It isn’t long after Sofie’s arrival that Alia’s features falter. Tears threaten, and she tosses me a sign by way of explanation.Garden.
“If you will excuse us,” I interrupt the reunion, “Alia tells me you have a beautiful garden on the grounds, and I’d very much like to take it in.”
Alia snatches my hand and pulls me out before either boy can offer to come. But just as we hit the relative darkness of the hallway, we hear Sofie’s voice. “Ladies, you don’t mind if I come along, do you? I am in need of fresh air.” I force Alia to stop her determined pace and play polite. Sofie catches up. “I still feel like I’m in that motorcar. My head is simply spinning from all those winding roads over the pass.”
“Of course,” I say, both of us grinning wide. “Please come, Komtesse Sofie.”
“Thank you. My room is not quite ready yet—my hofdames are quite particular.” She shoots Alia a knowing look. “And I think the boys could use some time together.”
Alia nods, but it’s not convincing. We need time alone, but we can’t make Sofie our enemy any more than she will be after she matches the embrace she must have witnessed with the castle gossip about Alia and Niklas. I paste on the smile Sofie is seeking and grasp her hand. “And so could the girls.”
This appeases Sofie, and we wander down the stairs and through the halls, Alia mostly leading the way. She’s always had a fine internal compass, and using it on land seems to be no different. Maids swirl around us, minnows flitting down a stream. They run about, hanging grand twists of fabric from the bolts I saw earlier. Others fill each sconce with a fresh taper, and replace rugs just beaten in the breeze. Nearly everything is the same shade of blue as their uniforms. The decor is overpowering; they’ve nearly re-created the blue cast that sits over the sea king’s palace, one scrap of fabric, yard of rug, and taper at a time.
“What do you think of the wedding decorations?” I ask as means of small talk. “I hope you likeblue.”
Sofie’s green eyes snag on a rope of velvet being hung over the door facing the garden. “I do... ,” she says as we head under the new rope and out the doors to a small landing. “But it’s a bit much. I fear everything will be blue—the rings, the cake, the wine. If the fish at dinner tonight is blue, save me some extra rolls, will you? Because I just can’t eat that.”
“Got that, Alia? Bread for the blue bride.” Alia gives a thumbs-up as we pick our way down the steps.
Despite the end of summer, the garden is still lush, the rosebushes mature and thick with blooms of all colors. Red, pink, white, and yellow dominate, patterned throughout the garden like so much lace.
“Now this is colorful,” I say, mostly because I have tokeep this going—it’s too early to send Sofie away. Next to me, I can feel Alia’s unease. There’s a pinch in her brow, and I know she’s thinking about how much I haven’t said.
Sacrifice.
But we must play this game.
“They once had tulips here, I’m told,” Sofie says, inspecting a bush of pink blooms, still striking, their thorns thick and deadly. She smiles at us. “But a past king ripped them out because they reminded him of a broken heart.”
The sea witch’s face plays in my mind. Her prince, who became king with her sacrifice. Annemette.
“Niklas said he wanted roses because they show all of love’s parts—the beauty, the longevity...” She snaps one off and holds it up, one pristine finger hovering over a rather jagged thorn. “The pain.” Sofie smiles, and something stirs within me.
“But there should be no pain for you; you’re to be married to a king!” I say, trying to keep things light, though I want nothing more than to end this conversation right this very instant. Next to me, Alia squirms.
“Isn’t there pain in a choice that is meant to be forever? Forever is both a promise and an end.”
An end.Her eyes linger on Alia, and it’s clear now this girl already knows the castle gossip. She knew it before she set foot in the building today. And she’s not about to let Niklas’s relationship with Alia go a second farther.
We come to a bench, shaded from the noon sky by alarge tree. Sofie sits and invites Alia to her side with a little pat. When she does, I hover over their shoulders like the ghost that I am as Sofie takes my sister’s hand in hers.
“Your father is a titular baron, no?” She smiles as Alia nods, and then her eyes fall to Alia’s hand, soft in her palm. “Even so, you’ll be in my place soon. It won’t be your choice to make—fathers like ours retain and expand their power by promising away their little girls.”
This is true. I still refuse to like Sofie, but I can relate to her. Alia’s lip quivers—she can relate too.
“And though I don’t necessarily appreciate my lot, I plan on being successfully married in a day’s time.” Sofie’s grip tightens, and I have a sudden urge to take Alia and run. If only. The komtesse’s eyes flash up. “The king may like your face and your silence, Alia, but he likes the money and connections from my father more. Let go now, or the pain will be so much worse.”
Alia visibly jerks at the bluntness of it all, her shoulders sweeping back as she rips her hand away. She’s standing before I blink, and she bumps me, off-balance.
Alia runs toward the garden gate and is through it without a second glance.
Sofie doesn’t rise to chase down Alia, which is simply fine by me. I pick up the length of my dress to free my feet and try my best at a run. The feeling is even worse than walking, this strange, unsmooth propulsion forward accompaniedby a pain similar to being stabbed over and over with each step. I careen through the gate, lucky it didn’t latch and stop me dead in my tracks. Alia is already far ahead, and I need to sprint. With each breath, I picture the children I’ve seen on the beach, running with such surety that their legs won’t tangle and instantly drop them in the sand. It’s a slow start, but I soon catch up, a much uglier runner than my sister, but just as quick, as it turns out.
“Alia.” I catch her just as she’s turned for the town proper, her hunched shoulders and sadness-flushed cheeks all wrong against the bright colors of the buildings. “Alia, she’s not wrong. It was cruel but it’s true. You know it.”
She spins around to the hand I’ve placed on her shoulder, her face a mess and lips trembling. She looks me dead in the eye, and I know she doesn’t hate me for what I’ve just said.
Alia knows it’s true too.
