“Ah yes, it’s not the color of snow, that is something we should know. But wear it about your person at all times, and there might come a day that you’ll be all smiles.”
Merile gingerly accepts the scarf. She must be as puzzled as I am. Why would her seed give a Daughter of the Moon something we’re not supposed to wear! Though, since we left the Summer Palace, we’ve worn the gray blankets that Elise turned into coats quite a few times. Celestia says Papa doesn’t mind that, as otherwise we would have frozen or at least gotten sick during the winter.
“I also brought chocolates with me, but I confess that I couldn’t resist the temptation. While I was crossing the nation, I did sample a few. But worry not, my sweet Merile, I know the selection varies. With great care I picked only the bitter ones, leaving you the ones filled with berries.”
Merile accepts also the chocolate box that, having traveled through the empire, is rather dented. “Alina, hold this, will you?”
And so I become the guardian of the treat that Sibilia has been longing for for months. Maybe she’ll finally cheer up.
“Poet…” Merile pulls him with her toward the flowerbed flanking the stone steps. I quickly peek inside, through the open doorway. Boots and Tabard guard the main stairs. Celestia argues with them, Elise and Sibilia behind her on the higher steps. I turn my gaze aside before they notice me noticing them. They’ll be so mad at us! “I want to show you something Elise taught me.”
“But of course,” the Poet says, and then he calls over his shoulder at Bopol. “You may rest now, my steed. You kept up a decent speed.”
Merile snaps the longest coltsfoots from the flowerbed that no one has tended in a while. I’d help her, but I can’t, not without lowering the box of chocolates. Rafa and Mufu settle behind us. They’ll watch over the two captains and the hounds and let us know if anything of importance happens in the yard.
“Crown. I learned how to braid a crown! And as you’re a prince, I want to make you one!” Merile beams at the Poet as she struggles to weave the stems together. “Short. These are a bit short. Elise says it’ll be easier to braid from dandelions…”
“Ah, dandelions,” the Poet sighs. And now that I look at him closer, he looks very tired. When Merile concentrates on the weaving, his smile tightens. His clothes, though sewn of velvet and silk, are stained and wrinkled. He also stinks quite a bit. “Yours is not the glory of the first summer days. Yours is the whiteness that disperses in the wind. There is nothing a single man can change, no matter how he prays. Sometimes, in the end, ignorance is more kind.”
The way he speaks… So sadly, as if he’d lost something he much liked. Though it might be that I’m just imagining this, for as Merile braids the crown, his smile broadens.
Rafa growls. Mufu barks. I turn around to see the soldiers on their ponies and the cart enter the yard. The day fills with their harsh laughter and… clucking. Yes, there, on the cart, is a cage that holds speckled brown chickens and a redheaded rooster. And behind the cart, with a rope around its neck, oinks a real pink and black pig!
“Look!” I point at the chickens and then at the pig and then again at the chickens. Now I know what sort of sounds they really make!
The Poet bends down on one knee before Merile. “Do not look. Do not look back. Do not think of what you may now lack. Keep those you love hidden, deep in your chest. Cherish that which you love the best.”
She embraces him, the unfinished coltsfoot crown swaying in one hand. I want to embrace this dejected man, too. He can no longer hide it. But he’s my sister’s seed, not mine. My seed is far, far away. I don’t know exactly where.
“Poet Granizol.” Captain Ansalov’s voice cuts through the day like a dull knife. When we turn toward him, he smiles at us. If I’d never met Gagargi Prataslav, I would call it the most terrible smile I’ve ever seen. Captain Ansalov’s cheer, with the wind tugging at his curly hair, flapping his dirty coattails, ranks only second compared to that. “Join us inside.”
“It seems that I must go.” The Poet squeezes Merile’s shoulders. He presses a kiss on her forehead. “Please let me depart with the deepest bow.”
He gets up and does just so, flourishing his left arm, the sleeve so very red. As he turns to leave, Merile reaches out for his hand. “Talk. We will talk again, won’t we?”
Maybe he didn’t hear her. Or maybe he did but doesn’t dare to answer. He gently shakes himself free, and as he strides to the two waiting captains, I can only guess.
“I’d be very curious to know what they’re talking about,” Sibilia says once we’re back in the drawing room, her tone more bitter than any potion Nurse Nookes ever tricked me into swallowing. My sister paces to the arching window closest to her room and glances out. Though, no matter how many times she’ll do so, she will see only the garden and the lake. None of the windows on this floor open to the front yard.
“Yes, what could they possibly discuss in the absence of their younger sisters,” Olesia agrees, though Sibilia can’t hear her.
Rafa scratches the door leading to the hallway beyond. I press my ear more firmly against the panel, but I can’t hear a thing. In the drawing room, the ghosts sit on the white sofa nearest to the windows, a spot from which they can easily watch everyone in the room. But as Merile can see the ghosts only through a reflection, she stands before the tall mirror and stares fixedly beyond the gleaming surface. Mufu leans against her legs, ears pressed back. She’s still shy about the ghosts.
“Adult things,” I reply to both my sisters and the ghosts as I straighten up. I’m pretty sure that no one stands guard on the other side, but I’ll stay by the door and check again in a few moments.
Celestia and Elise want to protect us from the gagargi. Though me and my sisters have gone through quite a lot since we left the Summer City, the revolution Elise has mentioned quite a few times must have affected other people, too. Merile says she saw burning houses on our way here. I don’t dare to think what else might have happened. Yet I sense that many shadows have been lost, their bearers fallen limp in snow or mud.
“That man, Captain Ansalov, I do not like seeing him here.” Irina clenches the top of her closed fist against her mouth.
“He is very dangerous.” Olesia drifts from the sofa to Merile, to stand behind her—no, to lean over her shoulder. Mufu backs away from my sister. “Listen, little one, listen closely. Do not ever follow Captain Ansalov into the cellar, no matter what he tells you.”
“The cellar?” Merile wonders aloud even as Mufu shrinks down on her hind legs and growls. “Why would I ever want to go to the cellar? Elise says it’s dark there, and her clothes smelled of moldy onions for days afterwards.”
I don’t know how Merile doesn’t see it. Hear it. Olesia’s words are a warning. Not that she should have needed to tell us not to trust Captain Ansalov. Though he smiles when he addresses us, his shadow is spiteful and hungry. I would never trust anyone with a shadow like that!
“Merile…” It’s Sibilia who speaks as she strolls to our sister, and at that moment I’m glad that I’m still watching the door, at the other side of the room. I don’t remember her being as tall as she now is, but with her shoulders pulled back and her back very straight, she resembles Celestia more than I’ve noticed before. “What are you talking about? And to whom?”
Merile spins around, and Mufu spins with her. Her brown cheeks redden. She’s spoken out of turn! Can she possibly come up with a story that doesn’t reveal to our sister that we see ghosts! For if she can’t, I don’t know what to do! With the Poet arriving, but then with Captain Ansalov and his soldiers arriving, too, too much has happened already today without Sibilia getting mad at us!