NOMI

NOMI PICKED UP her bag and threw it furiously across the room. The sickening thud of it hitting the wall made her cry harder, consumed by fear for herself and her sister. Her empty stomach churned. She climbed onto the bed, into the indentation still left in the cloud-light bedding by Serina’s body. She curled up, squeezed her eyes shut tight, and tried to block out every shred of harsh morning light, every thought. Every regret.

But instead, her sister’s voice came back to her. Long before our ancestors’ ancestors were born, there was no land here.

One night a year or two ago, Serina had told the story just for the joy of it. They’d been curled up in one of Mama’s quilts on the floor of their small bedroom. Renzo was supposed to be studying his sums, but he was listening too, leaning back on his elbows, legs stretched out so they touched the far wall.

“One evening,” Serina had recited from memory, her recent singing lessons coating her voice with honey, “as the sun eased toward the horizon and the moon rose from its slumber, two birds flew along the path made on the water by the setting sun. They dipped and sagged, their battered wings barely holding them aloft. Every now and then, one would falter and fall toward the water, all strength gone. The other would dive and catch the first on its back, carrying its partner for a time.

“The two birds traveled this way for many leagues, until the path of the sun had faded and the moon’s silver road appeared. The ocean shimmied and danced beneath the birds, intrigued by their obvious love for each other. The ocean had never loved anything so much, to burden its own back with another’s survival. It didn’t understand why the birds didn’t fend for themselves—the stronger leave the weaker and carry on.

“It took the ocean some time to understand that apart, the birds would never have made it so far,” Serina had continued, wrapping an arm around Nomi’s shoulders. “That their love, their sacrifice, gave them both strength. When at last, the two little birds, their bright red and green feathers tarnished from their long journey, could no longer hold themselves free of the endless water, the ocean took pity on them. Rewarding their steadfastness, it pushed land up from its depths—huge, lush hills with fresh, clean water, towering cypress trees, and all the fruits and berries and seeds they could ever desire. The lovebirds alighted in the shady, cool branches of an olive tree, their tired wings wrapping around each other, their beaks tucked into each other’s feathers. And at last, they were able to rest.”

Back then, it had only been a story, but now she felt it in her bones. Serina loved her that much—enough to sacrifice herself for her sister. Serina could have said it wasn’t her book. She could have said Nomi was the one who could read. But she hadn’t. She couldn’t have, or they’d have come for Nomi too.

She didn’t know what had happened to Serina or if her sister would be back. But Nomi knew Serina had protected her, as she always did. Nomi made the mistakes. Serina cleaned up the mess.

Nomi tightened her arms across her stomach, locked in misery and guilt.

At some point, she fell back asleep, the sheet damp under her cheek from her tears, and dreamt of her sister’s arms holding her up.

When she awoke, someone was leaning over her.

“Serina?” she murmured hoarsely.

“It’s time to get up,” a gentle voice said. “You’ve slept all day.”

Nomi sat up quickly, reality crashing over her.

The girl stepped back to give her space. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” She was about Nomi’s age, with a slight frame, lightly tanned skin, and a small, pointed face. Her tawny hair dangled in a braid down her back, and she stood with her hands clasped together at her waist. There was nothing remarkable about her, nothing of note, except that she wasn’t Serina.

“I’m Angeline, your new handmaiden,” the girl said, bowing slightly. “I’ve brought you some food. It’s well past luncheon.” She pointed to a plate of pastries on the dressing table. “The almond spirals are my favorite. Have you ever had one? They’re a Bellaquan specialty.”

Nomi looked around, disoriented by the late-afternoon sunlight slanting through the room. The clothes from her bag had been folded and neatly placed on an upholstered chair in the corner. A light breeze drifted in the open window. The steady crash of waves hummed in the background.

It all made her sick—the beautiful room, the comfortable bed, even the lovely weather. She felt Serina’s absence like the loss of a limb. How would she survive here without her?

“Where’s my sister?” she asked.

Angeline shook her head. “I don’t know, I’m sorry.…”

Nomi surged to her feet, determined to find Ines—or someone who would know—but the sudden movement sent a patina of color exploding before her eyes. She swayed.

“You should eat,” Angeline said. She tentatively put her hand on Nomi’s arm, drawing her toward the dressing table. “Ines said you missed breakfast as well. You must be famished.”

Nomi sank into the delicate wrought-iron chair. She wanted to reject the food, the pale pink juice in its chilled crystal glass, but she hadn’t eaten since the morning before. Nomi took a bite, the buttery cornetto melting on her tongue. Angeline retired to just outside the half-open bedroom door to give her privacy. For an instant, it felt as if the handmaiden were a guard, and Nomi’s room a prison.

The pastry turned to dust in her mouth, and she struggled to swallow it. She needed to find out where they’d taken Serina and what was going to happen to her. Nomi had never heard of a woman being caught reading before; she had no idea what the punishment was. But surely someone knew. Serina might be sent to a work camp, or ordered to a factory. Best case, they might let her continue working in the palace in a punishing, menial job. Then at least Nomi could be near her.

She stood slowly, to avoid another dizzy spell, and headed for the door. “Angeline,” she said. “I’d like to speak to Ines.”

Angeline lowered her gaze. “I’m sorry. I’m to take you to get cleaned up.”

Nomi opened her mouth to protest, then closed it again. She couldn’t very well storm down corridors demanding to know what had happened to Serina. It wouldn’t help her sister to draw attention to herself. She’d have to wait for the right moment.

“Fine,” she said.

Angeline led Nomi through several empty sitting areas and along a terrace, eventually entering a large room with a vaulted ceiling made of glass, girded with delicate swirls of metal that glinted in the late-afternoon sunlight. A large pool of gently steaming water was sunk into the slate-tiled floor. In the face of such luxury, all Nomi could think of was the small, stained tub in her home, with its creaky pipes and two minutes of hot water a day. Serina had always bathed first—those two minutes had been hers.

Nomi struggled not to cry.

The two other new Graces sat neck-deep in the water as their handmaidens knelt at the edge of the pool to brush out and wash their long hair. In the corner by the door, one of the Superior’s men stood with his back to the room, giving the illusion of privacy.

After Angeline helped remove her wrinkled dress, Nomi lowered herself into the shallow pool, sighing as the warm water enveloped her. While the handmaiden assembled a dizzying array of soaps and lotions, Nomi dunked her hair under the water.

“Ah, our little recluse,” Cassia, the blond one, said when Nomi surfaced. “Missing meals and training on our first day? You’re not worried the Heir will hear of it?”

“No,” Nomi bit out. What did it matter if the Heir was displeased? She had bigger concerns. “My sister, Serina, was taken away this morning. Have you seen her? Or heard anything?”

Cassia affected a concerned frown, her gentian-blue eyes widening. “There were rumors of an… incident. Someone said she’d been removed from the palazzo.”

Removed.

Had they sent Serina back to Lanos? Nomi imagined her arriving home in disgrace. Their parents would shun her. Her prospects for marriage to a wealthy man would evaporate. She’d probably be contracted to the textile factory. Only Renzo would be there to comfort her, but even he would be powerless to help her.

“Who told you that?” Nomi asked.

Cassia shrugged, sending ripples along the surface of the glowing pool. “One of the Superior’s Graces. Rosario seems to know everyone’s secrets here.”

“Not everyone’s,” Maris muttered. The girl’s black hair was swept back, revealing broad cheekbones, ivory skin, and luminous brown eyes. When she noticed Nomi looking at her, she said, more clearly, “Rosario didn’t know if your sister was ill, or if she’d done something wrong. Is she okay?”

A sharp pain slashed through Nomi’s stomach. She wished she knew. But at least Maris’s concern sounded genuine, unlike Cassia’s. “Serina is not ill,” was all Nomi could say. Angeline silently soaped up her hair, her presence a reminder that, wherever Serina was, she wasn’t coming back. Not soon, anyway.

“What a relief,” Cassia said sweetly. She shook out her silver-blond hair, the droplets stinging Nomi’s face, and climbed from the bathing pool. “But then,” she added, cocking her head as if she’d just thought of it, “that means she did something wrong, doesn’t it?”

Nomi didn’t answer, holding her anger in check with an effort. Cassia smiled quite happily as her handmaiden set her robe across her shoulders.

When the girl had left the room, Nomi bent forward, put her face in her wet hands, and groaned. “Why is she so delighted with all of this?”

“She believes she’ll gain from your scandal,” Maris said. “The Heir will choose a favorite, and Cassia hopes it will be her. She has set her sights on becoming his Head Grace.”

“You mean she wants to give birth to the next Heir?” Nomi shuddered. How could that be someone’s goal? “She may have him, and welcome.”

Maris’s dark eyes flashed, but before she could respond, Nomi caught a glimpse of Ines passing by the doorway.

Nomi hurried out of the pool, splashing Maris in her haste. Angeline scrambled after her with a robe.

“Ines, wait!” Nomi’s voice echoed too loudly.

Ines paused in the hallway, frowning.

“You have to tell me—” Nomi began.

Ines grabbed Nomi’s arm and pulled her down the corridor. Eventually, she stopped in an empty sitting room. The last rays of daylight slanted in through the open windows, which she promptly shut.

“You may not challenge me,” Ines said sternly. “There will be no shouting after me, no questions. Especially where the Superior’s men can see. Do you understand?”

“What happened to my sister?” Nomi demanded, undeterred.

“Let it go. You’re lucky the Superior didn’t punish you too,” she said.

Nomi should have been the one punished. It was her book. Her crime. “The book… it wasn’t—” she began, tremors snaking through her body.

“Your sister took responsibility for her actions,” Ines interrupted. “Nothing you say will change her fate.”

“But—”

“Nothing. It is done.” Ines’s eyes filled with an unspoken warning. If Nomi told the truth, Serina would be exposed as a liar, and that held its own punishment. “Now all you can do is stop asking questions and follow the rules. This is your life now, whether you like it or not.”

Then she disappeared through the doorway, leaving Nomi, shattered, in her wake.