Most never got the opportunity to wear their dresses. Actually, as far as I knew, none of my Sisters ever had.
Mine was red as blood.
The bodice was made of beaded lace, and the skirt of flowing silk chiffon. The hem where the bodice met the skirt was decorated with a series of tear-shaped beads, which were intended to resemble flower buds but now just seemed like drops of blood. The neckline wrapped around my throat, exposing my shoulders, with chiffon sleeves that dangled down my arms.
I could sense all these factual aspects of the dress, just as I could sense that it was incredibly well-made, certainly worth the large amount of money that had been spent on it. I couldn’t quite know how I looked in it, or if it was as lovely in that intangible way as it seemed like it would be.
As I brushed my hair and put on a fresh blindfold—red that perfectly matched my dress—I wondered if I looked beautiful. There was a certain appeal to leaving behind a pretty corpse.
Whatever the Sightmother was able to sense of my appearance, she must have been pleased, because her smile was one of genuine pleasure when I joined her in the dining room. She wore her gown as well, teal blue, just as ornate as mine. The room was large, the ceilings high and made of glass, revealing the red dusk of the sky above. But the table at its center was small, designed to sit no more than five people. Today, it was only set for two.
She gestured to the place setting across from her, and I sat down.
The food smelled incredible. I didn’t realize until now exactly how long it had been since I’d eaten fresh cooking.
The Sightmother sipped her wine glass. “Eat,” she said. She’d already started on her own meal, her steak half-gone. “You’ll need your energy tonight.”
I had no appetite. I daintily cut the meat and took a bite anyway. It was perfectly made, but tasted like ash.
“Thank you,” I said. “It’s very good.”
A waste of words. I had so many questions to ask. Some, I might be able to. Others were far too dangerous.
“It’s alright,” the Sightmother said softly.
My knife stopped moving.
“What, Sightmother?”
“I sense your fear, Sylina. There’s no shame in fear. I was terrified the first time I met Acaeja.”
I felt no lie in her words. Nothing but kind compassion.
I had still been partly convinced that she was going to kill me. But perhaps I could chance the questions I most desperately wanted answers to, if I asked them carefully.
I set down my silverware.
“I do have a question,” I said.
The Sightmother’s brow twitched over the ebony silk of her blindfold. “I’m sure you have many.”
“Why are you allowing me to do this when I disobeyed your orders?”
Her smile faded.
“Many people asked me, years ago, why I allowed you to stay at the Salt Keep,” she said. “Considering your age.”
Normally, every time someone mentioned the way I came to be here, I’d bristle with shame, like it was a terrible flaw being pointed out. Something unpleasant and bitter lingered on my tongue now, but it wasn’t shame. It was a different kind of anger, directed not at myself but at the Sightmother.
“The truth was that I saw such potential in you,” she said. “I saw… parts of myself, perhaps, in you. Even all those years ago. There can be beauty in what makes us unique. I sensed that what made you unique could be a great benefit to the Arachessen.”
My hands shook slightly around my knife. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
It was what I had wanted to hear my entire life. That validation.
“It was always made very clear to me that my ten years before the Arachessen were a detriment to my position here,” I said, keeping my voice carefully level.
“In some ways. Yes.”
“But you never believed that.”
Another calm smile. “It isn’t so simple, Sylina. Something can be both a detriment and a strength. Suffering makes us strong. You, Sylina, have suffered so greatly. And you have grown so, so strong because of it—and because you had so much to prove. Complacency does not make anyone strong.”
I had to focus on keeping my breathing level. Needed to speak past the painful lump at the base of my throat.
Puzzle pieces, slowly, were clicking together, even though I hated the picture they revealed.
“Then you’ve done me a great service,” I said. “Just as you’ve done Glaea a great service.”
For a moment I thought I’d pushed too hard, mentioning Glaea, my implication clear. But I kept my presence still, all those feelings of love and loyalty and gratefulness at the front of my mind. And at last, the Sightmother inclined her chin.