of course, goes without saying. My cheeks are already burning from the exhilaration. I can’t help feeling that no matter how many tides I have left in this world, when it all ends I will look back and remember today sweetly, as the day that my life—my real life, as someone with purpose—began.
Four
Fading Star
I ’m led down a never-ending, arched hallway, glimmering with mother-of-pearl everywhere. It’s so bright I almost have to shield my eyes. As much as I had heard and dreamed, I had no idea it was this amazing inside. I don’t think anyone on the outside could imagine this.
Burbur, the head of castle housekeeping, scurries about the floor quietly, fussing busily over who-knows-what. I’ve stood close to her in the formation—she is number four—and she is always dressed very smartly in a plain, but always clean, white tunic. She’s about five Hard Seasons older than me, and her face is always pinched as if she’s smelling something bad. I’d always envied her, but now, things are different. I wonder why the princess didn’t pick Burbur as her lady-in-waiting. After all, she’s more refined than I am, and she has both hands.
She leads me upstairs, past at least a dozen other rooms. Each one is blocked off by a red curtain, and there is a square tub outside each door. I wonder what the tubs are for. She takes me into a room that she calls my quarters. My own quarters! It’s about the size of the craphouse, but size is the only thing they have in common. There’s a mat in one corner and a large circular stone tub in another. Orange curtains swirl in the breeze, carrying the scent of the sea and the screech of seagulls. I walk over to the tub. There’s a strange white foam billowing in there, and when I inhale, there’s something I’ve never smelled before. Something beautiful.
“Lavender,” Burbur says with a rare smile. “We have very little left in our stores. But the princess said you’d need it. And I have to agree.”
“Oh,” I say. “Does it...”
She laughs sourly. “Burn off your skin? Ridiculous. I am sure there are many rumors that you have heard on the outside that you will find to be untrue.”
I blush, inhaling again and again until my nostrils burn and I feel giddy. There’s a pile of green cloth so thick and dry near the tub that I have to fight the urge to bury my face in it. I whirl around, trembling, wanting to scream my thanks from the top of the tower, when I suddenly come face-to-face with it.
With me.
I take a step closer.
“It’s called a mirror,” Burbur says, but I already know what it is. I know it from a story I’ve read. Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?
“Oh?” I murmur, feigning ignorance as I step so close that my breath creates a circle of fog at my lips. My cracked, bloody lips.
“Everything you need is on the dressing table. Your new garment is hanging on the door. I’ll leave you now,” Burbur says, and disappears as if she can’t stand to be with my stench a moment longer.
For the first time, I am completely alone, in a room of splendor and beauty. And yet all I can look at is the ugliest thing here. My reflection. It’s fascinating and shocking at once, more vivid than anything I could see in the tide pools. My eyes look like two empty pits, black walls with those two round pink eyes at the bottom, like festering sores. My shoulders jut away from my neck at an awkward, upward angle, and there are deep holes in my collarbones. I look like a skeleton. Except for the scars. Strangely, the scars make me look alive.
I pull my tunic off my shoulders and let it slip to the ground so that I am naked. I can’t remember a time I was naked, since we are never alone. My breasts are shocking to me, high and white, and would probably be something to be proud of if not for the red lashes crisscrossing them. For the first time in a long while I can see, under my breasts, the worst of the scars. There are two deep red
Four
Fading Star
I ’m led down a never-ending, arched hallway, glimmering with mother-of-pearl everywhere. It’s so bright I almost have to shield my eyes. As much as I had heard and dreamed, I had no idea it was this amazing inside. I don’t think anyone on the outside could imagine this.
Burbur, the head of castle housekeeping, scurries about the floor quietly, fussing busily over who-knows-what. I’ve stood close to her in the formation—she is number four—and she is always dressed very smartly in a plain, but always clean, white tunic. She’s about five Hard Seasons older than me, and her face is always pinched as if she’s smelling something bad. I’d always envied her, but now, things are different. I wonder why the princess didn’t pick Burbur as her lady-in-waiting. After all, she’s more refined than I am, and she has both hands.
She leads me upstairs, past at least a dozen other rooms. Each one is blocked off by a red curtain, and there is a square tub outside each door. I wonder what the tubs are for. She takes me into a room that she calls my quarters. My own quarters! It’s about the size of the craphouse, but size is the only thing they have in common. There’s a mat in one corner and a large circular stone tub in another. Orange curtains swirl in the breeze, carrying the scent of the sea and the screech of seagulls. I walk over to the tub. There’s a strange white foam billowing in there, and when I inhale, there’s something I’ve never smelled before. Something beautiful.
“Lavender,” Burbur says with a rare smile. “We have very little left in our stores. But the princess said you’d need it. And I have to agree.”
“Oh,” I say. “Does it...”
She laughs sourly. “Burn off your skin? Ridiculous. I am sure there are many rumors that you have heard on the outside that you will find to be untrue.”
I blush, inhaling again and again until my nostrils burn and I feel giddy. There’s a pile of green cloth so thick and dry near the tub that I have to fight the urge to bury my face in it. I whirl around, trembling, wanting to scream my thanks from the top of the tower, when I suddenly come face-to-face with it.
With me.
I take a step closer.
“It’s called a mirror,” Burbur says, but I already know what it is. I know it from a story I’ve read. Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all?
“Oh?” I murmur, feigning ignorance as I step so close that my breath creates a circle of fog at my lips. My cracked, bloody lips.
“Everything you need is on the dressing table. Your new garment is hanging on the door. I’ll leave you now,” Burbur says, and disappears as if she can’t stand to be with my stench a moment longer.
For the first time, I am completely alone, in a room of splendor and beauty. And yet all I can look at is the ugliest thing here. My reflection. It’s fascinating and shocking at once, more vivid than anything I could see in the tide pools. My eyes look like two empty pits, black walls with those two round pink eyes at the bottom, like festering sores. My shoulders jut away from my neck at an awkward, upward angle, and there are deep holes in my collarbones. I look like a skeleton. Except for the scars. Strangely, the scars make me look alive.
I pull my tunic off my shoulders and let it slip to the ground so that I am naked. I can’t remember a time I was naked, since we are never alone. My breasts are shocking to me, high and white, and would probably be something to be proud of if not for the red lashes crisscrossing them. For the first time in a long while I can see, under my breasts, the worst of the scars. There are two deep red
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