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 beauty. 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.”

“The only way they’d let you stay would be if you stopped being beautiful all of a sudden, and we both know that’s never going to happen.” If anything, Zadie had become even more beautiful these past few days.

Sorrow is good for the soul, Father had said after the incident, when I had recovered from the pain and sickness but had still not grown used to the feel of the torn flesh on my otherwise flawless skin. Those who have never known pain or adversity are as shallow as the waves lapping on the shore.

And what is wrong with being shallow? I’d asked him.

What lies beneath the surface of shallow waters? Nothing. It’s only when you go deeper that the ocean comes alive. The deeper you go, the more mysteries and surprises await.

I had frowned and nestled closer to him, unconvinced. I’d never seen shallow waters, but I did know one thing about them: you could walk through them to the shore. And there could be no greater mystery or surprise than land. At least not to me.

Zadie folded the cloak and returned it to the trunk. “I just can’t help feeling that the gods switched our fates somehow. That I was the one destined to stay...”

“And I was destined to go,” I finished. I released my breath through my nose. “Well, we are identical twins. Even Father used to confuse us when we were babies. Maybe I’m really Zadie, and you’re really Nor,” I said with a laugh.

Before the incident, people often confused us, calling me Zadie so frequently that even now, I still responded to her name as readily as my own. There were times when I felt so close to my sister that I truly believed I was one half of a person, and she was the other. I couldn’t live without her any more than a person could live with half a heart.

Zadie smiled, but when we lay down to sleep that night, she again presented her back to me, the way she had before. One of the greatest comforts in my life had been knowing that even if I couldn’t make sense of my mother’s actions, or predict what the future might hold, I at least knew Zadie’s mind, maybe better than my own. She was predictable, reliable, honest, and good. She was responsible and even-tempered. She never surprised you by doing the unexpected. She was as straight as the horizon and as dependable as the sunrise. We had known this day was coming for as long as I could remember, and I’d always assumed Zadie had been preparing for it, just like I had.

I woke some time in the middle of the night to find Zadie missing. My concern only lasted a moment, until it occurred to me that she was probably off kissing Sami again. I told myself I wasn’t jealous, but what if I was terrible at kissing? How did Zadie even know what she was doing?