Dessert was served to the men in the parlor after the meal, and Zara was forced to join them. She’d been deciding on whether to remain in the dining room instead, but if she had stayed, she would have been stuck with her mother and Sonya. For Zara to spend time with the women would have appeared more natural, but Sonya—with her perfect womanly dining and speaking etiquette—made Zara feel more uncomfortable than Naz did. Sparing herself any more humiliation, she despondently sat in a corner of the parlor, away from her father and brothers, spooning pudding into her mouth. If she truly had a choice, she’d just go back up to her bedroom, but Zahir and Leyli obviously wanted to put on a decent family display in front of their prized son’s even pricier wife.

Zara unwittingly clanked the spoon loudly against the bowl, like an unpolished cretin. She was willing to bet that Sonya could make eating even a simple pudding into a quiet, elegant activity. The way she sat with her posture straight, portioning her food into small bites to avoid her mouth becoming too full and her hands getting too soiled, and using the napkin instead of licking her fingers—which Zara had regretted doing tonight. She burned just thinking about how Sonya had scoffed at her for doing what she normally always did when eating at home. Leyli had then reprimanded Zara for her poor manners in front of everyone.

Even the way Sonya picked up her fucking drink glass, like the most delicate object ever, annoyed Zara to no end. All throughout the uncomfortable meal Zara wanted to just toss back her wine, but with Sonya there, she couldn’t get herself to do something so brazen. Her feelings worsened after her mother’s scolding, and she quit eating altogether.

“Tonight’s not so bad,” Naz was saying. He plated himself another slice of pudding. “I’m glad. I was worried that it’d be too chilly for Sonya.”

“It’s Spring, after all. The weather should be more tolerable even during the nights. This is her first time out here, no?” Zahir asked.

“Yes. Our first vacation in Pria.”

“I still can’t believe that. You’ve been married for quite some time now…”

“I know.”

“You should have—” Zahir cleared his throat, and changed course. “I wish you’d have thought of a visit out here sooner. I know things are busy down in the city—”

“Believe me. They are,” Naz cut him off. His tone was firm, indicating he’d rather not have his father prying into why he chooses to remain as far from the family as possible for years on end.

Zara had always assumed it was because of her—it’s the excuse her parents liked to make, and she knew well how Naz felt about her. But to distance himself the way he had without a care for the rest of the family and with hardly any letters of correspondence unless their parents wrote to him first, Zara couldn’t help but think there may be more to his absence than he let on.

“Of course,” Zahir said. “I was just about to point out that…that you’ve forgotten the weather pattern here, since you’ve been away for so long.”

“The skies are reasonable in Darhai,” Naz remarked lightly. “It made me realize how sickening the cold out here is. Not as uninhabitable as the lands further up north, of course.” He chuckled. “Those damn Mogheiri savages. How they do it, I don’t know.”

“Thick skin, I suppose,” Zahir replied.

“They disgust me.”

Mogheir was an icy land above Pria, in the upmost northern region of the globe where it was cold all year round. It was known to be the coldest place in the world, where none can survive save for the natives—born with enough hair, muscle, fat, and tenacity to remain in such conditions. They were drawn and described in texts looking like a species between human and beast. Zara could understand a bit of disgust, she supposed—they weren’t a very natural looking race. But Naz sounded like the Mogheiri had done something to personally offend him.

The subject quickly moved on as Naz brought up his wife again. “Sonya just happened to be curious now, is all. What with all of the ruckus Zara’s caused—”

“Nazeer!” Zahir scolded, frowning at his son for the first time all evening. “Keep your voice down.”

Naz hardly looked apologetic. “Worried about the maid?”

Zara’s head rushed. She clutched her pudding spoon, catching Rowan’s quick glance over her. He was sitting on a stool at the opposite end of the parlor near the courtyard door, silently listening.

“Yes, but what about your wife? Have you told her anything? How much does she know?”

Naz clucked his tongue. “She knows nothing,” he answered dismissively. “I told her Zara’s inept. She proved that well enough tonight, thank goodness. Some things just don’t change, and I was counting on that. Thank you, Zara.” Naz called to her, pointing his spoon at the pudding plate on the center table. “Come, have some more. You barely ate any of your supper. Do you even eat at all? Baba, she’s so much thinner now.”

Zara set her empty bowl on a dusty shelf next to her. She made no indication of replying to him or accepting his bullshit offer for more pudding, even as he was cutting up a fresh slice. Sure enough, he took that slice for himself with a smug expression. Zara wanted the night to end already. Her headache was weighing her down, and half the time, she felt as though she couldn’t breathe properly—like it was coming out in irregular puffs.

“Good,” Zahir said relieved, ignoring the comment on Zara’s weight. “An excuse like that will do fine. But, what does she make of this…mess.” He regarded Zara with a nasty glare. “Because it has caused a great deal of hassle for the town, and myself, for only Mother knows how long.”

“Being a civil servant in these times is going to be rough.”

“I’m a thorough man. I just want the people to feel safe and not be so…divided.”

“You were saying it earlier, how people are now challenging each other’s faiths over that ceremony. Some are calling it a curse, or a warning. Many find it hard to believe any of this actually happened, that it was only the commotion and darkness that caused all those people to fall. And, I didn’t tell you this earlier, but I heard someone at the memorial boldly claiming that Lilith was the devil’s child all along—”

“Watch it!” Zahir growled so suddenly it made all three of his children flinch. “Don’t repeat those things! She’s our God. So watch your mouth.”

Naz put a hand to his chest, laughing off the fact that he was startled. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I-I don’t believe it myself, Baba. You should know that. I just never expected such talk in this town. Where everyone accepts everyone else.”

“That’s all well, but there isn’t a need to repeat what’s already been said, especially ones so unpleasant.”

“It’s the truth. I just wanted her to hear it, since she doesn’t know.” His tone dropped, as he spoke more to himself now than anyone else. “Such a happy, merry town…almost like a dumb fairy tale.” He peeked at Zara’s face. “Thanks to you, my sister, it’s changed.” His mouth curled.

Zara swallowed. She didn’t like the way he was looking at her. It wasn’t hate or disgust. It reminded her of that night at the bar, so long ago. The men would look at the whores this way. Some had looked at her this way, with a twisted hunger she didn’t dare indulge them with.

Zahir huffed irritably, fingers rubbing his temple. “Sometimes, I don’t know what I should do…”

Naz finally stopped staring and passed his attention back to his father. “Another drink perhaps, Baba? Rowan?” He chortled when Rowan didn’t respond. “Damn mute. Rowan.”

Rowan, who had been absorbed into his own thoughts, snapped his head up and scowled.

“What?” he muttered rudely.

“Be useful for once, and call for the maid. Tell her to bring us some good liquor. And hey,” Naz called out as Rowan hurried out of the parlor, “I’m not gonna let you have any unless you sit your butt down and actually speak to me.”

Rowan rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. Then he left.

“What an attitude,” Naz said. “But, Baba, I’m sure you need to give it time. Do what you do best. Eventually, things will blow over…I mean, it may take a while, but it will come to an end…years down the road. I’m telling you, this will make history.”

“You’re not helping.”

Naz laughed. “Lighten up. People are finding this town more interesting than ever. Just ask Sonya. While she’s horrified by the stories, she’s fascinated by how beautiful Pria is. She wants to see more this week. Perhaps these rumors will attract new residents?”

“A very hopeful outlook, son. That doesn’t erase the damage that’s been made.”

Naz lowered his voice, but kept it sound enough for Zara to hear. “The damage we both know Zara’s caused. All for what, though?” He looked at her, shaking his head in ridicule. “You and your kind…are hopeless.”

Zara didn’t have the heart to be upset. She was too numb. Her stomach still cramped, and she couldn’t help but wonder how long she’d be forced to stay in here before she bled through the seat of her gown.

Rowan came back accompanied by Rauna, who brought a slim bottle and four wine glasses.

“Four?” Naz inquired. “You brought four?”

Rauna paused her pouring, eyeing Zara at the corner of the room in confusion. “I’m sorry, Mister Nazeer, am I mistaken? I was under the impression Miss Zara would be…” She nervously trailed off, and she looked to Rowan for help.

Zahir only sighed gruffly, but made no comment. Zara couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

Rowan seemed just as confused. “Well, yeah?” he told Naz. “You said we could have some if we sat with you, right?”

Naz’s smile was coy. “No. I was only talking about you.”

“…Oh.”

Rauna stood there, mid-pour, at a loss. Zara wished she could tell the woman to just take the extra glass and leave, and forget about her entirely. But she’s been clogged up all night, unwilling to break her own silence.

Naz peered at the bottle with a scrunched nose. “And you brought the red. You know I like white.”

“Um…I actually didn’t know that. You never…said it,” Rowan mumbled.

“Ah. I guess you weren’t listening back in the dining room when I quite literally mentioned how much I was enjoying the white wine.”

Rowan stared at the table, helplessly. Zara also had a habit of tuning out shit she didn’t care to hear either, but even she, over all the other nonsense spewed tonight, had heard Naz talk about his drink preference.

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“And anyway, why did you bring wine? Is that all there is?” He grimaced. “It’s not even a good one. Blackberry, blegh. Cherry would have been the better choice, you know.”

How Rowan was supposed to know any of those details, even Zara wasn’t sure. They hardly knew the cheeky bastard at all. Blackberry was actually a flavor Zara had expressed liking back when she tried it with Rowan and his friends at Ruvini’s.

“I hate cherry,” Rowan muttered, in a way that expressed his hatred for anything Naz liked.

“You have poor taste.”

“Stop arguing,” their father butted in. “Nazeer, I’ll have Rauna pick up something you like tomorrow.”

Rauna nodded and proceeded pouring on her master’s instruction. She quickly took her leave once she was done, taking the leftover pudding plate with her.

“Well, no matter,” Naz said brightly. “Rowan, your idiocy has actually proven quite convenient.” He waved Zara over. “Come, Zara. Sit with us, so your glass doesn’t go to waste. Besides, I’d like to speak with you too.”

Zara hesitated.

“Come!”

At Naz’s insistence, Zara slowly stepped out of her corner.

“Are you sure about this?” Zahir asked him.

“It’ll be fine,” Naz replied as she tentatively sat in the open seat next to Naz on the sofa. “I’m not a kid anymore; I think I can handle a conversation with my sister now.”

Across from them, Rowan sat in the chair next to Zahir and offered Zara a glass first.

“Here,” he mumbled. He still refused to look at her directly.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, taking the offer and sipping right away. It was sweet, smooth, and tasty. She couldn’t help but wonder if Rowan had purposely chosen this wine for her, but quickly dismissed the ridiculous notion. He’d been cold to her for weeks. There was no reason for him to do such a nice thing so suddenly. It was probably a coincidence, and besides, he said he liked this flavor as well. He’d clearly chosen it for himself.

“You’re so kind, Rowan,” Naz teased. “I remember back in the old days you wouldn’t shut up about how strange she was, just to make her angry. You loved making her angry.”

“Now he’s shut her out,” Zahir told Naz, as if Zara and Rowan weren’t in the room with them.

“Is that so?”

“Mm. I thought it a quite sudden change of heart, considering how he’d raced off against my word to take her out of that shed.”

“Even for you, Baba, that was harsh.”

“It was necessary.”

It seemed many matters concerning Zara had already been discussed between them beforehand. Zara took another calm sip, and pretended she wasn’t uncomfortable.

“Maybe…” He suddenly wrapped his fingers around Zara’s wrist, making her flinch violently. The liquid in her glass almost swished right out. “Did that incident cause this? You’re really so thin. But it may be that you peck at your food like a bird.”

“She’s always been thin,” Zahir answered for her.

“Huh,” Naz uttered. He thought about it for a moment before dropping her wrist. “I remember differently…though we were never close or anything. I was hardly ever around you.” This time, he spoke to Zara directly. “Isn’t that right?”

Zara found herself staring at his face, a face she hadn’t looked closely upon in years. He’d always had a strong appearance, but the one she remembered vaguely was of a young boy desperately trying to climb the ranks of manhood as soon as possible. She remembered bits of his lighter voice and laughter, not as deep as it was now, talking animatedly about things she didn’t know about: complicated subjects of various arts, religion, history, and politics. A young socialite, constantly out and about, spending hours and days with people no one but he was allowed to meet. But what she remembered most of this handsome face that gazed at her now with kind intrigue, was pure contempt.

“We shouldn’t be harboring that thing in this house! Why do you insist on hiding her, Ma? Why do you insist on protecting a freak that’ll kill us all?”

He had to have been sixteen…or maybe seventeen years old when he had expressed this to their mother, close to the main entrance of their house, while she peered at them from behind the washroom door. She hadn’t seen him for some months at that time—he’d been studying abroad—and she’d thought, Maybe I should greet him. Maybe he’ll pay me some attention, like he used to with Rowan.

She was a girl, so it made sense he wouldn’t feel as connected to her as he would a brother. He’d kept his distance from her even before she’d become the family’s curse to bear. But she could only stare at his sharp, bitter profile while he spoke in a hushed, urgent voice:

“I knew there was something wrong from the start. I’ve always had this intuition in me, you know, some sense. She’s so odd, Ma. I hate the way she’s quiet, the way she stares with that blank stupid face, like she’s in a fantasy land all the time. Her little obsessions with the world’s abnormalities is…disturbing to say the least. It proves everything, doesn’t it? I only came home because of your letter. I needed to tell you in person and I’ll tell Baba again: get rid of her before things get worse. Get rid of her, because I’ve seen it…in the city…what happens to families who are merely suspected of hiding these types of monsters in their homes….”

“You’re pretty.”

Zara blinked at Naz’s soft confession. Rowan choked on his drink.

“Do you need water?” Zahir asked, patting his back.

Rowan winced, coughing and clearing his throat. “No.”

Naz paid no mind to the ruckus across them. His dark eyes remained on hers—the one part of their appearance that was similar to each other. He smiled casually and shrugged.

“Well…pretty enough for a thin thing like you I guess,” he said, breaking his gaze away to take a long sip of the wine he claimed to hate. He set his glass back on the table.

Stunned, Zara replied with a lame, “Thanks.”

“Don’t you think so, Rowan?”

“You’re just pulling our legs,” Rowan grumbled.

“Am I? Or are you jealous? Maybe she can teach you a thing or two about proper facial care. I hear she bathes less than you do, yet her face doesn’t bear a spot.” Naz laughed at Zara’s shocked, red expression. “By the way, thanks for cleaning yourself up for me today. Ma told me how much she hated the stench of you.”

I didn’t clean up for YOU. I didn’t even want to SEE you.

Rowan chugged down the rest of his glass and clanked it down on the table. “Can I leave now?” he asked Zahir. “I think I’ve had enough.”

Just as Zahir was about to relent, Naz spoke up again. “But I want you to stay.”

“Why?”

“You make me feel good about myself. You always have.” He smirked.

“What a kind thing to say,” Zahir said, smiling at Naz, though he looked at Rowan with distaste. “Why are you like this?”

Rowan got out of the chair, glowering.

“Stay,” Zara spoke up, inciting the others’ attentions. “Please.” She didn’t know why she wanted Rowan to stay when he wasn’t even on her side or anything. But his presence brought her some level of comfort in that she wasn’t alone. She didn’t want to be stuck with her father and Naz by herself. Naz wasn’t going to let her off anytime soon, seeing as how he had discreetly curled his fingers around the loose fabric of her gown.

Rowan stared at her, incredulously.

“See?” Naz said. “You even got Zara talking. She wants you to stay, too. Incredible. Never thought I’d hear it. Pour us some more drink, would you?”

After some moment of confusion, Rowan complied and begrudgingly sat back down, eyeing Zara curiously. Zara, at least, was able to breathe evenly again…or as evenly as she could with Naz leering at her.

They heard Leyli’s voice from down the hall, calling for Zahir. Zahir apologized to Naz and excused himself to see what his wife needed from him, leaving the siblings alone together. Zara couldn’t remember the last time it had ever been just the three of them.

Rowan sighed, topping off his glass. He seemed less frustrated now and more worried as Naz leaned in closer to Zara.

“Hey, tell me,” Naz said, “I want to hear it directly from you. What was it like?”

Zara swallowed. “What was what like?”

“The boy mage. I never got a chance to see it before it died.”

Zara’s entire body tensed at his malicious use of the pronoun.

Naz chuckled. “It must have been terrible for you. You must have tried so hard to save him, only for him—and practically everyone else—to die anyway.”

“It wasn’t my fault,” Zara whispered hollowly. It was something she told herself over and over, but it was clear how absurd it sounded when spoken aloud.

“No?” Naz nodded once, leaning back. “Of course, it couldn’t be. Everybody else is just crazy.” He turned to Rowan for affirmation. “Right? You imagined it all, didn’t you? Your fear, your injuries. Your near-death experience is a joke, according to her.” He laughed. “Like one, big drug-induced nightmare.”

Zara lowered her eyes, willing herself not to care. He could think whatever he wanted. After all, part of it had been an illusion. But her chest still shook, because in the end, she was still to blame. She busied herself studying magic these days so as to not think about the ceremony—about her useless attempt to save a boy fit for death—but it was fruitless when the facts were smacked across her face again.

She didn’t want to talk about this, and she suddenly thought—why should she? What, exactly, was stopping her from leaving now? Her father wasn’t around. She’d brace herself for the consequences of her rude behavior later. And some day, as her skills progressed, she wouldn’t have to put up with anything like this, ever again. That was Revan’s promise to her.

“But I have to admit, from the things I’ve heard…you’re quite impressive.”

Zara snapped her eyes back on Naz, as did Rowan.

“What are you saying?” Rowan hissed, his low voice trembling.

“She is,” Naz insisted. “I’ve never actually seen magic at work, so I don’t know what it’s like. To have someone like you in my family with abilities like that is…well, it’s mostly concerning. And scary. Repulsive, even. But also…exciting.” The gleam in his eyes wasn’t anything Zara was pleased about. Something in her gut was telling her he wasn’t being genuine.

“Naz,” she spoke. “This isn’t like you at all.”

“What do you even know about me?”

Zara couldn’t respond. She only knew that he had never approved of her existing, for the most part.

“You don’t think I could have changed my mind about you? Just a little? I mean…I’m curious. Magic is…it’s practically like a myth. A treasure to many people. It has value. You, despite being what you are, have value.”

Zara didn’t understand what he was getting at.

He leaned toward her again. “So…how do you do it?”

“What?”

“Show me your magic,” he whispered. “I want to see.”

“No,” Rowan said sharply.

“Was I asking you?” Naz said, regarding him like a bug. “Actually, it was a mistake having you here. Can you please go away now?”

“And let Zara tear this house apart for your amusement? No way!”

Fool. “Do you really think I would do something like that?” she snapped.

“Well I didn’t think you’d do anything like what you did in the mountain,” he snarled. “So excuse me for being a little cautious of you.”

It was like Naz had disappeared; the issue was now between her and Rowan.

“So is that why you’ve been ignoring me? Are you that afraid of me?”

Rowan didn’t answer, but he didn’t look away from her either. His brows twitched.

“I wouldn’t hurt you,” Zara told him.

But it did nothing to reassure him. He just barked out a laugh. “I could have fallen off the cliff too, and you wouldn’t have even noticed. What you did…it was like you weren’t thinking about anyone but yourself. So fuck you.”

“No fuck you!” Zara’s voice rose, her bottled temper—and silence—unable to contain itself any longer. “You’ve been acting like a piece of shit way before that fucking chaos on the mountain. I don’t know why, though. Can you tell me why?”

“Yeah! It’s because of—” Rowan stopped. His mouth hung open mid-sentence, and his brows furrowed deeper. “It’s because….” He trailed off, unable to come up with an answer.

Zara shook her head. “You got my hopes up. I thought you would start treating me like family. But you’re worse than everyone here.” She stood with her wine in hand. She’d finish drinking elsewhere, in peace.

“Where are you going?” Naz said, and suddenly Zara remembered that he was still here, clutching at the skirt of her gown like a little boy.

She wanted to laugh. Of course. She was so used to him not being here. He was only another waste of a brother she wanted nothing to do with.

Excitement beamed in Naz’s face; he’d been thoroughly entertained by her squabble with Rowan.

“Come now, we’re still family,” Naz assured her with a smile Zara wanted to punch in.

“No,” Zara said firmly. “You never thought of me as family. So shut up.”

He let go of the gown and grabbed her wrist instead before she could forcefully move away.

“I do think of you as family. Let me prove it to you, Zara,” Naz said quickly. “I can take you away from here.”

“What?” Zara and Rowan both shouted this in unison. Rowan seemed to have broken out of whatever weird daze he’d been in before.

“Take her…where?” he asked.

“I have a house,” Naz explained, “in the city. It’s spacious.”

“What in the holy fucking Mother are you saying?!” Zara cried, trying to wring herself away. Wine trickled out of the glass, staining the floor as she struggled.

Why was he saying this? Why would he want to take her away to live with him, when he’d never wanted anything to do with her or her freakish nature? There must be something wrong with his head. He was an architect. Maybe a brick fell on him at one of his construction sites or something.

“Why not? I think you put our family in danger if you stay. You can start fresh in the city, with me.”

“You’re not making sense.” His behavior now did not align with what she had seen in the dining room. But then again, she had no idea what went through his mind. Naz was right. She didn’t know him, or what he desired now. Once their father had left this room, his attitude about her had changed.

“I don’t trust you,” was all Zara could say with a shaky voice. “I would never live with you and that pretentious glamour-bat you call a wife.”

The smile vanished. Naz jumped out of his seat.

“What did you just say?” he yelled. His face was now of pure fury. The fingers wrapped around her wrist hurt. He smacked her with his other hand. “You freak show!” Another slap. “You hideous witch!”

Zara shrieked. She hit him with her glass, splattering a red mess all over his face, the front of his shirt, and the beige sofa. Naz wrenched the glass from her and threw it aside. He tugged at her hair until it came undone. Rowan lunged forward.

“Stop, please! Naz!” he shouted, trying to pull him off Zara.

“What’s happening in there?” they heard Leyli’s voice from down the hall.

None of them cared to acknowledge it. Rowan was finally able to wrest Naz away.

Naz shoved Rowan off him. “You’ll die,” he panted at her, teeth gritting viciously. “You’ll die worse than that scum boy. I’ll make sure of it.”

All thought fled as Zara, in a rage, picked up an empty glass from the table and brought it in front of Naz.

“You want to see magic?” she rasped. The blood in her fingertips heated rapidly until steam lifted from the glass.

Naz’s eyes grew wide. “Huh?”

“Take a look.”

With a pinch, she shattered the fire-hot glass in his face.