He’d leaped up and compared us, part by part, with only the moon to light his observations. “Nor’s eyes are narrower than Zadie’s,” he’d said. “And Zadie’s nostrils are rounder.” He rubbed his chin and let his eyes travel down to our torsos. We weren’t women yet, so he didn’t linger long. “Nor has knobbier knees than Zadie,” he added, and before he knew what had hit him, one of my too-long feet shot out and caught him right between the legs. He didn’t make the mistake of mentioning my knees again.

It wasn’t just that I didn’t appreciate being scrutinized by my best friend; I got that enough from Mother. But being compared to my twin was always complicated. Sometimes when we were small, other children would whisper to me that I was the prettier twin, with a conspiratorial grin. The same thing had happened to Zadie. And while it was impossible not to feel a small flutter of pride in the moment—beauty was always on our minds, even then—I always felt defensive on Zadie’s behalf. Because if I were prettier, it meant she was uglier, and a compliment at my sister’s expense was no compliment at all. I didn’t want to hear about my beauty in relation to Zadie’s, or anyone else’s for that matter. I wanted to be seen for me.

“It’s fine,” I said finally. “Sami is family. Of course he can come over tonight.”

Her cheeks flushed when she raised her eyes to mine. “Have you noticed that he’s grown lately? He used to be just a little taller than us. Now I have to crane my neck to look at him.”

I pounded the grain into the mortar with a wooden pestle. The coarse flour would be used to make bread in our clay oven. The bread always turned out hard and flavorless, but it helped fill our bellies when we dipped it in stew, especially now that we had less fish to eat. “Yes, I suppose he has grown. We all have.”

“And his voice. I know it’s been deeper for a while, but now—”

“Don’t do this.” The words slipped out before I had time to call them back.

“Do what?”

I chewed my lip, treading mental water. Perhaps it was selfish, but I didn’t want to be the one to tell her about my betrothal. “Don’t allow yourself to think about him that way. You have to leave in six days. It will only make things harder for you.”

She planted herself in front of me, forcing me to look at her. “Nothing could make this harder,” she hissed. “I love him, and I have to leave him and marry some other young man I’ve never met, while he marries Alys or one of the other village girls, and it makes me want to die!”

I stared at her breathlessly, my sweet sister who had never uttered a harsh word against anyone. “Zadie.”

“Don’t tell me what to do or think or feel,” she choked out, tears filling her eyes. “You get to stay here with Mother and Father and marry whomever you choose. You have no idea what I’m going through.”

She spun away from me, but I was faster. I caught her slender wrist in my hand. We were the same size, but her smallness always surprised me. Would I feel this fragile in the arms of my future husband, whether he was Sami or someone else?

“Do you think this is easy for me?” I asked. “Do you think I want to stay behind while you go off and see the world? I don’t want to stay here. And I certainly don’t want to live here without you. I would give anything for you to be able to stay and marry Sami. If I could trade places with you, I’d do it in a heartbeat. But they didn’t choose me, Zadie.”

I’m the perfect seashell you pick up from the ocean floor, only to turn it over in your hand and see the crack. I’m the fabric with the tear in the seam that you give back to the trader and demand first quality. As far as everyone in Varenia is concerned, I’m you, only ruined. So don’t tell me I have no idea what you’re going through.

My blood pounded in my head so hard I had to sit down. I could never say any of those things to my sister. They were old insecurities, ideas I’d gotten from Mother and spent years overcoming. Zadie couldn’t help the way things were any more than I could. I yearned to tell her about Sami, that I was being forced into a marriage just as much as she was. But I knew she wouldn’t see it that way. It would just be another reason for her to be jealous, and I didn’t want to fight with my sister now.

I pulled her into my arms, clutching her tight. She resisted for a moment, but her body finally went limp, and she sobbed against me until we heard the creak of the pillars below our house and the deep murmur of Father’s voice mingled with the higher trill of Mother’s. We took turns straightening each other’s hair and wiping the tears from our cheeks.

Few people in Varenia owned a mirror, but we had never needed one.

“Well?” Father asked as he came up through the trapdoor in our floor. “Any luck today?”

“Just look what Zadie found,” I said, pointing to the oyster with the five pearls. The other two had yielded three between them, but their color couldn’t match the others.

Father’s dark eyebrows rose. “Zadie found these?”

“Of course she did,” Mother said, coming up behind us and resting a hand on Zadie’s shoulder. She was in an unnervingly good mood. “She’s our lucky pearl.”

I could feel Zadie’s eyes on me, but I didn’t turn my head.

“We’ll use them for Nor’s dowry,” Mother added.

Ah, yes, my dowry. Mother had been speaking of it for years, since shortly after the incident, the implication always clear that she’d never be able to marry me off without the promise of a good dowry.

“Calliope,” Father chided her gently.

She ignored him and plucked the pearls from their shell. “Absolutely stunning. Where did you find the oyster?”

“Near the reef,” Zadie answered.

“These must have been close to a blood coral to have such strong coloration. You didn’t get close to it, did you, Zadie?”

“No, Mother. We are always careful.”

“Good. Now hurry up and bathe. We’re eating with the governor and his family tonight.”

“Why?” I asked. It wasn’t unusual for them to visit our home, but we never went to the governor’s house for meals. That was an honor reserved only for family.

Family. Which I would soon be. “Oh,” I breathed.

“What?” Zadie asked, her eyes darting from mine to Mother’s. “Did something happen?”

“Governor Kristos has an announcement to make,” Father said. “Wear the dresses you wore for the ceremony.”

I tried to meet Mother’s eye, to silently plead that this not happen now, but she ignored me and went to her room, humming as the curtain fell behind her. Zadie raised an eyebrow at me before heading out to the sunny side of the balcony, where the bucket of fresh water for bathing had been placed to warm.