“I don’t understand how you bear this darkness,” she says morosely.
“You just opened the damned curtains, Erika. Stop complaining.” It’s not as if she actually cares how isolating it is, how it forever sets me apart.
She throws the dress at me, and I catch it, making my way behind the green-and-gold dressing screen.
“Do you have any idea what his news might be?” I ask as I strip off my cotton nightgown and throw it onto a chair.
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” the snide voice of my other sister, Chessa, rings out.
“You could knock first,” I mutter under my breath. I have absolutely no privacy with the twins walking around like they own the place.
“As if you have anything to hide,” Chess croons.
The derision in her tone makes me want to claw her eyeballs out. How I loathe thisdearsister of mine. She acts as if the entire realm revolves around her, and if for one moment she feels it doesn’t, she throws a fit. It’s embarrassing, really. She’s twenty years old, for Luna’s sake.
“It’s a good thing I’m behind the dressing screen. Unlike you, I prefer not to show off my body to anyone who will look.”
“Trust me, no one would care if you did, Raelyn,” she retorts, ignoring my comment. “Or have you forgotten your lack of suitors? Always so forgetful . . .”
I shrug off her comments and stride out to my mirror so I can fix my hair. Chessa’s dark, judgmental eyes mock me in the reflection as she twists a piece of her black, silken strands around her finger.
“You look terrible,” she says.
“Thank you. You’re so kind.”
I glance at Erika, and sure enough, she’s trying to hold back a smile. She’s slightly more bearable than Chess. While the twins have their obnoxious similarities, Erika is quieter than Chessa, a little bit softer, and perhaps a touch kinder. There have even been moments when I thought we might be friends.
“You’re practically an old maid now,” Chessa prattles on. “Father has completely given up on arranging a marriage for you. Clearly, no one is interested in you, especially not with this beingmyseason.”
My eyes nearly roll out of my head as I drag the hairbrush through my long, wavy hair, wincing as it snags on a tangle. It’s Erika’s season too, and Chess thinks far too highly of herself. I pity the man who ends up saddled to her for eternity.
A screech drags me out of my thoughts, and I whip my head around to look at Chess. “What in the realms?”
“My nail is broken! This is all your fault.”
My brow wrinkles. “How do you figure?”
“If I hadn’t been sent to fetch you, I never would have broken this nail!”
I have no words. When I glance at Erika with a “can you believe her?” look, she gives a shrug and smirks in response.
“Time to go, girls,” Erika commands, tossing her pin-straight onyx hair over her shoulder as she ushers Chessa out of the room.
I tie off the ribbon holding my hair back and pinch my cheeks. Good enough. After sliding on my satin slippers, I run after them, knowing that angering Father is the last thing I want to do. Ever since our mother died, his temper is one to be feared, but he still seems to have a soft spot for me. He treats me somewhat like a prized possession, which has only created more friction between my siblings and me. I’ve always had the best healers and teachers, and many plans or appearances at court have been declined due to my affliction.
My sisters’ chattering ceases once I catch up, and we walk together down the grand staircase toward the dining room.
Their silence makes me feel unwanted, reminding me of how I’ve never quite fit in. As much as I want to pretend Chessa’s words didn’t hurt, she wasn’t wrong. Perhaps Father truly has given up on trying to find me a match. Is it my fault that I’ve managed to scare off all my suitors? A wife with my affliction isn’t the greatest prize, but my father is well-respected at court and a close friend of the king. Surely, that has to count for something.
The intoxicating scent of bacon wafts through the air, making my mouth water as we enter the formal dining room.
“Girls, so nice of you to finally make an appearance,” Father says from his seat at the head of the table.
Sunlight pours into the room from the wall of windows, and I stick to the opposite side, looking for a safe place to sit.
Father notices me, then glances at the windows, an aggravated look crossing his face as he signals to one of the servants. “Pull the curtains. It’s far too bright in here for Raelyn.”
Guilt over the accommodations I need is a sinking stone in my gut. I don’t miss the annoyed looks of my siblings at the lack of natural light in our home when I’m in the room or the muttered curses Father throws at Kyros, the sun god.
