“There,” Ylessia said flatly, stepping away from me. “As lovely as you’ll ever be, if we can call it that.”
I reached up to touch the deceptively simple tangle of my hair; my hand sparkled violet and green where it caught the light, from the shimmering minerals in the lotion she’d rubbed on me. It smelled too sweet for something just meant to moisturize; curious, I brought the back of my hand to my mouth and gave it a little lick. It tasted like the candied violets Mama used to make as a garnish for her spring sunset sorbets.
“You sugared me?” I demanded. Somehow this was infinitely more terrifying than anything had been so far, this proof on my tongue that I wasn’t myself any longer, but an offering. And that was the fount of all the dissonance, I abruptly understood. They may have decked me out like something that could sting or prick, but that was purely for show. I wasn’t meant as a thorned rose but as a lychee fruit, all tender sweetness once the spikes peeled back.
And I had not just volunteered, but fought so hard for this.
It would be better, I reminded myself. It would be worth it. Whatever happened, it would be to me and not to my sister.
“Not to worry, Lisarah,” Ylessia replied tartly. “Nothing can truly sweeten all those years of brine beneath. I assure you it will not sink in too deep.”
I held her eyes in the mirror until she dropped her gaze. “Is there any particular reason,” I began, girding my voice with steel, “that you’ve now decided to be such a spectacular bitch? It’s not really the quality one hopes for in a great-great-great however-many-times grandmother. Especially not when getting ready to step willingly off a cliff.”
Her face softened a measure, and she opened her mouth as if to say something before closing it with a neat click of her teeth. “It isn’t your fault,” she finally said, low. “You’re right, you don’t deserve this from me. Especially not now.”
“So, what is it, enlighten me. It might be my last request.”
She shook her head once, and turned away. “It’ll be another few hours yet,” she said quietly. “Sorai must ready herself for the ritual, as well, along with the rest of us. Enjoy what you can until then. Enjoy all of it.”
I sank onto the ottoman as she left, feeling more desperately alone and scared than I had ever been.
I COULDN’T THINK what else to do, so I made myself eat as dusk gathered outside, dousing the mountain peaks that had burned bloody with the force of a high-altitude sunset. I wasn’t really hungry, even with six days of barely considering food since all of this had begun, but if I did it—if I won—who knew if eating was something I’d ever get to do again.
And if I lost, I couldn’t see how I would want to ever eat. Or live. Even though the choice wouldn’t be mine by then.
They’d left me a silver catering cart loaded with delicacies, like some sort of decadent prisoner’s last meal. There were fat strawberries, hollowed out and filled with white chocolate cream; I ate those first, swallowing them nearly whole. Then tiny glazed doughnuts spread with foie gras and sweet, gritty fig; beef tartare topped with a trembling orange yolk and spicy buttered toast points; miniature brownies with truffle shells tucked inside that burst and bled hazelnut cream when prodded with a fork.
After what felt like a lifetime of refusing Mama’s food to make the most pointless point, once I got going I couldn’t get enough. I washed all of it down with whole glasses of cold water, flavored sweet and tart with an elderflower cordial.
I might have eaten myself to bursting if one of the wrought-iron inlays in the wall hadn’t shuddered, then swung open like a seamless panel to let my sister in, and Naisha right behind her.
Lina and I gaped at each other for a silent moment. Her hair was pinned up in elaborate curls, beneath a slim, gleaming circlet like a halo. She wore a gown cut low over her creamy spill of cleavage, a metallic black bodice above a full skirt like chain mail—if every link were a perfect feather worked intricately from platinum. Bracelets shaped like feathers circled each wrist, too, and though her eyes were lined as mine, it was precise, the black swooping into curlicues toward her temples. Her cheeks were dramatically flushed, and her lips gilded.
“Are you meant to be channeling a bird?” I said, just as she asked, “What even is that, like sexier Poison Ivy?”
We burst into tears at exactly the same time, and she flung herself into my arms. Above her shoulder, I saw Naisha wipe at her narrow, finely chiseled face, her eyes swimming with tears.
I could think about what that meant in a moment.
But first I held Malina tight, cheek pressed against hers, both of us bubbling with sobs and laughter. “I’m supposed to be a dark angel, I think?” she said. “You know, because I, uh, sing like one? It would be a little hilarious if only I could breathe.”
“Right, of course, and I’m a very dangerous wildflower. But an edible one, that’s the important part.” I sighed deeply into her hair, breathing in its warm scent. Everything in me loosened, as if a terrible coil tightened around the barrel of my insides had been cut free. “I’m so glad you’re here with me, Lina. But what are you doing here? I didn’t think you’d—I didn’t think we’d even see each other, before.”
I jerked my chin at Naisha, who looked like Eve before the apple: a floor-length cream sheath clinging to her fine-boned frame, her platinum hair loose and festooned with flowers and glistening strips of snakeskin along with the scent-ribbons. “And why are you here? Were you Lina’s fluffer? I really drew the short straw with Ylessia, I will say that much.”
Lina drew back away from me, her face shuttering as she shook her head. “No, it was Xenia who readied me.” She nearly spat out the word; clearly she had enjoyed it about as much as I did. “Naisha came to see me after that, Riss. Something’s happening here—it’s not what we think. It’s not what they told us. They’re lying, they all are. And especially her.”
The ribbons in my hair nearly writhed in protest at the maligning of Sorai. “What do you mean? Why would she lie? And wouldn’t you have heard it before now, if something was that wrong?”
“I have been hearing something off, ever since we got here, but it’s all so . . . everything’s so muddied, there’s so many of them, it’s hard to hear properly. I still don’t understand what’s happening, exactly, but Naisha has something to show us. While they’re all still busy.”
I crossed my arms over my chest, hugging myself. Everything in me thrashed against doubting Sorai. Even listening to Malina was beginning to become physically painful, like a fit of ague.