Mirage (Mirage #1)(68)

The confirmation ceremony was tomorrow—sped up, I suspected, because the king wanted to distract from the progress the rebels had made in the Eastern Reach, where the Vath’s munitions depots were being raided and destroyed. Maram had come to my chambers with three chests full of gowns ostensibly to help her choose one for the ceremony. “Right about what?” I asked.

“About the Banu Salih?”

“It will shock you when I say no, Your Highness, you were wrong.”

She laughed. “Do tell.”

“Some of them are frightened of you—the ones your age. But the elders … they all mourn you.”

“I had not realized I was dead,” she said, raising an eyebrow.

“You—” I began, and then stopped. Too often I forgot that there were lines I could not cross. Too often I fell into the trap of imagining Maram and I as equals.

“I love it when you realize you are about to be incredibly presumptuous,” she drawled. “Few people have such a skill. Please, go on.”

“You look like your mother. I think they’re sad that you don’t value them. Family is important, especially to a dying tribe like theirs.”

She wasn’t looking at me. “They might have thought of that before trying to usurp me when I was a child.” Despite her harsh tone, her fingers were now white knuckled around the charm.

I wanted to tell her no one held her responsible for the occupation, or the Purge, or any of her father’s evils. No one saw Mathis when they looked at her—until she acted like him. But there was no way to do it, no way to be sure. And likely, above all, she would not take the word of a village girl from an isolated moon. Even one that was her double.

Maram was watching me with interest and some confusion.

“You make me think I might have liked a twin sister,” she said as she pulled her hair into a tie. “A real sister; a friend instead of a competitor.”

I felt myself smile a little at the thought. “You would have done better with an elder sister, I think.”

She raised an eyebrow. “What makes you say so?”

“Elder siblings protect their younger siblings. Or the good ones do, at least.”

I expected Maram to scoff, but she just stared at our reflection, wondering.

“Maybe,” she said at last.

The pendant came out, clasped against her palm. “Sometimes … sometimes I think about my mother. I know people think—well, I don’t know what they think. But I loved her, and her dying … I never forgave her for it. There are days where I think—” She closed her eyes. “There are days where I think she won’t forgive me for what I’ve done. For what I’ve watched other people do.”

She opened her eyes again, and shook her head as if coming out of a dream.

“I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”

I gave her a weak smile. “Nor do I.”

She stared at me as though there were a secret she might divine just by looking. “Tell me what to do,” she whispered.

My jaw went slack. “What?”

“Tell me,” she said, her eyes wide, “how do I … how can I…? How do I rule over people who hate me? How—how can I be the queen my father wants when I know it turns my mother in her grave when I consider it?”

“We are not responsible for what cruel masters enact in our name.”

“I’m a little responsible.”

“But what can you do about it now?”

She looked away from me, her jaw tense with grief and rage. I hesitated before taking her hand in mine. “You must think of the days and years to come as a shatranj board. If you wish to help—it will not happen any other way.”

She nodded. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“Sorry?”

“For … for the beginning. Nothing I do will change what I did. But—”

“Sisters fight, sometimes.”

She coughed out a laugh. “Sisters do not have one another mauled half to death by hunting birds.”

“You have not read enough Kushaila folktales if you believe that.”

A weak but real smile emerged on her face.

“Do you … really see me that way? As your sister?”

She wasn’t looking at me, and instead focused on her hand clenching and unclenching around her mother’s pendant.

“I am the youngest of my siblings,” I said at last. “My elder brothers always watched over me. And now—now I will try to watch over you.”

Her eyes widened just a little. She leaned in and pressed her lips against my cheeks, furtive and quick, before she pulled her hood over her hair and secured the veil over her face.

I watched her go, wondering, all too aware the next time I saw her she would be that much closer to being queen.

*

I spent the rest of the evening deep in thought, curled up by my window. I’d been right about Maram, about what she wanted and was afraid of. She wanted to be a good queen, but the Vath had done their work, and she was too frightened to take the right steps. She only needed help.

The communicator pressed against my charm gave one sharp beep, blisteringly loud in the quiet of my room. I startled, confused for a moment before realizing the noise came from my charm. My fingers shook as I peeled the communicator gel and put it against the spot behind my ear. We had a rule—only I ever reached out, never the other way around. If I beeped randomly I would be quickly found out.