“Alina, could you move just a bit?” Sibilia’s tone is kinder than the one with which she spoke to Merile. Sometimes I think they’re afraid of me breaking, as if I were sculpted from glass. “Merile, you too. We need to take down the curtains.”
I shuffle aside. Lately, it’s been easier to get lost in my thoughts. My breakfast and lunch no longer stink and taste of Nurse Nookes’s potions. Maybe the two are related. Maybe not. I miss Nurse Nookes. I hope she’s fine. I think she is—if something were to have happened to her, the shadow of the owl would no doubt have come to visit me. “Why?”
Sibilia wobbles up onto the divan even as Merile and her companions jump down. The sofa squeaks like a duck and shifts under me like a pony intent on tossing me off its back, not that that has ever happened. Sibilia seeks support from the wall, and manages to get up on her stockinged feet. Yet, I’m not at all sure she won’t fall on top of me at any moment. Maybe that’s why she sounds annoyed. “You know why.”
But I’m not sure what she means. I’m dressed in the white travel dress, the winter coat, and the fur-lined boots that pinch my toes because I’m wearing two pairs of socks. I’ve already bundled up everything that has been given to me during this awful journey: the nightgown, the simple woolen dress, and the sabots. The pearl bracelet Celestia and Elise made for me. Even the sheets and blankets from my bed. Throughout the day, Celestia and Elise have been… I’m not sure what they’re doing, but it almost looks as if they’re taking things apart. Elise has shredded her sheets and now wraps the pieces around the chipped teacups and saucers. Celestia is… it almost looks as if she’s wrestling with the samovar perched on top of the cupboard by the door that leads to our cabins.
“Or then you don’t,” Sibilia mutters under her breath. She can’t quite reach the silver clips holding the curtains up. She steadies herself against the glass, leaving behind a wet handprint. “It’s because it’s better to be safe than sorry.”
But I still don’t understand what she means. The last time we were about to leave the train, we didn’t pack anything with us. Celestia had arranged her seed, General Monzanov, to meet with us at a town so tiny I can’t recall its name. But then something happened, and we had to board the train again, leaving him and his troika behind.
“Sorry. Sorry lot,” Merile whispers to Rafa and Mufu. Her companions snuggle against her, heads pressed against the backs of her knees. Does she, too, ponder if we’re really going to depart the train this time around, if her seed will be there to meet us at Angefort? “That’s what we’ve been lately, haven’t we?”
Celestia says that at Angefort, we’ll be staying in a house that stands on a hill overlooking a lake. She says it’s a very nice house. But maybe there won’t be servants there either. Maybe that’s why we’re now packing.
“I want to be safe.” I force myself to meet the night with a steady gaze. With the glass between us, the darkness can’t touch me. I feel a bit better. “Will we be safe at the house?”
“Safe. You’ll be as safe as a porcelain cup wrapped in cotton sheets.” Merile grabs a corner of the white curtain. Rafa and Mufu bounce against the divan, needlelike teeth bared, trying to do likewise. “Sibilia, what do you think, should we wrap up our precious little cup?”
There’s a pause as there always is when Sibilia considers something for longer than it should take her to make up her mind. She glances at Elise and Celestia, her plump lips pursing. Our older sisters are too busy to pay attention to us. “Yes.”
I yelp as Sibilia yanks the curtain loose. It falls over me, and…
It’s night now. I smell wet ground, rotting leaves, and it’s not the train that speeds across the empire. No, it’s me, running as fast as my four legs can carry me. And I’m not alone. I sense, if I were to glance over my shoulder, I would see who is with me. But I can’t. For I must run.
Run as fast as I can.
“Ha-haa. Ghost!” Merile laughs. “Alina, you look like a ghost!”
I fumble to lean on the windowsill. It’s cold. And someone is tugging at the curtains, lifting the edge. There’s a growl. It’s Rafa. No, it’s Mufu. The black dog jumps up onto the divan, into the low, soft cave. She licks my hands, her tongue wonderfully wet and warm and sticky. But even though I’m in the carriage with her and my sisters, I’m still at the same time running.
“Sibilia.” Celestia doesn’t sound angry, but more like she’s disappointed. “Are you almost done with the curtains?”
If I were to close my eyes, I would be out of her reach, everyone’s reach. For my feet are the fastest, like lightning and gale. But why would I want to run away from my sisters? I force my eyes to stay open, as I’ve done on so many nights.
The curtain lifts as Sibilia speedily gathers it in her arms. Her round cheeks glow. She stammers apologetically at me, “Sorry. Couldn’t resist.”
“We’re not sorry,” Merile mutters, picking Mufu up from the divan. She hugs her companion fiercely. “Yes, my darling, we’re not sorry at all!”
I stare back at them, afraid to close my eyes for even half a second. The rattle of the train is the rhythm of my running feet. No, not feet, but paws, and I don’t know what it means.
“Alina, are you all right?” Sibilia sits down next to me. She cups my face between her palms. Her hands are sweaty. “We didn’t frighten you, did we?”
I can no longer keep my eyes open. I blink rapidly. “No…”
The dream, or maybe it’s a nightmare, fades, and I decide I won’t tell my sisters about it, just as I don’t tell them about every shadow I see. Maybe I can simply dream when I’m awake. Maybe it’s not a bad thing. Though the shadows come and go as they please, they’ve never hurt me, just as the Witch at the End of the Lane promised. I haven’t seen her since we visited her cottage, but I do hope to meet her again. She’s the one who summoned me back when I spent too long with the shadows and almost forgot where my home is—here with my sisters. “It was nothing.”
“Right.” Sibilia lets out a deep breath, and the front of her dress strains in its seams. She still doesn’t seem convinced, but she takes it out on the curtain, vigorously bundling it. “Merile, will you help me fold this thing?”
Merile lowers Mufu on the divan and picks Rafa up in her arms. The copper brown dog nuzzles her chin. My sister tilts her head back, and her black hair is wild and wonderful. She laughs. “You’re so silly! Oh, yes! You are!”
“I’ll do it,” I say before Sibilia can chastise my sister. Folding the curtains is no doubt important, but so is cuddling Rafa and Mufu. I think it might have been one of them in the waking dream. But why only one? Why not both?
The train suddenly slows speed. A lot. I grip the curtain, as does Sibilia. It stretches tight between us. I stay up on my feet only because of that.
“No,” Celestia commands.
Sibilia and I turn just in time to see the samovar teetering on the edge of the cupboard, then arch past our sister.
“Don’t you dare fall.” And for a moment I’m sure that Celestia has it within her power to affect the way the world works, that she will only have to say the words to change events to follow her will. But then she gracefully reaches toward the silver pot, and her shadow… It flaps her arms as if they were wings, the sleeves of her white dress tattered feathers.
“Oh,” I gasp, blinking. Am I imagining again?
A crash. Clatter of silver. When I next open my eyes, Celestia has caught the pot, but the rest of the samovar has come apart. The body and the base and the screws that held them together have scattered, landing every which way around the carriage.
Celestia folds gracefully on her knees on the carpet that’s not so white anymore. Elise, Sibilia, Merile, and I rush to her, for there can’t be much time left before we’re at the Angefort station and must leave the train with our bundles. Elise picks up the dented body of the samovar. Sibilia retrieves the base. I spot one of the small silver screws.