Because You Love to Hate Me(3)

But today a different scene greeted Rhone.

Waves lapped at a holographic shore in the distance. The sun shone high in a clear blue sky. The sand at his feet and along the chamber perimeter was crystalline, glittering all around him like infinitesimal gems. Rhone walked through the room. Birds that had been extinct for millennia—cawing, long-beaked beggars with creamy feathers—drifted above him, their images so clear and crisp Rhone resisted the urge to reach out and offer them a holographic morsel of food.

Even the air smelled briny and sharp and otherworldly.

“This was our favorite,” a soft voice emanated from behind him.

Rhone shook his head without turning around. “Yours. Not mine.”

“Did you not like it?” Careful footsteps padded closer.

“I preferred the one with the volcano.”

Cutting, feminine laughter echoed clear across to the other side of the shore. “Liar.”

At that, Rhone glanced over one shoulder, his forehead creasing. “How did you know I was coming here, Altais?”

His sister strolled fully into view, her steps light, her gait precise.

Her smile had upturned all her features. She wore a playful expression. One that Rhone could not mirror, no matter how hard he tried, though so much of their appearances were so similar. Altais shared his dark hair and pale skin. His strong eyebrows and bladed cheekbones.

But while these features appeared severe on Rhone, they managed to look striking on Altais.

With nothing constructive to say, Rhone decided to tease. “You’re wearing a dress?” He peaked a brow. “How ridiculous.”

“Why is that?” She crossed her arms, the jeweled gauntlet on her left hand sparkling in the light of the holographic sun.

“You look like a fool.”

Altais huffed, a gauntleted finger tapping against an elbow. “It doesn’t matter if I’m wearing a dress, a suit of armor, or nothing at all. I can still beat anyone who dares to challenge me.”

“Dresses are for silly, foolish girls.” Rhone grinned mockingly. “I defy you to contradict me.”

“Better a silly, foolish girl than a sullen boy like you, skulking in the darkness.” She sniffed. “Besides, I like the colors.” With a flourish of her skirts, she spun in place. Her dress flashed through a series of rainbows. Rhone recognized the material. It was among the most costly to procure, made of a special cynesilk woven from the strands of many tiny mirrors. Mirrors too small to see with the naked eye. Far too many mirrors for any one person to count.

When Altais was done spinning, she glided nearer to the aquamarine waves. The colors of the ocean rippled across her flowing skirts, deepening until they became a beautiful complementing color, tinged by the rose of a setting sun.

She looked like a girl, for once, instead of the next in line to rule Oranith.

A sudden realization took hold of Rhone. “Are you meant to catch a man at Mother’s dinner party with that ridiculous dress?”

“Excuse me?”

“Because you should know it won’t work.” Despite his best efforts, Rhone could not conceal the petulance in his voice.

Altais’s pale brown eyes softened. “Why are you being so hateful tonight, Rho?”

A small pang of remorse flared near his heart. Rhone hated the note of pity in her words. “You’ve never wanted to marry before. And I can only imagine a dress that hideous to have an equally insidious purpose.”

His sister’s shoulders sagged for an instant. Then Altais stood taller. “I’m only sixteen. No one is going to force me to marry. Mother wouldn’t allow it.”

“You say that . . .” Rhone had found a footing. Something to cow his usually confident sister. And he refused to relinquish his hold a moment too soon. “But the matriarchy passes to you—the eldest of the Imuriv daughters. Eventually, you will have to marry to continue the lineage.”

“I’m not the eldest Imuriv,” Altais grumbled back with a nod to him. “But I am the only Imuriv daughter.”

“A fact for which I’ve been constantly reminded my entire life. And . . . a burden I do not want for myself.” He tried to sound sympathetic, but the chord he struck did not ring true, even to his own ears.

“Be glad it isn’t you, Rhone Valtea Imuriv. Or else you might be the one forced to wear a silly dress.”

A ghost of a smile drifted across his lips. “That would indeed be a fate worse than death.”

“Or maybe you harbor a secret love of fashion.” She grinned back. “Then perhaps you can pray some tragedy befalls me in the near future.” Altais stepped closer. “Should that happen, I swear on the fourth star that I will leave you this dress.”

Rhone snorted, almost amused. In moments like these, he recalled how close they’d once been. How easily they’d championed each other as children. How much they’d shared. So many memories. “That alone would be reason enough to wish your death.”

“Careful, Rho,” she whispered, biting back a laugh. “Should anyone overhear you, they might be apt to accuse you of treason.” The last word echoed into the holographic blue sky. As the sound ricocheted from the rounded ceiling, a murder of beggar birds scattered in its wake.

Altais’s cheeks colored. Her gaze drifted to one side.

Though his sister had pronounced the statement in an unmistakably lighthearted tone, her words nevertheless conjured an entirely different picture.