White silk folds like snow banks against the windows that reach to the ceiling. I stumble on my own feet when I realize that every single curtain of the celestial observatory has been torn down. The Moon fills the vast crescent room with pure, silvery light. My father is blessing us with his presence. He’s watching and seeing, listening and hearing.
“My daughters,” Mama greets us. She glitters and shines at the very center of the room, on the circular stage under the round glass dome. In her eyes live the ocean and skies, for she’s the empire. Celestia waits next to her, as white as our mother, but her right cheek is burning red.
“Come here,” Mama summons me and my sisters.
Somehow I know, just know this moment is immeasurably valuable, something to cherish rather than to rush over. My sisters realize this, too. We shuffle slowly and solemnly into an arc before her. The guards remain back even then, at the top of the staircase. That is the only shadowy place left, the only way in and out of the room that has windows for walls.
“Mama.” Elise curtsies deep and remains with her sequined skirts spread wide, head bent down. Her red-gold hair glows under our father’s gaze. He loves us dearly.
Mama glides to her and kisses her forehead. She loves us too. “My beautiful Elise.”
Sibilia curtsies next, not as effortlessly as Elise, but the Moon winds around her nevertheless. She blushes when she receives her kiss and praise. Then it’s Merile’s turn.
We rarely receive this much attention from Mama, but when she approaches me, I tremble. This isn’t a dream. There’s no waking up. The Moon’s light blooms around me. The shadows still hide in my hem. He will do what is in his power. I’ll do what’s in mine.
“My little Alina,” Mama whispers as she seals her lips against my temple.
I feel the warmth of her breath, the waver in her voice. And I also feel… the swan detaching from my hem. I hold my breath as it folds against Mama’s white dress. She doesn’t notice a thing, even though she’s the empress and thus she should see into the world beyond this one.
I rise from the curtsy, feeling better now that I know the swan’s shadows will look after Mama. A thought comes to me, and it comforts me. Maybe it was the Moon who sent the animals to me, to us. If that is so, whom will the ape look after, or will it stay with me?
“My daughters,” Mama addresses us again, having climbed up to the circular stage, to Celestia. I realize it then. There was no kiss for my oldest sister. Why? “I have grave news for you. The unrests that have plagued my empire have spread here, to the streets and plazas of the Summer City.”
“Are we in danger?” Merile squeals, swooping Rafa up. She tries desperately to also pick up Mufu, but her arms are nowhere near long enough. Mufu, having sensed her mistress’s distress, dives to hide under the heavy hem of her cloak.
“Of course we aren’t,” Elise replies, craning over her shoulder at the soldiers lingering at the top of the stairs. It’s almost as if she’s expecting Captain Janlav to acknowledge her words, for there is no way for him or any of the other guards to not have heard our conversation. And yet, he stares right past her, as if he’d never seen her in his life.
“How can you be so sure?” Sibilia cries out. She brushes her nightgown’s hem. Then slaps Elise’s arm with the hand mirror. “To be lured from my bed in the middle of the night! To be ushered through the palace in my nightgown! The shame alone will kill me for sure!”
The faintest of smiles plays on Mama’s lips. Elise opens her mouth as if to protest, but clenches it shut at the last possible moment.
“My daughters, I need you to listen to me very, very carefully. It is no longer safe in the Summer City. The guards here will take you via tunnels to the train station. There you will board an imperial train that will take you to a safe place. You shall wait until the unrests have been… dealt with. Do you understand this?”
I cling to my braveness, though coldness spreads through my body. Soon my fingers and toes and arms and legs all shake. I fold my arms across my chest. I can’t stop the tears.
“Oh, Alina!” Celestia covers her parted lips with her hand. Then she rushes down the stage to me, graceful akin to a swan diving. Her cheek, however she hurt it, glows red, and it must pain her to speak. And yet she says to me, “Here, please take my shawl.”
She’s too kind. I’m only too afraid. I tremble horribly as she wraps her shawl around my shoulders. She hugs me before heading back. But when she turns around, I notice three things that are so very wrong.
Two buttons midway up her back are unfastened.
She returns to Mama rather than taking her customary place to the right of Elise.
But most worryingly, her shadow is faint, much fainter than those of my other sisters, or even Mama’s.
“Celestia.” Mama addresses my sister only when she’s again next to her. There’s a tightness in her voice. Tiredness too. Maybe even a trace of disappointment. But that must be just my imagination, for Celestia has always been Mama’s favorite.
Celestia bends her head down as if she’d done something bad. “Yes, Mama.”
“I entrust your sisters into your care,” Mama says. There’s no blame in her voice. How could there be? What could Celestia ever do to deserve such? But what Mama says next resembles a plea terribly, terribly much. “Guard them from any possible harm, regardless of the cost.”
Celestia lifts her head up high, and addresses us with confidence that warms me more than her shawl. “I will. This I solemnly swear under the Moon, who shines as my witness.”
Mama closes her eyes and exhales deeply. Then a rattle of boots comes from behind us, from the stairs. Mama’s eyes fling open. Her forehead creases with a frown, as does Celestia’s. My sisters and I spin around just in time to see the guards parting to let a man pass.
And not just any man, but the most terrible and dangerous one of them all.
“Celestia.” Gagargi Prataslav halts on the highest step, at the edge of the shadows, as if he belongs with them. He takes in the pulled-down curtains, us basking in the Moon’s light. He doesn’t seem that interested in Mama or Elise, Sibilia or Merile. But there is still something disturbingly hungry in the way he studies Celestia… and me. “Crescent Empress.”
“Gagargi Prataslav,” Celestia replies, boldly meeting his gaze. It’s as if she and he had been opponents in a game, and against all odds my sister had emerged victorious. This is how the scene seems to me. “The winter equinox is here.”
The gagargi laughs a throaty chuckle as if Celestia had told a joke. Her pose tenses, and she cranes her neck, her chin up. Maybe I don’t know what they’re really talking about. Sometimes adults talk of two or more things at once. But this much is clear to me: even if Celestia and Gagargi Prataslav have been playing together, they aren’t friends anymore. How this came to pass, I don’t know, and I’m not sure I want to find out.
“That it is.” Gagargi Prataslav’s words form a grim lullaby that summons me to dark currents. I can see them winding around everyone present. It’s the same spell he’s cast so many times before. The soldiers stiffen as if turning into stone. Elise, Sibilia, and Merile fall still, too. Only Mama, Celestia, and I remain unaffected.
But I pretend stillness. For I know he meant the spell to touch me as well.
Celestia—I can see she must force herself to do so—steps down from the stage and strolls to the gagargi. Her white hem sways in rhythm with her steps, and she shines radiantly under the light of our blessed father. This must give her the strength she so dearly needs, for when she speaks, her voice bears no hint of fear or anger. “Thank you for coming, though it is past midnight.”