One

Isla stared at Ruby after their aunt walked out, feeling only flutters of nervousness where her stomach used to be. It all seemed too good to be true. Even though she tried not to be suspicious of generous people, she always was. Mother had taught her to take care of herself. That sometimes meant speculating on people’s motives.

Isla had not expected to be welcome in e’Silea. When Uncle Rupert took them in after Mother’s funeral, he was not accommodating at all. He made it obvious Isla and her sister were a nuisance, and eagerly searched for another placement for them. That was just fine for Isla. She did not need anyone to take care of her. She was nearly an adult and could care for herself. Her uncle’s attitude had not bothered her much, but it was the standard by which she judged others now.

Vara of Capitol was far too welcoming for Isla’s comfort. Giving them their own massive bedrooms was unnecessary, and an entirely new wardrobe was excessive. Not even expecting them—allowing them!—to do their own laundry…? It all seemed a little suspicious. Isla did not know what to think, and she had an uneasy feeling.

“What’s wrong?” Ruby whispered once they were alone.

Though Isla did not want to spoil everything for her sister, Ruby was not so young that she could not understand the strangeness here. She murmured, “I’m wondering when the other shoe will drop.”

Ruby scowled and gave a huff. “You worry too much! She’s nice.”

Isla nodded. Vara was certainly courteous, no doubt about that.

“It’s all too much, Ruby. You understand? We are orphans who were just dropped into her hands with little warning.” She pointed in confusion toward the direction her aunt had gone. “She is treating us like royalty!”

Ruby gesturing around and the room that could only have been made for a princess. “What’s wrong with that? It’s nice to be treated. It’s nice to be wanted.”

Isla shook her head and shot her own suspicious glance around the room. “There must be a catch of some kind. No one does this! You know that, right? Maybe if we were very small—babies or a little older—someone would be willing to adopt us and treat us like their own children. But we’re nearly adults, Ruby! It makes no sense.” She narrowed her eyes at the doorframe. “Did you notice the way she checked the dust on the doorframe? She has high standards. This is a very large, very fine house.”

“I know!” Ruby tried to argue.

Isla cut her off, “Perhaps Aunt Vara accepted us because she wants unpaid servants.” It seemed the only likely reason Isla could imagine.

“Maybe she’s just nice.”

Isla stared hard at her younger sister but decided not to argue. Instead, she changed the subject. “What were you thinking, losing your temper, Ruby? I’m not sure if I have enough coins left to even buy a meal here! What would we have done if she threw us out?”

Ruby’s face flamed to her hairline. She looked away from Isla’s gaze, around at the beautiful room with its flowing curtains and bright tapestries. “I know,” she whispered in self-reproach. “I thought they were questioning our attachment to mother. I overreacted.”

“You can’t overreact again. You have got to control your temper.” But Isla knew her words were useless. She had been cautioning Ruby against losing her temper all their life. Especially since Mother grew so ill, Isla needed them both to seem well-behaved and quiet. Ruby had the unfortunate habit of speaking before she thought. More than once it had landed her into trouble. It made trouble in school, for Mother’s business, and often at home. Mother had usually brushed it off with a slight admonition. Isla could not be so passive, though. Ruby’s temper could cause more problems than the girls could handle on a new land, with new laws and customs.

“I know,” Ruby replied hotly, but her face was still flushed.

“It’s important, Ruby. They may have laughed off your temper earlier, but they probably won’t laugh forever. Most people do not like to be yelled at by the people they are doing huge favors for.”

“I know!”

Isla pointed a stern finger at her sister, but let it go.

She looked around the pink and mint-green room and shook her head slightly. It was ridiculous extravagance, but it made her smile. To think, she had spent her life sharing a bed with her sister, and tonight she would be expected not only to sleep in her own bed, but in her own room. She caught Ruby’s eye, and nodded her head toward the door, inviting her sister to tour the room across the hall with her. Ruby followed eagerly, the color fading from her cheeks.

Isla’s room was similar, but the colors were navy blue and yellow. The bed in here was on a slightly raised platform, and seemed to be rounded rather than rectangular. Isla puzzled over how she would find sheets for a rounded mattress.

She did not have a chance to think about sheets for long. She saw sorted piles of clothes on the bed and flushed as brightly as Ruby had. Imagining Argos picking through her dirty panties in order to fold them on the bed made her want to burrow straight into the ground. She looked away before she burst into humiliated flames.

There were no floor pillows in this room, but there was a set of two over-stuffed chairs with a small table between them. The desk in this room was also white, but was rounded like a table, and had three shelves rather than two. The double doors to the balcony were open, and there was a set of two chairs and a table out there as well. In one corner of the room was some kind of padded, narrow table. A cart sitting beside it had glass bottles and candles all over it. Isla had no concept of what to make of it. She resolved to explore it more thoroughly later.

Her closet was actually a tiny room with shelves and hanging bars on three sides. Isla could not imagine ever having enough clothes to fill those shelves. She was relieved when she realized there was not also a dresser expected to hold her wardrobe. She only ever had one pair of shoes, two work-dresses, and one formal dress in her life. There was a door into her own toilet as well, and she shook her head in disbelief. She and Ruby could easily have shared this space.

“What’s wrong? Don’t you like it?”

Isla’s eyes widened and she shushed her sister. “Ruby! Be quiet. I don’t want to seem ungrateful.”

Ruby’s expression was as dry as her tone. “Not liking a room you are given does not make you ungrateful. Complaining about it does, and you never complain.”

That was true enough. She never even complained when her mother failed to make enough money to provide dinner for them. Ruby was right about opinions not making her ungrateful, as well, so Isla looked around the room with the intent of forming one.

“Do you like yours?” she asked.

When Ruby did not immediately answer, Isla swiveled to get a good look at her. The younger girl shrugged. “It’s a lovely room.” Isla nodded in agreement, and looked around once more, until her sister added, “Big.”

Isla let out a breath she did not know she was holding. “Yes,” she agreed on the exhale. “Very, very big. I scarcely know how we’ll get any chores done, with a room this big to clean each day.”

That must not have occurred to Ruby, because she pulled a face. “Yeah…”

Isla moved toward the bed, and whispered, “He touched my clothes.”

Ruby joined her beside the folded, piled clothing. All she said was, “Yeah,” once more, in a whisper, too.

Isla touched the pile of underclothes, and tried not to blush again. Ruby was blushing, too, but when she spoke, Isla realized her discomfort had a different root.

“I won’t wear clothes that are see-through, Isla, no matter what Vara and Chloris wear. I won’t do it, even if it’s impolite to turn it down.”

Isla put an arm around her sister and pulled her into a hug. “That’s alright. I won’t dress that way either!”

Isla wanted to cry, for a lot of reasons. The journey on the ship had been long and uncomfortable, and even though most people left them alone, no one had been kind or considerate. The second ship was scarcely less-frightening. And all the months of pent-up fear of rejection, or cruelty, had put a stain on enjoying her return to land. Isla was hungry, and worried, and completely out of place. But she did not cry, because Ruby needed her to be strong.

“It’s okay,” Ruby said in a comforting voice, and Isla smiled against her sister’s cheek. When they separated, they both looked around the room once more, then Ruby said, “I better sort my clothes. I don’t want Argos to come back and do it.” Isla nodded agreement and watched as her sister walked out the door and across the hall into the pink room.

Isla had not grown in over two years, except perhaps thinner on the ship while she was sea-sick for months. Nothing in her clothing was strictly clean, not even the dress on her body. She piled everything on the floor beside the door and then looked around the room again. Not sure what to do with herself, she sat down on the edge of the bed. The bed-covers were the softest material she had ever touched, and she found herself spinning onto her knees to examine them more closely. She could not be certain, but she thought it was silk! She saw silk in the general store once, but never touched it. Silk was extremely delicate; the oils from hands could stain it. Isla popped off the bed immediately, worried that her soiled clothing and hands might ruin it. But besides being slightly mussed, the bed covers looked exactly as they did before.

Not able to bring herself to sit back down on the bed, she walked to the patio chairs. They were made out of some kind of hard vines woven together. Once she lifted the decorative cushions off the seat, she sat down. The vines bit at her thighs and backside, giving good reason for the cushions, but they were so lovely she did not dare sit on them.

Behind her, she heard a bit of laughter. She spun to look, and then immediately stood up when she saw Chloris standing in the doorway. A bit sheepish, Isla replaced the cushions and walked inside.

“What are you doing?” Chloris asked in a teasing tone of voice.

“I…um…sitting. Your mother told us to relax.”

Chloris grinned. “Have you ever relaxed before?” She did not wait for an answer. She walked to the bed and dropped a pile of bright clothes on top of the comforter. “I brought you some options. I’m sure nothing will fit well, but it should do for tonight. Tomorrow Vara should have the chance to make a purchase.” She looked Isla up and down. “You must be absolutely roasting in that dress.”

Isla was very warm. She had been too warm in her clothes for a few weeks, but especially now there was no sea breeze to cool her. The breezes from outside helped a little, but even they were warm. Her dress was made for a much cooler climate.

“Yes, I’m very warm. Thank you.”

Chloris cocked her head to the side. “You’re extremely polite, kid.”

It was a strange observation, and Isla had no concept of how to respond, so she ignored the comment. She asked, “What shall I do with the clothes I don’t pick? Just hang them in the closet?”

But Chloris said no. “Don’t do that. Argos or Galen will do that. It’s their responsibility.” Then she smiled. “Would you like one of them to draw you a bath? They can make it cool for you, since you’re basically melting.”

Isla could not imagine having someone draw her a bath. She only recalled a handful of actual baths in her life. Usually she and Ruby washed at a basin in the house each day, and only washed their hair once a week on an off-school day so it had adequate time to dry. Bathing always seemed like a luxury for the rich, and the few times she was privileged enough to get into a tub, it was a magical experience. But she could not comprehend the wastefulness of drawing a full bath just for herself.

“Well…” she said, trying to find a polite way to refuse. “It does sound lovely, but…”

Chloris waved away any argument and called out the door, “Galen! Come draw Mistress Isla a bath!” She grinned back at Isla. “He’s good at his craft, I promise you. He could even stay to bathe you if you want…” She paused long enough that Isla’s horror could not be masked in her expression, and then Chloris laughed. “I thought not. He can draw the bath and leave, if that’s better.”

A man stepped into the room, wearing shorts exactly like Argos’. He was darker-skinned than Argos, and had darker hair, but his light green eyes twinkled more brightly, and he actually spoke. “Would you like it to be cool? It’s a scorcher out there today!”

“Yes,” Chloris answered him, when Isla failed to find words to speak. “Cool, but enjoyable, Galen. And she wants her privacy in there, so leave her the towels and cloths.”

“Yes, Mistress,” Galen answered, and walked past Isla into the toilet.

She stared after him in shock. There was a tub in her room? It was so extravagant, she could hardly think straight. People in Louvel were extremely wealthy if they had even one tub in their whole house. But in Vara’s house, she had tubs in every room? It was more than Isla could grasp. How wealthy must Aunt Vara be?

“When he’s finished, send him to Ruby’s room. She should bathe too,” Chloris commanded as she walked out. For a few uncomfortable minutes, Isla stood in the center of the room, not sure what to do or how to respond to Chloris’s instructions. She finally walked to the bed, and began sorting through the clothing to find something that would work for her. There were no pieces that were sheer, to her relief, but also nothing that seemed even remotely like something she could wear. She chose a dress that had tiny capped sleeves, and seemed a respectable length, though it would never fit her around. It also had a belt, so she hoped she could cinch it tight to her waist. She stared at it doubtfully for a while, turning it every which way, trying to decide if a plunging section was meant for the back or the front. And trying to figure out how to close it up.

Galen walked out and offered her a smile. “If the temperature is not right, let me know. I can adjust it.”

Surprised, Isla spun to look at the tub. “You did that so quickly,” she exclaimed. “Didn’t you have to heat the water?”

Galen shook his head. “No. It’s heated in the kitchens and piped up to the bedrooms. We always have the water heated, just in case.” He winked at her. “Did Mistress Chloris say I should fill the tub across the hall too? I thought I heard her say that.”

Isla nodded, but she was distracted by the tub full of water, and what he could have meant by “piped up” to the rooms. She moved toward the tub, a little entranced by the idea of sitting in a bath. It felt decadent, really. She wondered if her mother would approve.

Snatching the dress she chose, and a pair of silk panties, she walked into the toilet and closed the door behind her. The room was much bigger than she originally thought, much bigger than it needed to be. But it was lovely. There were narrow, horizontal windows high up in the walls, open to allow a slight breeze. The tub was three times the size of any she had ever seen before, and filled to near the top with water, sprinkled with flower petals. Towels hung over a rack on one wall beside a towel-draped bench. A cloth was draped over the edge of the tub, with a razor and lotion-soap on top. Isla shook her head and drew a sharp breath at how spoiled she was to get this kind of treatment.

Being spoiled, though, did not stop her from shucking her clothing and slipping into the tub full of scented water. Her mouth fell open in pure delight, and she let her eyes slide shut. She tried to relax then and forget about her fears. Aunt Vara had no feasible reason to spoil her. Maybe there was no other shoe.

Two

Isla crossed the hall into Ruby’s room to find the girl still sitting in the tub up to her neck. Isla quickly looked over her shoulder toward the hall, afraid Ruby would be caught luxuriating overlong. When she moved to the tub to hasten her, she found the younger girl asleep against the pristine white tub ledge. She hesitated waking her. Ruby did not sleep well on either ship. Seasickness got to her, but she also regularly suffered from nightmares and fitful slumber. Sleep seemed too precious to waste.

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Ruby awoke on her own though. She sat upright when she saw Isla beside the tub, blue eyes shining and wide “Am I late?”

Isla shook her head slightly. “I don’t think so. No one has come searching for us. But perhaps you should speed this along now. I don’t want them to think we are lazy and ungrateful.”

Ruby pulled a face but, for a wonder, made no argument. She only picked up a cleansing cloth and attended to the task.

Isla sorted through the pile of clothing on Ruby’s bed in an attempt to find something suitable. There were no sheer clothes in this pile either, but these were even harder to pick through than her own selections. Nothing seemed to be complete, missing length on the hemline or sleeves. One even seemed to be a collection of ribbons rather than clothing. Isla had no concept of how it was meant to be worn. She selected a crimson dress of a respectable length, but was forced to pair it with a gray silk blouse. The dress by itself had only a tie that she supposed was meant to wrap around the neck, but it left the entire back, arms, shoulders, and armpits on display! The gray blouse, though not at all complimentary to the dress, would keep Ruby decently covered.

When the girl emerged from the bathing room, Isla presented the clothing she gleaned from the pile. At her sister’s doubtful expression, Isla explained, “I know it’s not perfect, but with the garishness of their color choices, perhaps they won’t even notice.”

Ruby said nothing—she did not have to, because her face spoke volumes on their own—and proceeded to dry and dress herself. Isla walked across the room to the vanity while she waited. Picking up the ivory-handled hair brush from its brush-shaped silver plate on the vanity, she drew it through her own damp hair. In the humidity, she was not sure how quickly it would dry, although the heat would surely help it along. She absentmindedly counted the strokes, as she always did when she brushed her hair. Her mother used to laugh at her for the habit, usually scolding her playfully that ten strokes was plenty if it detangled the hair and tamed it. But Isla had learned to comb her hair from her father—and he had always counted one-hundred strokes.

At 27, Ruby interrupted with a sigh of frustration. “Does the blouse go over or under the dress?”

Isla turned and saw the girl fighting to hide the gray blouse beneath the red dress, and completely destroying its perfect lines.

“I think neither,” Isla answered. “They aren’t intended as a pair, but nothing in the pile has the slightest degree of modesty. Just wear the blouse over the top and we will find a belt to cinch to your waist.”

Ruby was obviously displeased with the solution, but she obeyed. She joined Isla at the vanity on stroke 62. She used a towel to vigorously dry her hair while watching Isla’s progress in the mirror. The seriousness on her face carried weight. It did that when she had something to say that she thought Isla would dislike.

Isla paused on stroke 84 and asked, “What is it?”

Better the girl should voice her concerns than she should bear them in silence and distort her face.

Placing the now wet towel on the vanity, Ruby stared hard at Isla in the mirror. “Please just try to like them, Isla. Please just give them a chance. They knew mother—as incredible as that seems—and they loved her. Maybe I am just being naïve, but I would like to think they are sincere in their welcome. I do not think they will dismiss us as easily as Uncle Rupert did. I do think they want us here.”

She was being naïve, but Isla did not say so. People did not welcome foreign orphans into their established homes and set them up to live like kings. That sort of generosity was the fodder for imaginative stories, but not reality. People held to their own and did not like anything that disturbed from their routine. She and Ruby, as polite and as well-behaved as they were at their very best, must still be an inconvenience and a nuisance to anyone forced to take them in. Their mother’s death could not have been timed more inconveniently.

Yet, for Ruby’s sake, Isla kept her doubts to herself. “They both seem to be very generous and welcoming.” If nothing else, it was kind of Vara to allow them both to bathe and dress in clean clothes. It had been months since their clothing was been truly clean and comfortable.

Isla continued her count until she finished, and then she passed the brush to her sister. Ruby was not fooled by Isla’s blithe comment. Her apprehension clouded her gaze and fueled the ferocity of her own one-hundred strokes.

Isla went in search of another belt to wrap around her sister, and ended up having to satisfy herself with a wide white ribbon she removed from another outfit she could not make sense of. While Ruby tamed her hair, Isla belted the gray shirt over the top of the red dress, and pulled at and arranged the garments until Ruby leaned away in silent resistance. It was hopeless anyhow—it would never look as though the two pieces were meant to go together.

In silence, Isla braided Ruby’s hair and the girl in turn offered her the same service. The hair would not dry as easily this way, but at least it would not look like they were unkempt and wild.

“One year,” Isla murmured at her sister. “We have to keep them satisfied with us for only one year, and then we can be on our own and all will be well.”

Ruby gave her a long-suffering look. Possibly because she made similar speeches all the way from Mainland, and so it wasn’t news. But Isla didn’t say it to remind the other girl; it was to comfort herself. In one year, she could be legally considered her own caretaker, and she could keep Ruby too. She would provide for them both somehow, until Ruby could work. It was the plan—it had been the plan since mother took ill.

“Everything is going to be fine,” Ruby insisted. Isla gave her the smallest of smiles, but could not bring herself to agree with the her assessment.

The worst they can do to us is be unkind, she comforted herself. The worst they can do is kick us out.

Three

Ruby led the way down the stairs into the main area of the house, her bare feet padding softly on the stone steps. Isla followed behind, examining the finery that surrounded them. There seemed to be statuettes and vases everywhere, and paintings on the walls. Her eyes had to move too quickly—there was no way to take it all in in one quick jaunt down the steps.

In the main area of the house, there were oversized couches and chairs, black wood end tables and a stone coffee table. The windows here were draped with sheer curtains blowing the breeze, as every window was open to capture the breezes. This room held more finery. There was a matched set of paintings on one wall of ocean vistas. On a high table along one wall sat miniature portraits in delicate frames and candle enclosures that looked a little like lanterns. Isla’s eyes could scarcely settle on one item before something else caught her eye. The wealth virtually screeched at her from every corner.

“Look, Isla! It’s mother.”

Ruby stood at the table of miniatures, pointing at one of the framed portraits. Isla moved beside her sister to inspect the illustration. Gold stenciled words on the frame named the child “Ava” but if this was Isla’s mother, there was no way to tell. The child could scarcely be more than four years old, with ragged black curls and a crooked smile. The expression of her eyes hinted at mother, but they lacked the maturity and worry adulthood inevitably produced.

“She was beautiful, huh?”

At the sound of Chloris’ voice, Isla and Ruby both turned around. The older woman seated herself in an overstuffed chair and curled her bare feet beneath her. With her head cocked to one side, she bore a strong resemblance to mother in mannerisms rather than looks. When neither girl answered her, Chloris nodded toward the miniatures behind them.

“Ava, I mean. She was a beautiful child. Everyone always commented on it. They would stroke her head and say ‘You’re so beautiful!’ and then they would notice me and add something like, ‘All little girls are beautiful in the eyes of the Goddess.’ As if I couldn’t see through that half-assed compliment.” She gave a good-natured smile. “But it was true what they said about her. She was always a beautiful girl. She turned heads in the street every day.”

Isla wondered what that must have been like for their mother, to turn heads. She was beautiful, though Isla knew she went to great lengths to cover it up. She always tied back her luxurious hair and covered it with head scarves. Layers of warm clothing covered the curves of her body. She had kept her head down in the streets and moved quickly. If she had not been so determined to be ignored, she might have made heads turn. At home, when she was in her nightgown for the evening, and her hair was brushed out and hanging down her back, and her eyes sparkled with laughter and amusement, she was beautiful.

“Yes. She was stunning,” Isla agreed.

She would have been content if nothing more was said about it, but Ruby’s tongue was unrestrained.

“Mother was the most beautiful person in the world,” she gushed, crossing the room to sit beside their cousin. On her knees on the couch, like an ill-mannered heathen! Isla tried to gesture at her to sit on her bottom and cross her ankles like a lady, but the child was focused solely on Chloris, who was likewise focused on Ruby. “Sometimes I would just lay with her in bed, wishing her beauty could be gained by merely sitting beside her. I would close my eyes and…” she demonstrated, squeezing her eyes shut like a five-year-old making a wish on a birthday cake. “wish I could look more like her. I even once took coals from the fire to blacken my hair.” She pulled a face. “It made a mess and was not beautiful at all. But, she never thought I was not beautiful.” A sad smile on Ruby’s face and a faraway expression made Isla’s eyes burn. Memories could become addictive, so Isla immediately shut them down. Mother was gone. She was dead, and memories of her could not make the situation better. The important thing to do now was to move on. There was work to do.

“I used to wish I could look like her too,” Chloris confessed into the stillness after Ruby’s gushing words. “And smell like her and act like her. She filled the temple with fun and joy.”

Ruby nodded along, entranced. “What I miss most about her was her laugh. When mother laughed, it was like angles singing. Like the very light from heaven poured in on her tongue and bounced about the house, making everything sparkle. And I tingled all over with it. When she laughed, I swear I could feel her love in it.”

Chloris looked away, a sad smile pulling at her lips. She whispered, but in the quiet room, her words were plain. “I miss her every day.”

Ruby placed a delicate hand on the woman’s leg and admitted, “Me too. Every moment.”

“What about you, Isla?”

Vara’s voice was not gentle and did not whisper into the stillness. Her voice cracked them out of their memories as she glided into the room. “You seem a great deal more pragmatic than your sister. But what do you miss about Ava?” She seated herself in another chair, one that suited her frame and body weight exactly. Her arms slid to the ends of the arms of the chair, her fingers curling around the edges. Made for her specifically. Impressive.

Isla thought perhaps she ought not to answer, but in the sustained silence, she began to feel pressured. In Vara’s expression of expectance, there seemed to be nothing for it but to answer in some way. She tried very hard to be honest.

“I find I have very little time to miss my mother. There is simply too much to be done in her absence. She was kind and beautiful and courageous. But she is dead. And before she died, the sickness took everything from her—except her unstinting kindness. I would rather not dwell on memories of pain, and think instead of the future. There is work to do.”

Ruby gasped into the silence, as though Isla was harsh or unkind. And truthfully, she admitted to herself that her tone was detached. But if Vara was unhappy with her honesty, she said nothing of it. She only studied Isla with those penetrating, knowing eyes.

Chloris cleared her throat. “Maybe I should check on dinner…?”

Vara waved a hand that seemed to say no, but she spoke to Isla, “You’re very similar to me, child. I find memories of my losses to be counterproductive. Though they plague me at times, all the same. I’m afraid, as much as I loved Ava, and as beautiful and kind as she was, it is not her charms that come to my mind. It’s her cruelty.”

“Vara,” Chloris scolded in a hushed tone. “Not now!”

But Vara ignored her. “And I don’t find memories of cruel childishness to be very inspiring in my day to day work. Because, as you said, Isla, there is work to do. I find I do not have time to waste on pining.”

Isla did not feel as though they were in agreement, because she had in no way indicated her mother was cruel. The pain of that accusation needed to be fought down with vicious force. It was everything Isla could do to keep her face serene and her voice calm. “I keep my tears for my pillow.” And let her aunt take from that what she willed. The worst she can do is be unkind. The worst she can do is kick us out.

But Vara smiled. “Very practical, but also lonely. You needn’t be so strong.”

Isla did not know how to answer that, so she said nothing, and instead looked again at the finery in the room.

FOUR

Ruby filled up the silence. “Isla is very strong. She hardly cried at all when they buried mother.” She gave a sad sigh. “Mother looked so small in that little box.”

Chloris sounded offended. “They put her in a box?”

Isla remembered, though the memory was a haunted one. The ground had been frozen and difficult to cut through, so the mess bill was been much more than expected. And the coffin was made for a child. Isla did not want to think about how the undertaker made her fit in it. Isla had dressed her in a white dress from the back of her closet. It had always been there but was never worn, and at the time Isla wondered if it was the gown in which she married Father. But now, looking around e’Silea, Isla knew the silk gown with draping sheer sleeves had in fact been a memento from here—Mother’s childhood home. It was too big on her slight form, and Isla was forced to pin it to hide how much the sickness had robbed from her fullness and beauty. In the brisk morning, in snowfall, they said a few simple words, and then lowered the coffin into the grave. Isla had forced Ruby to leave the cemetery, or the child would have stood there in the cold, watching them until the last bit of dirt covered the coffin. Isla dragged her away.

“A coffin,” Ruby corrected. “And then buried her during a snowstorm.”

Vara cleared her throat. “They bury people in the ground in Mainland.” She spoke that with authority, and Isla realized she was instructing Chloris.

“But why?”

“Because they like scars of death marring their landscapes.”

Ruby gasped. “What does that mean? Where do you bury your dead?”

Isla turned around, interested in the answer to this question. If they did not bury their dead in the ground, and had no undertakers, however did they dispose of their dead?

Vara answered coolly, with no kind of emotion, as though no one she ever knew needed death services. “In e’Silea, they dead are taken to sea and returned to the goddess through the bounty that preserves us: our ocean.”

Isla was intrigued, but Ruby was clearly horrified. She made a gesture like water lapping toward her. “Don’t the bodies just… come back on the tide?” She pulled a revolted face, as if imagining scores of dead bodies floating onto the beaches in half-decay.

Chloris laughed, and even Vara smiled. “The bodies are weighted, so they sink to the ocean floor. Or are consumed by sea creatures. It makes no difference. The body is flesh. The spirit is what is claimed by the goddess. Once you or I have died, the burial at sea is simply ceremonial. Death is the true separation, when the Goddess collects her citizens to bring to her own temple.”

Isla was struck by their constant reference to a feminine deity. In order to turn the conversation from death, or her mother, she asked, “Do you worship a feminine deity, then? A Goddess? We never had any religion, really.”

Something in the look on Vara’s face made her wish she had not asked, but the answer came with no delay. “I would not call it worship. I have great respect for the Goddess, but as one respects a superior businesswoman rather than as one worships a deity. In my mind, the Goddess represents the pinnacle of e’Silean success. She does not demand worship from her citizens. She expects industry, strength, and the wise disbursement of comforts.”

It did not sound like any kind of religion Isla knew. Religious people always seemed full of words like “worship” and “bow down” and “repent” but none of those words even remotely resembled the way Vara spoke of her Goddess. By her representation, the Goddess could simply be the greater of two equals, living in the fancier house down the street. There was nothing ethereal or divine about that image.

“But you believe you go to heaven when you die?”

Ruby’s question was sincere. Like Isla, she had little concept of religion, except what was forced on them in school.

“I believe the Goddess gathers her citizens,” Vara corrected. “I don’t know about heaven—what it is, what it means—but I believe the Goddess collects her citizens at death, and gives them a space in her temple, or gives them a temple of their own.”

Ruby nodded, as if she caught onto the elusive religious aspect of this. “And are there certain things you have to do to earn a temple? Say prayers and be kind to your fellow men? Pay tithes to a church, and take care of hungry and poor? Refrain from wickedness and unkind words?”

Vara’s smile was cool, and her voice was almost patronizing. “No. I think if you worked hard enough to own and keep a temple in life, the Goddess is not going to refuse you because you once said an unkind word to a business associate or struck an ungrateful slave. I don’t think the Goddess keeps a tally book of my errors. She is not discriminating in life or death.”

Ruby’s eyes took on a hopeful glimmer, and she sat forward, a little too eager. Isla wished she could stop her. But the child asked her question, voice full of faithful optimism. “Does that mean mother is waiting for me in the Goddess’ temple?”

Chloris hissed under her breath, a look nearing panic in her eyes. And Vara’s face clouded over like a violent thunderhead. Idiot, Ruby! Isla thought at her sister’s inability to read a room. Vara rose to her height, and Isla felt she would have to look up forever to actually see her face up there. Her words, though quiet, cracked like a whip. “No, Ruby. I assure you, she is not waiting humbly at the Goddess’ side, surrounded in the joys and comforts of the Goddess’ temple. She is waiting in what will become my temple when I arrive there. Your mother is waiting for me.”

Vara swept from the room. Ruby had the decency to not feel comforted by those words. She sat back hard against her chair, probably wondering what she had done wrong. Isla was not quite so far in the dark. She captured the threat in Vara’s voice. If her interpretation of Heaven was real, their mother had some sins against Vara to atone for.

Isla did not move except to glance at her sister. Ruby looked embarrassed and afraid. Her gaze flitted to Isla’s, pleading for her to somehow break the tension.

Isla could hardly refuse her sister. As Chloris was rising to follow her mother, Isla asked, “Chloris, I meant to ask Vara: what is it she would like us to do?”

Chloris settled back down, giving a smile to lighten the mood. “What do you mean, kid? What she wants you to do is relax from the journey and rest from the grief.”

Because she wants us to be ready for…? But Isla did not ask that question. She thought whatever Vara might be expecting out of them was the other shoe waiting to drop. But Ruby might not be ready to accept that. She just said, “Right, I know that, but I just wanted to know what I could help with. I know my way around the kitchen a little. I can—”

“No,” Chloris replied quickly. It was serious, but not harsh. “No, Vara will not have you working in the kitchens.”

Isla nodded once, but her nerves spiked once more. No sewing. No laundry. No cooking. What was it Vara intended for her and Ruby?

Chloris stood up and smiled at them both. “Listen, it really is okay for you to relax for a little while. I mean, Vara will probably eventually sign you up for Classes, and you’ll probably make friends and begin making all kinds of mischief—like me and your mother when we were your age—Oops! Did I say that out loud?” She winked and moved to the exit. “But you have been through an ordeal, and then the journey. Just rest for a while.” She called over her shoulder. “Dinner won’t actually be for a few hours, but Vara set Galen to preparing you a little something. I send him in.”

Isla moved to Ruby’s side, squishing into the chair beside her. “It’s alright, Ruby.”

Ruby shook her head, fighting back her tears. “I didn’t mean to upset her.”

“I know. It was an honest question. And it doesn’t matter what she thinks, anyway, about mother or where she is. What do you think? That’s all that matters.”

Ruby was quiet for a little too long, and when she finally spoke, it was in a whisper. “I think the idea that mother is waiting for us is very nice. I miss her. I miss her all the time.”

Isla could not allow herself to feel similarly. She had to be here for her sister now. She had to take care of the girl until she could care for herself.

“She’s waiting with father. They’re together again and they’re watching us all the time.”

It may or may not have been true; Isla did not know or have any sort of hope. It seemed to be the right thing to say, though, because it comforted Ruby. She pulled back and settled against the back of the seat.

“Yeah…” Her mind had wandered elsewhere, as it often did.

Galen came in soon after, bringing a platter of various fruits and sandwiches. He spread them on the coffee table in a way that resembled an artistic display.

“Please call if you need anything else,” he instructed with a smile before leaving them alone. Isla watched him curiously.