“I would hope she would remember me by all the sacrifices I made to ensure that she have the best possible marriage prospect, despite her...flaws. But she chose to throw all that away, so she can remember me however she likes.” Mother stood up and disappeared behind her bedroom curtain, leaving her bread and fish untouched.

“Don’t listen to her,” Zadie said weakly.

I realized that no one had eaten, not even Father. Maybe Mother was right. Maybe I had acted ungratefully. She could have arranged a marriage between me and someone else in the village, but she had chosen Sami. I may not have been beautiful enough to marry the prince, but she’d still considered me worthy of the governor’s son.

If I could bring myself to believe that any of her actions had been done from a place of selflessness, perhaps I could have understood my mother. But as things stood, I didn’t think I’d ever be able to.

“Come, let’s get you to bed,” I said to Zadie, helping her back to our bedroom. She couldn’t bear any weight on her injured leg, but she had enough strength to stand now, and that was promising. Perhaps she’d be able to see me off properly tomorrow, at least from the balcony.

I unwove the braids in her hair and helped her wash with a cloth and fresh water. Even weak and sickly, she was beautiful, her gold eyes radiating love and compassion, a sad smile on her soft pink lips. When she laid a hand on my cheek, I set the cloth down and covered her hand with my own.

“What is it?” I asked.

“I can’t believe I’m never going to see you again.”

“Oh, Zadie.” I knew it was true, but if I let myself think like that, I’d never be able to get through this.

“I was terrified to leave Varenia, but I never considered how frightened you would have been to watch me go. I was so focused on being forced to leave that I never thought about what it would feel like to stay.”

That was the difference between Zadie and me. Though I had always imagined the day she would leave Varenia from my perspective, I had also dreamed it a million times from hers. And I’d always felt staying was the worse option.

“You’ll be all right,” I said. “You have Mother and Father. And Sami.”

She squeezed my hand. “But I’ll never have the one person I love best of all. He may have my heart, but you, my dear, beautiful Nor, are the twin of my soul.”

I wept then. We both did. For all the years we had both sacrificed for Mother’s foolish dream, for the things we had borne for each other—me, the knowledge that I was not and never would be enough in the eyes of our mother; Zadie, the weight of having to be more than enough, of having to achieve perfection. Here and now, as raw and vulnerable as the wounds on my sister’s legs, we were beautiful in a way our mother would never understand.

In that moment, I realized how foolish it was to be jealous of my sister’s love for Sami. I knew now that I couldn’t possibly love any man more than I loved my sister. We had spent almost every moment together for seventeen years. What could possibly touch that? What could break it? Not Mother and her dreams. Not even Thalos himself.

I should have prepared myself for the morning, should have carefully washed and plaited my hair as Zadie would have done, and laid out my best outfit and slathered my skin in oil and perfume. But instead I fell asleep in my sister’s arms, still wearing the tunic I’d worn all day, my cheeks stained with the salt of our tears, and my heart beating in time with hers.

Mother had given us one gift, at least, that no amount of time or distance could erase: each other.

      10

   I woke to the touch of Zadie’s fingers on my temple in the gray light of predawn. “What is it?” I asked, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

“It’s our last sunrise together. I didn’t want you to miss it.”

She laughed when I sat up.

“What?”

“Your hair. It would make a fine nest for a wayward bird.”

“Zadie!” I gasped as I touched my head. “An entire family could roost in here!”

“I’ll fix it later. Now hurry!”

We sat on the balcony outside our room, our legs dangling over the edge like always. I prayed for a spectacular final sunrise, and the sun did not disappoint. The horizon glowed bright orange just above the water, then slowly made room for the bright yellow orb that pushed the orange up and away, spreading the light into the fading darkness and out over the water.

Zadie rested her head on my shoulder, and I pressed my cheek to her hair. I tried not to think about this being our final sunrise together, the final time I would hear her voice or see her face. I couldn’t. It wasn’t fathomable. Surely tomorrow I would rise from the same bed and return to this same porch, the only home I’d ever known. How could I imagine anything different when I’d never even left Varenia?

“Girls,” Father called. “Sami will be here soon. Nor needs to prepare.”

“Yes, Father,” we chimed in unison.

True to her word, Zadie undid the damage from last night, first telling me to wet my hair with fresh water so she could comb and plait it. I asked her to keep the braids loose; I had no idea when I’d be able to remove them.

“What should I wear?” I asked, flipping through my small stack of clothing.

“A simple tunic and skirts. There will be clothes for you in the carriage. And leather-soled shoes, or so I was told.”

I stared down at my bare toes. Mother sometimes forced me to wear slippers for special occasions, but I preferred to go barefoot. “I have to wear shoes?”

Zadie’s head fell back as she laughed, and I realized she didn’t appear to be in pain for the first time in days. The worry lines on her brow were gone, and she no longer winced every time she moved.

“Are you feeling better?”

“I am, actually.” She unwound the bandages on her thigh, and I was pleased to see that the wounds, though still pink and raw, showed no sign of infection. An image came to my mind of Sami someday tracing those winding scars with his finger, and I felt a moment of peace. As long as they had each other, I wouldn’t worry for my sister. She loved it here. She always had.

I changed into my best white tunic and pale blue skirts. Zadie helped me apply the stain from Elder Nemea to my cheek, and we both marveled at how well it worked. If I waited just a little while, it didn’t come off even when I rubbed at it. After, I ate a small bowl of porridge with dried figs. I was afraid I’d be ill if my stomach was too full, and I didn’t have much of an appetite anyway.

“Nerves,” Father said. “I expect it’s normal to be anxious on a day like this.”