Sisters' Fate

Page 14

Tess turns her back to me, but I catch her blush in the mirror over the dressing table. “I don’t have to tell you everything.”
“I know.” I promised myself I wouldn’t push her, but it’s so hard. “I really don’t think you should go tonight, Tess. Not if—”
Tess rolls her eyes at me in the mirror. “I’m not discussing this with you any more. I’m going and that’s that. So are you, according to Brenna, so you ought to start getting ready,” she snaps. “Come, Brenna. Let me take you back to your room.”
She strides out of the room, Brenna dancing after her. Brenna is still skittish with everyone else, cringing like a whipped puppy if anyone touches her or stares—and everyone stares at Brenna. She ran into Alice again yesterday in the hall and screamed like a banshee. For the most part, though, she stays in her room. Tess brings her meals and visits her between classes to keep her company. I don’t know what they talk about. Visions, perhaps, trying to piece together how things will play out.
I’ve just changed into my Sisterly black when Rilla pops back into our room. She’s all ready for the bazaar, her short brown curls artfully arranged around her freckled face.
“You’ve decided to come?” she asks. “You look pretty.”
I glare at her. “I do not.” I look like a tall, skinny blond vulture in the Sisters’ uniform. I always do.
“Hush and take the compliment,” she insists, braving a hug. She smells like hot cocoa and the maple candies her mother’s always sending from their farm in Vermont. “Are you all right? You seem . . . pricklier than usual.”
“I’m fine.” I’m not fine. What’s O’Shea cooking up now? Hundreds of Brothers will be at the bazaar. Any of us could make a misstep and be arrested. Things seem so on edge. And beyond that—
“Are you worried Finn will be there?” Rilla cuts right to the heart of it.
My breath catches in my throat, and I feel such a coward. Am I that obvious, that pitiful, that everyone can see the truth written on my face?
“I don’t know,” I whisper, burying my head in my hands. “I miss him. So much. I want to see him but—he won’t know me. Not really. It’s so awful, Rilla.”
Rilla plants her hands on her sturdy hips and gives a fierce little scowl. “I could slap that sister of yours.”
“Me too.” I give her a weak smile, sliding on a pair of earbobs and glamouring them to look like rubies, to match my new necklace. “But it’s done now, isn’t it? There’s nothing I can do.”
“Are you sure of that?” Rilla picks up one of her Gothic novels. “You know, in The Duke and I, the duke is in a hunting accident; he falls off his horse and knocks his head and loses his memory. It’s amnesia, not magic. But he and the duchess fall in love with each other all over again.”
“That’s impossible,” I say shortly.
“Is it?” Rilla guides me to the dressing table, sits me down, and begins to braid my hair. “If Finn fell in love with you once, what’s to say he couldn’t do it again? You know him. Know what he likes. You could orchestrate things in your favor.”
Hope thrums through my chest, but I quash it. “That seems dishonest. Starting off with secrets between us.” Like my parents. Mother erased Father’s memory, leaving him unaware that she was a witch and he had three witchy daughters. It kept him safe from the Brothers, but I can’t imagine their marriage was ever the same.
Rilla skewers the braids into place around the crown of my head. “You could tell him the truth, then. How you fell in love and what Maura did.”
“Just like that?” I snap my fingers. “What if he turned her in?” I shake my head. Furious as I am, I cannot be responsible for Maura ending up—where? Without Harwood, where would they send a witch guilty of mind-magic? She would be executed.
I smooth my black skirts. “And it could be dangerous for him. What if she saw us together? What’s to keep her or Inez from attacking him again and leaving him like—like Covington and the others? I can’t take that chance.”
Rilla’s shoulders slump. “I suppose you’re right. I just hate to see you so unhappy, Cate.”
I stare down at my clenched hands. “Me too.”
• • •
Hundreds of people mill through Richmond Square Gardens, all bundled up in their winter finery: ladies in fur hoods and men with their collars turned up against the cold. Lanterns swing from majestic red maples, sending light skittering over the crowd. Children run up and down the makeshift aisles playing tag while their mamas examine the merchandise. The bazaar is meant to benefit the poor, but I don’t see many of them here. Now that the Brothers have outlawed women working, more families are struggling to make ends meet than ever. They’ve barely got money for food and shoes and coal, never mind Christmas treats.
The air smells of hot apple cider. People carry roasted chestnuts wrapped in cones of newspaper, and at the far end of the bazaar a hurdy-gurdy man performs with his monkey on a makeshift stage. Earlier, a pair of clowns delighted the audience with their pratfalls and juggling. Next up is a Christmas puppet show, according to the program.
I’m stationed at the Sisters’ booth with Rilla, Mei, Vi, and two of the younger girls. The six of us volunteered for the middle shift, while the others wander the aisles and watch the performances.
“Yang would love those.” Mei eyes the booth next to ours, where a man and his son sell clockwork toys. “He’s always been a great one for taking things apart and putting them back together.”
“Why don’t you get him one for Christmas?” I suggest.
Mei laughs. “With what? I haven’t any pocket money.”
Of course. I flush, feeling thoughtless. Unlike Mei and some of the other convent girls, I’ve never had to worry about money. I fumble in my pocket for coins, then press them into Mei’s hand. “Here.”
She shakes her head. “No, I couldn’t.”
“Not for yourself. But for a Christmas gift for your brother, you can,” I insist. “You ought to get something for your little sisters, too.”
Mei glances wistfully, uneasily, at the coins in my hand. “I don’t know.”
“Christmas will be hard this year, won’t it, without Li and Hua? Get some gifts for the others to make it brighter.” Her two middle sisters are serving time on a prison ship for taking part in the Richmond Square protest last month, but she’s still got two small sisters and a brother at home. “I’ve got plenty left to buy presents for Tess and my father.” And something for Rilla and for Mei herself. “I’m happy to help, truly.”
“It’s just a loan. I’ll pay it back,” Mei promises, taking the coins. “Thank you, Cate.”
I smile as she leans over the counter, angling for a better view of the merchandise next door. “Get them now! Before the ones you like are sold.”
She looks around our booth, at Vi and Rilla selling mittens and the younger girls huddled in the back whispering. “I’ll be right back.”
“Take your time.” I watch her push out of the booth and dodge other shoppers.