I pronounce the last silent consonant, and the glyph surges to life in my mouth. Even if I wanted to speak words of consolation, I couldn’t voice them, not without releasing the spell first. Even if… But I have nothing to say to my sister, not until I have considered through the full implications of her selfish actions. And that is something I can’t afford to focus on now. It will have to wait.
“War is such a messy business. To see a sister turn against sister…” The gagargi shakes his head, and drops scatter from his braids and his beard onto the plank floor. The spell swirls in my mouth. “Ah, it breaks my heart.”
Upset by what she must consider cold-hearted silence from me, Elise blinks back tears. The gagargi glances at me, to see if this revelation had any effect. I don’t need to pretend shock, but it pains me to let him see it. Yet, he needs to believe that my plans have come undone, that I have lost my trust in my sister.
“I don’t recall your name, younger Daughter of the Moon,” the gagargi says as he moves onward, to harass Sibilia. He leers at the too-taut front of her dress, the too-short sleeves, and the dirty hem. “You are the one who doesn’t matter, but you must have realized that by now.”
Sibilia gazes past the gagargi, pretending braveness, pretending so much more. Out of my sisters, only she understands why I don’t, can’t say a word. She knows and believes in me, even though I was once ready to abandon her.
“Yes. That you have,” the gagargi replies to his own speculations. To him, my sister is still expendable. He has no idea of her powers, and if it is up to me, he will never learn of them. “You are of no interest to me either. How does that make you feel?”
Sibilia blushes, but otherwise manages to hold on to her composure, and I am so proud of her that the spell almost manages to sneak out from between my lips. I tilt my chin up, clench my teeth together. To my sisters, the two captains, it must look as if my façade of calm were crumbling.
The gagargi chuckles, and the rain outside grows heavier. Wind knocks against the barred windows, loud and insistent. My swan-self warns me of approaching thunder. She tells me to fly away. But even if I could, now isn’t the right time.
“You, on the other hand, little Merile,” the gagargi says, turning on his heels, “have become of interest to me of late.”
Merile glances at her feet, but her dogs aren’t with us. There is no one to comfort her. I can but stand before her, teeth already aching from the eagerness of the spell, full of power I can use only once. I need to wait for the moment when the gagargi is, if not weak, then at least distracted.
Pray to Moon that there will be such a moment soon.
The gagargi slips his arms into the voluminous sleeves of his black robes. His fingers climb up his arms, shapes like colossal spiders under the wet fabric. Then he pulls his arms free, flourishing a scarlet scarf I instantly recognize.
“Mine,” Merile shrieks, reaching up to claim the scarf her seed once gave her, though the gagargi holds it too high for her to reach. “That’s mine, the scarf so fine!”
Captain Ansalov laughs. The gagargi doesn’t so much as glance at the soldier, and yet his displeasure is obvious. The two captains may have been allowed to remain in the room to witness my humiliation, to allow them to see how powerless I am despite my heritage. But they aren’t allowed to partake in it.
Captain Ansalov’s expression grows somber and sour as he realizes this.
“No, no, little Daughter of the Moon.” The gagargi closes his fist and the scarf disappears into the hollow formed by his bony fingers. “It is mine. A favor granted by me to the one who speaks in my name. I am by no means surprised to see him passing it onward to the daughter of his seed. But back, you shall not get it.”
The gagargi cranes over his shoulder at me, and the spell barges against my teeth so hard I fear they will shatter. There is no time to think, only to act. I press my hand against my mouth to prevent the spell from claiming uncontrolled freedom. Oh, the Moons be blessed, let the gagargi think that the night of Merile’s folly has returned to haunt me, that I am afraid of him harming my little sister and nothing more.
“He has been such a great asset to me. The people listen to his voice,” the gagargi says, twisting a knife in the wound he knows I bear in my heart. Even our seeds, the ones that are still alive, have deserted us. He is responsible for the death of mine. “But enough is enough, I think. Having spared you, I have now favored him twice.”
My dread is fuel for the spell that is growing ever so impatient. It forces my clenched teeth, my tight-pressed lips apart. I must clasp both hands over my mouth, bend my upper body down, to make it seem as if I were about to gag. The left corner of the gagargi’s lips twitches. He is satisfied, rather than suspicious.
“Great Gagargi Prataslav,” Elise chimes, and at that moment I don’t know if the reverence is a mere practiced tone or genuine. I don’t know my sister anymore. “You are the Gagargi of the People. Your kindness knows no limit.”
“Kindness,” the gagargi repeats slowly. Even if Elise’s intervention was an attempt to sway the gagargi to granting us, Merile, mercy, he isn’t a man capable of that. “Yes, I am kind. But I cannot be seen to favor any family over the others. Not even the one of celestial descent.”
And with this said, his full, intense attention falls on little Alina.
My stomach cramps as if my intestines were boiling, and I am no longer faking my nausea. A guttural hum rises inside me. I retch parts of the spell into my palms, swallow back what I can. It isn’t the time yet. Not yet!
“The youngest Daughter of the Moon.” Gagargi Prataslav pats Alina’s head, his long, skeletal fingers weaving into the gray-brown hair. “Still on her sixth year, is she not?”
Alina tenses and seems to shrink before my very eyes. I have never wanted anything as much as to rush to her, to hold her, but that I can’t do. Elise, Sibilia, and Merile turn to me, hesitant, concerned, and afraid, seeking guidance on what to do. I can’t provide them any, not when I am about to vomit out the spell that may not be enough to save us.
“Every family gives their every other child to fuel the greater benefit of the empire,” the gagargi says, the terrible words preceding a suggestion unfathomable. “Imagine how it looks to the people, when the imperial family refuses to follow this rule.”
It is clear to me now. He wants Alina’s soul, though it is deeply anchored to her body. That he shall not have, even if this will cost us older sisters dearly. I force my back straight, lower my arms to my sides. And curiously enough, now that I am about to set the spell free, it no longer fights against me.
“It lives in his shadow,” Alina whispers, filling the calm moment about to shatter. “It’s growing.”
The gagargi takes a step back and stares at his shadow, and with his gaze, with Alina’s words, everyone’s eyes are drawn to the black shape veiling the planks. This is the best I can hope for. I part my lips and release the spell.
“What do you see?” the gagargi asks, unaware of the threads of silver that coil through the air toward him. This spell will not be difficult to maintain once connected to a person, I know this from personal experience. But each word I want the gagargi to believe will drain more of my strength than the previous, both that which was bestowed on me by the Moon and that of my very soul.
“It’s growing bigger.” Alina hugs herself, her face paling as if she had not a drop of blood left in her veins. “There’s two of them…”
My spell reaches the gagargi at the exact same moment as my little sister falls limp on the floor. The gagargi swats his palm at the back of his head. Does he feel my spell?