I did the only thing I could think of. I opened the pages at random. And though my scrawled lines cover the scriptures now, the holy words glowed under my gaze, and I knew I could summon forth the glyphs if I so wanted. Of course, I didn’t dare to do so, but as I had to do something, I read the words beneath in a voice that was so steady that I don’t think it actually belonged to me.
As a side note, I really like this part, and I can’t wait to pronounce these glyphs, even though I have no idea what they might do and though they will most likely leave me exhausted for days. But they seem VERY important.
In any case, after the last word, I pressed you shut as if I’d just finished the section I’d been reading all along. Celestia and Elise looked genuinely comforted, though if you ask me, the former really doesn’t deserve to feel good about anything. Merile dabbed her cheeks (she couldn’t possibly still be crying because I threatened her rats). Alina nodded, though whether to agree with the ghosts or for some other reason altogether, I couldn’t tell. But it was the guards’ reactions that sent shivers down my spine. Boy stared at me in wonder, pimpled cheeks blushing, and Captain Janlav… he shook his head slowly, as if the reality of our existence, the roles we each have to play, had just dawned on him.
It’s only starting to become clear to me now as well. But there’s too many thoughts swirling in my head for me to go down that path. I must finish telling what happened first before I can think of the accidental brush of skin against skin and that waltz I once shared in secret with K, and how under our changed circumstances I might never get a chance to kiss a boy, let alone experiment with anything else that’s still forbidden from me.
Enough! I shall finish this account first. Deal, Scribs?
Captain Janlav and Boy left without saying a word, locking the door behind them. My sisters and I listened to their fading steps. The hammering resumed before the steps could have possibly reached the stairway.
I counted to one hundred before I dared to speak. “Are they gone?”
Alina tiptoed to Merile and sat down cross-legged next to her. The brown rat crawled onto her lap. She wrapped her arms around it. “They’re walking past the library. Going out.”
I sighed in relief only then. The danger was over. And Scribs, I knew I was right. My sister is definitely talking with the ghosts, or at least the ghosts are still talking to her. Perhaps Alina can ask the questions I have in mind without alerting Celestia and Elise about the ghosts’ existence. Though I don’t trust them, they might know something useful.
I don’t trust Celestia either, but I bet she knows less than she pretends to know.
Back again. The dinner was horrid, as usual, but at least the hammering has paused. And the rats are still out with the guards. I really hope that one of Captain Ansalov’s hounds snatches them for a snack. Or perhaps not, because then Merile would bawl till she’d waste away, and though I still hate her, I…
I don’t want to lose her, any of my sisters, to be honest. Not even Celestia, though I may have written things contradicting with this statement in the past.
Scribs, I know I’ve mentioned the INCIDENT multiple times without sharing the details with you. Now that I can think straight (or relatively straight) again, I’m going to tell you what came to pass that night, before I forget anything or add something that really didn’t happen.
What’s behind my newfound courage?
You recall when I dropped you today, Boy reaching out for you, our fingers accidentally brushing? It made me think… I miss the life we once had. I miss K (may he have fled in time to avoid being fed to the Great Thinking Machine) and living in a palace and being pampered. But all the things I’ve been looking forward to for the past year—my debut, the balls to come, waltzing the nights away—there’s a real chance that none of it will come to pass. It’s very much possible that my sisters and I will never leave this house. A morbid thought, isn’t it?
I don’t want to write about the bad things and speculate of what might follow them, in case my words become a prediction of sorts. But today I started thinking, if my sisters and I were to meet our end in this house, I want someone (that someone being you, Scribs) to know what led to our fall. I don’t want to be simply wiped out from history as happened to Irina and Olesia.
Drat, my handwriting is shaky. Can you make out the words still? I hope you can’t and yet, at the same time, I hope you can. So, do tell me if at any point my handwriting veers toward unreadable.
Here we go then.
Six days ago, at midnight, Elise heard a timid knock on her door. I know it happened for sure because I’ve talked with Elise about it on multiple occasions, and though she mightn’t always tell me everything, she doesn’t make up things like our younger sisters do, and neither does she omit important bits like Celestia does.
I mustn’t get sidetracked. I must not!
Elise, who was awake at the time for reasons she wouldn’t share with me (what is it with all my sisters keeping secrets from me these days), glided to the door. Behind it, she found Alina, and our little sister was even more agitated and incoherent than usual. She prattled about a magpie and the witch and shadows of all sorts, and Merile being gone.
Elise, the Moon bless her for being the sensible one for once, managed to coach the relevant details out of Alina. Mainly that Merile had wandered out into the garden with her rats. Upon learning this, Elise promptly proceeded to wake up Celestia and me.
I was still rubbing sleep from my eyes when we heard the commotion from downstairs. Boots pounding. Doors slammed. Shouts smothered by the walls. Without a word said, Celestia soared out of our room. Elise, Alina, and I rushed after her, into the drawing room. But we caught only a glimpse of her white negligee’s hem as she disappeared into the hallway beyond.
I’ve never been as out of breath nor has my heart struggled to keep up as much as when I stumbled down the two stairways, then past the wide-open door of the library. I halted to catch my bearings when we reached the back door that stood ajar. Elise boldly pushed the door fully open. I followed her to the porch with Alina.
The night wrapped around us like a suffocating, wet blanket, but the sky was alight with our father’s half-revealed face.
“Father, bless your daughters,” Elise whispered, and then she skimmed down the porch’s steps, toward the barked orders muffled by distance. Our father lighting our way, Alina and I hurried after her, across the damp lawn, down the stone steps, to the orchard where the black shapes of the trees and bushes bowed under the soft spring rain.
Oh, Scribs, I shall never forget the scene we witnessed that night.
The Moon, though only growing, shone with his full might as Merile stood before the locked iron gate, Captain Ansalov and his mongrel soldiers circling her, Captain Janlav and his men doing likewise. She held her arms out to her sides, with her head tilted back, a glittering cap of raindrops on her black curls, and it was as if she were completely unafraid of the weapons aimed at her.
Scribs, if you reveal what I’m about to write next to anyone, anyone at all, even under the greatest distress, I’ll scorch your pages and shred you with the dullest knife. Understand this? Good.
As Merile shifted to defiantly stare at Captain Ansalov, she looked so very brave and beautiful that I did envy her! Yes, Scribs! I envied my otherwise so despicable sister, because out of all of us she’d acted, or at least tried to act, whereas the rest of us have remained docile and tame. For a good reason, too. But still!