Laureline waited outside the door as her father told Ardisia to go to the capital.

She had heard of the capital from her mother. Hedith wasn’t well traveled, but she had been to Vindonne a few times with the baronet. It had been before Fenix was born. After having children, Hedith remained on the estate while Wright left and conducted his business alone. He returned with gifts, but it was not the same.

Her mother spoke about the capital like it was a magical place, and Laureline had been looking forward to visiting in the summer. She had seen the queen dressed in clothing that seemed ahead of hers, wearing jewelry that was newly smithed, and she had noticed the way the queen had been unimpressed by everything Laureline was proud of.

Queen Verista was not moved by Laureline’s pretty face. She didn’t care about their wonderful garden or well-kept manor. Instead, she cared about Ardisia, who was nothing special at all.

Laurel had been taught her whole life that she was special. Everyone new whom she had met confirmed those teachings. They were kind to her because she was beautiful and charming, they adored her because she was a proper young lady, and no one was ever surprised when she said she wanted to be a princess.

Except now, Laurel would be left behind, while her younger sister was taken to the capital. The queen had measured her and Ardisia, and found Laurel to be wanting. Laurel barged into the room, ignoring Ardisia. She knew she wasn’t at her most beautiful. Her face was splotchy from crying, her dress wrinkled from the day of walking around, and when she spoke her voice wasn’t sweet or pleasing.

“How can you let her go?!” she yelled. “I’m the one who should go! I’m the one who’s special!”

“Not in the queen’s eyes,” her father said, and it was final. Laurel felt herself shrinking in her father’s eyes, her value diminishing and Ardisia’s rising.

“I will go with her then,” Laurel announced. “Once the people at court see me, they will want me as crown princess.”

“They will not want an uninvited guest as anything,” her father said. He rubbed his temples with both hands, leaning back against his chair.

“Perhaps we could send her there just for a few days to see—” Hedith began.

“We will send Laureline to the Grayne Finishing School,” Wright interjected. “I thought a governess and private education at home would be enough, but it appears not.”

“A finishing school?” Laurel asked. She had wanted to leave home, but not to go to some stuffy finishing school. Finishing schools were the domain of less rich people, or girls who had some defect or poor temperament. Her governess at home loved her and told her that her etiquette was perfect. “I won’t go!”

“My lord!” Hedith exclaimed. “Laurel is far too young to leave home.”

“All children have to make their way in the world. Her younger sister has already found herself a starting place,” Wright said. “Ardisia will have to live among strangers, being a friend to the princess without complaint. She is three years younger than Laurel, and she has not made a single complaint about this so far. She understands what must be done to secure our family’s future.”

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Sia nodded in agreement. She would let them all fight amongst themselves. She had a feeling it would only get worse after she left. The Kaldors functioned as a hierarchy, and when she who was the lowest one in that system left, someone else would take her place. And that someone else would not take it lying down like she had.

Hedith changed course. “And what if Ardisia falls ill while she is in the capital? What if she—”

Sia knew her mother had accepted her death. For Hedith, Sia dying was not a tragedy but some inevitable thing.

“I think I will tell my maids to begin packing my things,” Sia said.

“No,” Wright said. Sia hoped that he hadn’t changed his mind. It was true that the royal family would forgive them if they didn’t send her to the capital. After all, she was very young. If they told the queen about her frail health, it was completely believable. She twisted her fingers into the skirts of her dress, trying to come up with responses to any objections her father might present. “You will require a new wardrobe entirely. You cannot go to the capital wearing the clothes you’re wearing now. It is a lucky thing that the queen did not notice during her visit, but you are not presentable. Whoever your tailor and cobbler are, they have done their work most poorly.”

“Yes father,” Sia said. So it was only a matter of him not wanting to lose face in front of other nobles. She couldn’t help the smile that formed on her face. All of her previous life, she had lived in Laureline’s cast-offs. Even when they had moved to the capital after Laurel’s coming of age, Sia was told to be satisfied with Laurel’s old clothes. Her mother and Laurel were convinced that nothing would look good on her anyway, and so they plied her with the bright colors and bejeweled dresses Laurel preferred.

“Children, leave the room,” the baronet said. “Your mother and I have things to discuss.”

Sia obediently offered him a curtsy before heading out. Fenix beat her to the door. He was the least concerned out of all of them, and only wanted to get back to his swordplay. He held the door open for her, offering her an exaggerated bow and laughing as he ran off once she was through the door. Laureline stepped out after her and closed the door to the office.

They stood in the corridor, and Sia realized how her siblings were now children. Laureline’s words came back to her, but the Laureline she remembered from her final moments was not the Laureline in front of her. The little girl whose dress was wrinkled from her running was not the same as the perfect crown princess. This anger and outrage was Laurel’s true face, and Sia crossed her arms.

She was an adult fighting against children now, and she wouldn’t let them win like she had in the past.

“Tell father that you’re not going!” Laurel hissed. She checked the door to make sure her parents hadn’t heard, and grabbed Sia by the arm, dragging her further along the corridor until they were far enough away from their parents. Sia looked down at her arm, and carefully extricated herself from Laurel’s grip.

“They won’t like you there,” Laurel said. “They’ll see that you’re not funny, not pretty. And you’re sick, on top of it all. They’ll send you back.”

“I’ll do what I can to impress them while I’m in the capital,” Sia said. “Hopefully my good qualities outweigh my bad ones.”

“It should have been me,” Laurel said. “You came in the middle and distracted the queen, like an idiot.”

“If you were truly so wonderful,” Sia said. “Nothing I did would have made her choose me over you. Our mother thinks you are the best, and all the servants who she pays know better than to disagree with her. You’re prettier than I will ever be, Laurel. But that does not make you better.”

Laurel laughed. “That’s what ugly people always say. They talk about how looks aren’t everything.”

“Beauty is important, Laurel. But name one thing you have other than your beauty?” Sia asked. “You’re like a necklace made of paste. Underneath that thin layer of something that looks like gold, there’s only brass at best.”