I didn’t believe the story, at least not the part about Thalos, who I imagined was more of a spirit than a corporeal being. But the idea of a forbidden romance, of two young people risking everything to be together, had always resonated with me. To meet a stranger from a faraway land, to leave duty and responsibility behind for love... It was a fantasy I turned to when the thought of spending the rest of my long life in this one small village overwhelmed me.

There were murmurs among the girls. Even though we all knew the story, Mother had a way of telling it that made my skin feel prickly, like the hollow shell of a dead urchin.

“What became of Prince Laef?” a girl asked.

“When Ilara was pulled from his arms, he leaped into the water after her. He was never seen again. It is said the first blood coral grew there, from the hearts of the two lovers who had been separated in life, but were reunited in death.” My mother looked at me now, and I fought against the tingling in my cheek. The blood coral had not only given me my name, but also my scar—and it had nearly cost me my life.

“And the servants?” another girl asked.

“Loyal till death. They had promised to look after their prince and princess and refused to leave the place where they died. This place, where Varenia now stands. They signed a decree, vowing that no Varenian would set foot on land until a new crown princess was born to replace the one they had lost.”

“Why do we send them our women?” I asked, surprising even myself. It was a question that had haunted me for years, but which I’d never dared to ask before. Now seemed the perfect time to ask, since Mother couldn’t ignore me here.

She narrowed her eyes at me. “As a penance for losing the princess, the servants sent gifts from the sea to Ilara’s mother, who renamed her queendom in her daughter’s honor. In the years that followed, a plague swept through the land. Thousands died, and many of the women who survived were left barren. The monarchy had always passed through queens until this time, but the queen had no other daughters, just a sickly son. And when he came of marrying age, there was a dearth of suitable brides.

“But Varenia, which as you know means fertile waters, was spared from the plague. When they sent a beautiful girl to deliver pearls and sea silk to the queen, the Ilarean prince fell in love with her, and thus began the tradition of the Varenian bride.”

I watched Mother answer questions from the other girls, questions we all knew the answers to but asked anyway. It was part of the ritual. The air in the room had grown warm and pungent with perfume, and someone opened a hatch in the roof to let in the breeze along with the moonlight, which shone down on Mother’s hair and face.

Our poor mother, who always believed she should have been chosen at the last ceremony but lost to another girl instead. Father still called her the most beautiful girl in Varenia and said he was grateful the elders were so foolish, because otherwise he would have lost her to the king. But Mother’s resentment was too great to be appeased by the sweet words of our loving father, and nothing but Zadie’s selection tomorrow would quell it. Sometimes I wondered if even that would be enough.

Late that night, Zadie and I tossed and turned next to each other on our cushions, along with every other girl in the house. It was too hot and stuffy, and there was too much riding on tomorrow to sleep. The repeated slap-slap of the waves against the pillars below us, a sound that normally lulled me to sleep, grated on my already raw nerves.

Zadie’s breath was warm against my skin when she spoke. “Can I tell you something? Something I’ve never told anyone?”

I rolled toward her, my heart beating a little faster at the thought that Zadie had a secret. I told her everything. I always had. “Of course.”

“I hope they pick Alys tomorrow.”

I sucked in a breath. “What? Why? I thought this was what you wanted.”

Zadie’s features were obscured in the darkness, but I could imagine the worry dimples above her brow. “I want to stay here with you. I want to marry Sami. I love him, Nor.”

Something cold stirred in my stomach, slick as an eel. Of course I wanted Zadie to stay, for her and Sami to be together. But I couldn’t help wondering what role would be left for me in Zadie’s life if her wish came true. “I know.”

“Do you think they’ll pick her? She is beautiful, and thoughtful and nurturing. Surely those things matter more than a crooked tooth, even in Varenia.”

“It’s possible,” I said. “But don’t you want to be a princess? Don’t you want to see the world? Nothing can be worse than staying here forever.”

“Varenia is my home. You and Samiel are my home. What more can the world possibly have to offer?”

Roses, I thought. And horses and castles and all manner of things I hadn’t dared to imagine, surely. What didn’t the world have to offer?

“Would you really want to go, if they chose you?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said, without a moment’s hesitation. But we both knew they wouldn’t. “What are you going to do if they choose you tomorrow?”

When she blinked, her eyes were shiny in the moonlight. “I’ll go. But it will be my body that leaves, and nothing more. Samiel has my heart, and you, dear sister, my soul.”

* * *

The day of the ceremony dawned bright and clear, bringing with it both relief and dread. I needed to get out of that house, to breathe air that hadn’t been shared with twenty-nine other women. But Zadie trembled beside me like a feather in the wind as we stepped onto the long dock that connected the meetinghouse to the governor’s.

All the girls had left behind their sun-bleached tunics and salt-stained skirts for a proper gown, many of which had been passed down through the women in their families for generations. Zadie stood out in a brand-new silk gown as pink as the seven pearls my mother had traded to buy it, nearly two months’ worth of food and supplies.

To his credit, Father had tried to reason with her. “Zadie is sure to be chosen even if she wears the burlap sack our grain comes in,” he argued.

But Mother had ignored him and handed the gown to Zadie. “Pink for my pearl,” she said, then turned to me and presented her old ceremony gown, which had once been white. “And red for you, Nor. The color of the coral for which you were named.”

Blood. That was the word she hadn’t said. The newly dyed cambric gown looked like it had been drenched in it.

The water surrounding the wooden dock was crowded with boats, entire families gathered in a single vessel for the ceremony. Some were dangerously low in the water, threatening to capsize if a toddler decided to switch positions, as toddlers were prone to do.

Sami stood next to his father, Governor Kristos, on the threshold of their house, painted a deep orange. The figurehead cast her long shadow over them, her blank eyes staring out to sea. Sami and I shared a momentary glance, his jaw clenching before his gaze returned to his feet.