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A sunrise, magenta and gold. Rays bursting past the thick pink clouds. Water sparkling like gemstones, stretching so far. Farther than I can see, kissing the horizon. The taste of salt on my tongue, in the breeze. And large, warm hands around mine, keeping my arms straight up as I prance awkwardly through the soft sand.
Just as the inviting tide rushes over my feet, above me shines a familiar face, a man’s face with green eyes. Beside him, halfway engulfed in sunlight, a blonde woman who looks —
“It…” My stepmother’s voice yanks me back.
I scramble to pull myself from the thoughts, to focus on the woman I’m with.
“Brown, I believe,” she says. “The dress was brown. Like dust. Not very pretty, truly. I do not know why you chose to wear it to such an occasion.”
My heart sinks to my toes in a cold rush. I slump into the nearest chair, a chair so plush it threatens to devour me. I wish I could lose myself in that recollection of the ocean. Let its waters sweep over me and take me back to a time where everything made sense.
“All right.” I clear my throat and grip my knees, squeeze a few times, and meet my stepmother’s eyes. “Did you see me before the ball? That day?”
“Yes, you —” Her expression pinches, almost like an insect flew into her face. “Well, no, maybe it…” She trails off and shakes her head.
I wait, but she doesn’t continue. “What were you going to say?”
“Forget it.” She waves a dismissive hand. The jeweled rings on her fingers twinkle red and blue in the sunlight. “I simply confused days.”
My heart thrashes in my chest, and I snap up from the chair. “What?”
“Well, it’s not like you don’t wear the same dreadful garb every day. It’s easy to mix —”
“No, wait, please.” I draw in a shaky breath.
She scowls but stays silent.
I force myself to calm down. To think straight. “Start from — from two, no three, days before the ball. Can you remember that, specifically? You’ve always had such a mind for detail.” I wait for her to acknowledge the compliment, but she doesn’t. “The ball was on Saturday. So the Thursday before it. Do you remember Kirran bringing me a dress? In the morning?”
“Alia. I do not have time for —”
“Please!” I surge forward, both hands up to keep her from leaving, though she hasn’t tried to do so. “I need you to help me understand this.”
Her amber eyes narrow like she’s going to argue, but she just lifts a brow. “Understand what?”
“How Kirran and I have different memories of that night.” I swallow hard, but nothing eases the lump in my throat. “He said I never came to the ball, but I remember being there, and I — I don’t…understand how any of this is possible. I’m just trying to figure out what happened to me. Or to him. We don’t even know who’s right.”
She sighs and crosses her arms. As she leans her hip against the smooth stone barrier, her gaze drifts toward the gardens below us. “How do you think I am to know what you did or did not do, Alia? There were delegates and other distinguished guests flooding in. Most of the time, I was not even here. Especially not when you were.”
I knot my hands against my dress. Warning curdles in my gut like sour milk. “If you have nothing to hide from me, then why won’t you answer my questions?”
She holds my gaze, scowls, and looks away. “Very well.” Silence falls, and she stares off into the gardens below. Unreadable emotions play across her face, pulling at her forehead as she thinks. “Prince Kirran stopped by on Friday morning. Briefly. I never saw him, but I heard your voices. I think you were about to head to the servants’ quarters. I was readying to leave to meet with the chieftain from Port Urdina. I have no idea what you two did or discussed, and by the time I came out of my room, you were both gone already.”
Something trails along the back of my neck. Like a gust of cold air, yet it’s not.
“When I retired for the evening, you were in bed. I didn’t see you until after whatever happened had happened.” She waits for a moment and ticks her brows up. “Anything else?”
“And after the ball, what did I say?”
“The next time we spoke, you told me you wanted to leave Hazal. You insisted, would not listen to my very reasonable advice. I could get a little out of you, only enough to understand that Prince Kirran was the culprit of your apparently broken heart. You provided no details. However, I arranged for you to board a carriage heading toward Sarma. From there, you were to be picked up by another carriage and taken to Palla.”
I hold my breath. “When did I leave?”
“The following morning.”
“So not until Sunday?”
She frowns again. Almost scowls, like she finds both my expression and my question annoying. “I’ll have you know that these things take some time to secure. The world didn’t stop because you were upset. You demanded to leave and cried yourself to sleep, I made arrangements as quickly as I could, and in the morning, I put you on the carriage to Palla.”
