to Ilara ahead of her. I imagined it hanging next to the portraits of all the other Varenian girls who had been chosen. Had they wanted to go, or had they also had reasons to stay?
In the evenings, Zadie went through the few items in the trunk Father had built for her. The castle was at the foot of a mountain range where the weather was much colder, but Mother had insisted she take our finest clothing (including both Zadie’s pink dress and my red one), in addition to her tortoiseshell comb and a strand of white pearls Father had given Mother when they married. The trunk also contained the traveling cloak Sami had promised her, which he’d presented yesterday. It was made of plush green velvet, unadorned except for the brass button clasp at the neck.
“I’ve never felt anything so soft,” I said, stroking it gently.
“Perhaps the back of a stingray.”
“Yes, but that wouldn’t make nearly as nice of a cloak.”
Zadie’s smile was strained. “No, I suppose not.”
“What is it?” I asked. “I mean, I know what it is, but is there something in particular that’s bothering you? Something I could possibly help with?”
She sighed. “I know it’s foolish, but I keep thinking some kind of miracle will happen, that we’ll come up with a way to change all of this. It’s impossible, I know that. But I can’t help dreaming of it.”
Crown of Coral and Pearl Page 6
