“Court—” Celestia gently pats our sister’s arm—“meet Sibilia.”
It’s only then that Sibilia opens her eyes. Her gaze is gray and deep like mountain valleys and stormy seas, and it reminds me of… Mama. Our sister has grown so pretty and also very wise. I don’t know why this thought makes me teary, but it does. I rub my eyes quickly, before anyone can grow worried about me. This is Sibilia’s night.
“Father Moon.” Celestia holds a white feather on her upturned palms. I think it’s a swan feather, because though her hands are parted, the feather rests at ease. And though I’ve never been part of this ceremony before, I’m sure this isn’t how it’s supposed to go. She shouldn’t be the one introducing our sister to Papa. She shouldn’t be holding a feather. In her place should stand a gagargi with a swan soul bead. “Welcome your daughter to shine by your side, as in life also in death.”
There’s a heavy, swollen pause as we wait for the fall that must follow. My oldest sister’s hands tremble under the feather’s weight, just a little, but too much still. Though a week has passed since she sent the gagargi away empty-handed, she still tires easily.
“Honored swan, bear my message to the Moon.” Celestia further parts her hands, and it’s as if the two chandeliers decided to dim at that moment. I look around and realize, it’s only me again. Or no one else has noticed this.
The feather falls. No, it doesn’t fall, but floats, slowly, back and forth before Celestia. When it meets the floor, it should shatter and release the swan soul, though of course it can’t, not when it’s but a feather. And that’s wrong because Papa will never learn that Sibilia has turned sixteen, that if she were to die she should become a star by his side!
The feather sways, lands on the planks, against Celestia’s white hem. The guards start clapping, smile broadly at Sibilia. The ghosts clap, though their hands make no sound. Merile claps, and Rafa and Mufu wag their tails. I blink again and again because I’ve decided that I won’t cry, no matter what, and when I next look at the feather it has turned black.
No, not black. A thinnest veil of gray has stretched out from Celestia’s hem. It shifts through the feather, taking shape. I stare at the feather, glance at my sisters and the guards. They’re still clapping. This is again one of those things only I can see.
The gray shape twirls into the faintest shadow of a tiny swan. It perches on its webbed feet, extends its long neck, lifts its delicate head up. I don’t know where this shadow came from, or I know because I saw it. But I don’t dare to even glance at Celestia. I need to, want to see what happens next.
The tiny swan tries its wings. Finding them light and steady, it rises with ease into the air, beak parted for a song even I can’t hear. Three more flaps of the wings, and it soars past the chains of maple leaves, through the ceiling, and then it’s gone, on its way to tell Papa about Sibilia’s debut.
Though it’s all so strange, I feel better now that I know our father will know.
“You may congratulate Sibilia,” Celestia announces. I try and meet her gaze, but she is talking to the guards. I’m curious to find out if she noticed what just came to pass. Where did the swan come from? Was it of her doing? It wasn’t the same one that brought the news of Mama’s death, I’m sure of that.
“Thank you.” Sibilia giggles, a hand lifted to cover her plump mouth. Celestia smiles as she places a palm on our sister’s shoulder. She knows how the sacred ceremonies should go. She’ll follow them as well as we can here. Yes, she must have been the one who brought the tiny swan to life, though I can’t even begin to guess how she did it.
Sibilia straightens her back and extends her right hand toward the guards. Captain Janlav is the first to approach her. The ghosts watch in silence as he presses his lips on my sister’s gloved fingers and meets her eyes. She jiggles on the spot, giggling. Captain Janlav laughs. I’m pretty sure this isn’t part of the ceremony, but there’s no swans left to witness anything.
Beard, Tabard, Belly, Boots, and Boy follow their captain’s lead. They don’t laugh, though. Apart from Boy, but his snickering sounds nervous, and he blushes awfully lot, even worse than Sibilia!
“Now.”
Who spoke to me? I have to glance around me twice before I spot Olesia waving at me. Why is she doing so? Ah, yes, the dance cards! My very important task!
I tiptoe to Sibilia and curtsy as Elise taught me. “May I present you this evening’s dance card?”
“Why, Alina…” My sister’s cheeks glow in the same shade as the dance card’s roses. “That you certainly may!”
I give her the first dance card. Celestia accepts hers with a smile, as does Elise. I like seeing my sisters cheerful. But there’s something off in their smiles, something I can’t quite name. They’re happy, though we’re locked into this room, though nothing is quite as it should be. But they’re really happy, and maybe that’s all that matters.
After the official ceremony is over, which is pretty soon, Elise announces that it’s time to enjoy the refreshments, as she calls them. Merile cranks the gramophone, and the notes of the opera flap across the room like swallows with soaking-wet wings. Though I like music, my stomach knots. It’s the same sad song that the awful Captain Ansalov was listening to the day we first met him. My sisters and the guards chat by the table moved before the windows. They don’t seem to care about the music. They trust in the agreement between the two captains. It has the gagargi’s blessing, after all. Captain Ansalov won’t dare to break it.
I remain by the curtains closest to our rooms. I should join my sisters, but I don’t want to, not even if Rafa and Mufu are both there, as are the ghosts. I don’t feel like it, and I can’t make myself feel like it either, even though I try really hard.
“Punch?” Elise hands over glasses filled to the brim, though no two are matching and some should be called cups or mugs. There’s pastel cookies and treats of many sorts, but I don’t want any. Sweet things always make me dizzy, and I’m already confused and lonely.
Boots stomps to claim a cup. “Yes, please!”
I fidget with the black grain I found earlier. Everyone is in a great mood, even Celestia, though she has had to sit down on a sofa chair to rest. The guards jest with my older sisters and the bravest of them even ask to be favored with a dance or two. They think that everything that has happened so far will soon be over, though it won’t be. It won’t ever be over for me and my sisters.
Someone pokes at my knee. It’s Rafa, her big brown eyes wide and pleading. She’s mistaken the grain for a treat. I’ve got nothing for her. “Sorry, Rafa.”
And it’s because I talk with Rafa that I miss whatever happened by the table.
“Oh, well…” Elise laughs, flicking her hand, spraying red drops around her. Boy stands before her, blushing terribly, a half-empty glass in his hands. As the red drops land every which way, on Elise’s hem and the guards’ tunics, he mutters apologies. My sister will have none of that. “It’s only a glove!”
But it’s not only a glove. The white satin is no longer so, but very, very red, and for some reason this fills me with dread. I shrink back, toward the curtains, though it’s not night yet, and even if it were, Papa couldn’t see me.
“Really, it’s quite all right,” Elise repeats.
Rafa presses herself against my knees, back arched. I pick her up and hold her against my chest. Nothing is all right. My sister is lying.
The grandfather clock strikes six then, and everyone falls silent. Though I know what’s to come, I’m afraid. But I’m also sure that I’m the only one who realizes the foulness of this night.