The Sisters of the Crescent Empress Read online

  I’ve never been as out of breath nor has my heart struggled to keep up as much as when I stumbled down the two stairways, then past the wide-open door of the library. I halted to catch my bearings when we reached the back door that stood ajar. Elise boldly pushed the door fully open. I followed her to the porch with Alina.

  The night wrapped around us like a suffocating, wet blanket, but the sky was alight with our father’s half-revealed face.

  “Father, bless your daughters,” Elise whispered, and then she skimmed down the porch’s steps, toward the barked orders muffled by distance. Our father lighting our way, Alina and I hurried after her, across the damp lawn, down the stone steps, to the orchard where the black shapes of the trees and bushes bowed under the soft spring rain.

  Oh, Scribs, I shall never forget the scene we witnessed that night.

  The Moon, though only growing, shone with his full might as Merile stood before the locked iron gate, Captain Ansalov and his mongrel soldiers circling her, Captain Janlav and his men doing likewise. She held her arms out to her sides, with her head tilted back, a glittering cap of raindrops on her black curls, and it was as if she were completely unafraid of the weapons aimed at her.

  Scribs, if you reveal what I’m about to write next to anyone, anyone at all, even under the greatest distress, I’ll scorch your pages and shred you with the dullest knife. Understand this? Good.

  As Merile shifted to defiantly stare at Captain Ansalov, she looked so very brave and beautiful that I did envy her! Yes, Scribs! I envied my otherwise so despicable sister, because out of all of us she’d acted, or at least tried to act, whereas the rest of us have remained docile and tame. For a good reason, too. But still!

  Onward. I must go onward, though this is where things get darker.

  “Stay back,” Captain Janlav shouted at Elise, Alina, and me, or that’s what I thought then. He and the guards must have arrived to the scene mere moments before us, for though they had their rifles drawn, their aim was still amiss. Within the next few heartbeats, they took places right behind Captain Ansalov’s men with a grimness that revealed that they’d been to battle before many times in their lives.

  “Stay back,” he repeated, though Elise, Alina, and I had obeyed him the first time around. But then I saw Celestia stepping forth from the shadows of the gnarly apple tree by the gate. She strode before Merile, to protect our foolish little sister with her own body. In the searing white light of the Moon, she looked akin to a swan poised to strike.

  The world held its breath, or that’s how it felt. I could hear everything, the sounds faint and loud. The squeak of triggers under sweaty fingers. The howl of Captain Ansalov’s hounds, barred in the stables. I smelled and tasted the night, too. Hot and humid with traces of iron and salt. Wet grass and ground and branches snapped under hasty heels.

  “You shall not take my sister’s life,” Celestia announced, and her gaze promised a storm to come for anyone who dared to argue against her. I could tell the mongrel soldiers were afraid of her, for some of them lowered their aim.

  “Compeers, don’t listen to her,” Captain Ansalov replied, and of all things, he sounded amused. “Though she may be the oldest Daughter of the Moon, she has forsaken her people. She cares not for you, only those she calls her own.”

  What an insult, and yet my sister didn’t deny his words. I glanced quickly at Captain Janlav. He motioned his soldiers to keep their aim, his own rifle pointed at Captain Ansalov’s chest, right between the two rows of brass buttons. “Will someone explain what’s going on here?”

  It was at that moment that I realized that if Alina hadn’t woken up Elise, if Elise hadn’t woken up Celestia, if Celestia had arrived at the scene just a moment later, Captain Ansalov would have had Merile shot already. And . . . it wasn’t only my little sister in danger, but all of us!

  I felt faint, and time seemed to slow. It was as if every image, smell, sound, and detail were being permanently, forever, imprinted in my mind whether I wanted them or not. And I wanted the moment to rather last than abruptly end in bullets. Scribs, this might sound silly, but I’ve found the simple act of living sweet and to my liking, which is cruel, because now I know for sure that my sisters and I may not have that many days left to live.

  “Certainly,” Captain Ansalov said, as if doing so pleased him immensely. Out of all the men in the orchard, he was the only one without a weapon. “We are under the great gagargi’s personal order to shoot any who may attempt to leave the premises they have been ordered to be contained in.”

  Encouraged by the words, the mongrel soldiers pointed their rifles again at our sisters, fidgeted with the triggers. But Celestia remained unfazed. Though her negligee has frayed thin, though the moist air pressed it so against her frame that she could as well have been undressed altogether, it seemed to me as if she were wearing armor. And at that moment I realized that she would give her life away gladly to shield my sister, and I felt great regret, too, because for weeks now I’ve loathed her for the very same reason.

  “Who is the one who holds the highest power, the Moon who watches us from the sky or the man who wields a piece of paper that anyone may have written?” Celestia asked, and in her voice sang the swans who don’t tire even when they cross the skies from north to south.

  As Elise, Alina, and I were standing higher, on the root of the stone steps, behind the soldiers and the two captains, I could see only a glimpse of Captain Janlav’s familiar profile, the square jaw covered by beard, the posture of a man who cared not if it was night or day, only about fulfilling his duty. But I had no trouble hearing his voice.

  Captain Janlav said, “We all serve the Moon. There is no doubt about it. He wants what is best for our people. Who are we to debate his wisdom, for we can’t even begin to comprehend it. It’s for us to follow the orders placed by those who can hear his voice and see what he sees.”

  Much to my horror, he lowered his gun and marched to Captain Ansalov. A piece of paper was exchanged, as were some muttered words. I don’t know what they agreed on, but I dreaded what might follow.

  It may have been the longest moment of my life.

  “I see,” Captain Janlav said in a dry voice when he finally handed back the paper. He turned to signal his men, a frown marring his forehead. But before he could speak, Merile did so.

  “I wasn’t trying to flee.” My sister shuffled next to Celestia, the black rat flanking her as though it could really protect her. “Walk. I was merely taking Mufu for a walk.”

  It was as if Captain Janlav hadn’t heard her. He retreated back to his men. Much to my and Elise’s shock, he motioned them to lower their rifles. Captain Ansalov’s soldiers did no such thing. I felt Alina pressing against my side, but I couldn’t comfort her then. Not when I needed someone to tell me that all would end well.

  “Reasons behind actions don’t matter.” Captain Ansalov spoke louder again. “There are orders that must be followed. It’s not for one man to think whether he is right or wrong or whether it pleases him to do so. For hesitance only leads to the ruin of common good.”

  Celestia wrapped an arm around Merile, drew our sister before her. Merile crossed her arms under her chest, and as she did so her sleeves rose up. It was then that both Celestia and I noticed the scarf around her wrist. It was red as blood.

  Celestia twitched ever so slightly upon seeing the gift the Poet had given Merile. She’d called it inappropriate and insulting before. But now, a calmness I knew to mask high-stake calculations fell upon her. I pinned my hope on her.

  “Wait.” My sister’s one word contained so much power that I was sure it was our father who spoke. “That is not the only order.”

  Time stood still again, but not as long as it did before.

  “You may be the empress-to-be,” Captain Ansalov sneered as he replied to my sister. He had his hand raised already. One motion, and shots would be fired, I was sure of that. Even Captain Janlav could do nothing to stop him. “But your words have no power here.
Not in the house, not even in the light of the Moon. We have our signed and sealed orders. We obey the great gagargi.”

  “So I have been told,” Celestia said, grabbing Merile’s wrist. She held it up so that no one could miss the red scarf, despite my sister trying to tug her hand free. “My sister is under the great gagargi’s personal protection. Do you not see what is before your own eyes?”

  The mongrel guards gasped. Their holds on the rifles slackened. They craned at Captain Ansalov, but it was clear now. They saw the scarf as something much more than an ill-picked fashion accessory. Bloodred like their gloves.

  “I wonder . . .” Captain Ansalov muttered. His expression stayed the same, pleasant and moderate, but no doubt his men’s disobedience infuriated him. “Tell me, how did you come by that thing?”

  Merile pulled her hand free. She pouted at Celestia as she rubbed her wrist, as if it simply hadn’t dawned on her that she’d ever so narrowly escaped being shot. “Seed. It’s a gift from my seed. Whatever for you that information need.”

  “A gift from the gagargi’s voice himself?” Captain Janlav wondered aloud, and it took me a while to get it, why he’d said such an obvious thing. He’d said it for the benefit of everyone present, in case they’d somehow missed the connection. “A favor not to be lightly dismissed.”

  The Moon’s light slanted and brushed against Captain Janlav, as if welcoming a long-lost son home. I think it was Papa’s way of saying that though under the gagargi’s orders, Captain Janlav would keep us safe for as long as he could.

  “Shall we not return indoors now that this unfortunate misunderstanding has been sorted out?” Celestia suggested, and without waiting for an answer, she guided Merile past Captain Ansalov and his men, toward the path leading back to the house.

  “Considering the circumstances, I couldn’t possibly allow you to walk back unescorted,” Captain Janlav said to her, then to his men, “Please accompany the daughters to their rooms.”

  Celestia and Merile had just about reached Elise and me then. Beard and Belly and Tabard and Boots fell beside us before I could as much as even blink. The next thing I knew, my sisters and I were escorted up the hill. Prisoners, yes, but alive.

  “Compeers, at ease. I commend you on your vigilance,” I heard Captain Ansalov say behind us. “Captain Janlav, a word with you.”

  Though I yearned to return to the house the fastest, to pretend I was safe for a moment at least, I wanted to, needed to hear the conversation between the two captains, too. As I stumbled up the slippery stone steps, I strained my ears. But I couldn’t hear a thing.

  Scribs, I really need to ask Alina to talk with the ghosts. We need to learn what sort of understanding the two captains reached, and the sooner the better.

  * * *

  I can’t sleep yet, Scribs. I have a bad conscience. Lately, I’ve had a lot of time to think, and having written what happened on that almost fateful night, I’ve come to realize that I may have acted just a little bit immaturely myself.

  For weeks and weeks, I loathed Celestia, and a part of me still does so. My sister chose Alina, Merile, and Elise over me. Had things turned out differently, I might have been shot on that blue winter day alongside General Monzanov. But that’s not how things came to be, and it’s no use being mad about something that didn’t happen. Or that’s what I tell myself. And you.

  Of course even the thought of being discarded like that hurt me immensely. But I’ve finally understood the rational reasoning behind my oldest sister’s decision, and now I’m ashamed.

  Remember when I speculated about Celestia having been under the gagargi’s spell? What if that wasn’t the end of his evil, what if he further exploited her while she was unable to comprehend which ideas were her own and which came from him? Yes, I mean what you think I mean, but I don’t want to write those horrid words on paper. If Celestia wants to keep it a secret, then I must respect her wish.

  But, you should ask me: what makes me think that the gagargi is guilty of more?

  I’ll tell you. You recall the visit at the witch’s cottage, the bargain my sister made with her, the bloody aftermath. What if the gagargi’s seed had taken root in my sister’s womb? What if the witch helped her to get rid of it? What if my sister hasn’t been since then suffering from the most irregular wretched days, but instead a condition much more severe?

  As soon as I realized this, saw the pieces I somehow missed earlier, everything clicked together. The future of our empire rests on the shoulders of Celestia’s daughters. Which she mightn’t be able to bear anymore. And that’s the biggest, most dangerous secret in this house, something that no one else must learn, Scribs. That’s why I’ll be smudging this over right now.

  Celestia had to choose Elise. There was no other choice. Really, there wasn’t.

  Poor little Alina is so frail, with her mind rotting, clouded by things we others can’t see. She won’t ever be able to take care of herself. She will always need us to protect her.

  And Merile . . . even if she’s both stubborn and reckless, she’s still our little sister, someone we must look after, though I don’t always much cherish that thought.

  Trust me, Scribs, protecting her was the very last thing in my mind when I confronted her the day after the incident. I had to, because she’d acted beyond selfish! I had to make sure she understood that she’d placed all of us in grave danger!

  I let her hear a proper lecture, with my voice raised, and slamming my fists against the oval table to punctuate the important bits. Merile replied with a tall tale about the witch and the magpie. Though Celestia and Elise remained customarily restrained, I don’t think they believed a word she said either. I told her as much.

  There has been no sign of the witch since we visited her cottage. And she doesn’t do favors.

  Merile cried and protested rather heart-wrenchingly, and Celestia and Elise opted to rather soothe her than further chastise her. But I refused to do so, because I knew I was right. We can’t possibly have anything more valuable to offer than the empress-to-be’s firstborn.

  Scribs, it just occurred to me that Celestia has put herself at risk already twice, first when she bargained with the witch to bring Alina back from the realm of shadows and the second time when she saved Merile. Of course I can’t know it for sure, but I think that if she could, she would do so also . . .

  No, I know that if Celestia had a choice, she would save me, regardless of the cost.

  I’m much comforted by this thought. For lately, I’ve harbored such resentment toward her that I’ve wished ill things to befall her. Good thing she hasn’t spoken to me and I haven’t spoken with her that much either. She’ll never need to learn how much I hated her for a while.

  But I don’t hate her anymore. No, I respect her.

  Scribs, I’ll go to bed soon, and I promise I’ll speak with her then. I’ll tell her I’ve forgiven her, and that if there’s anything in my power to help her defeat the gagargi, then she will only need to ask. After all, we’re the Daughters of the Moon, both of us, and if we don’t have each other’s backs, then no one has.

  Chapter 9: Elise

  I suck in the tainted air, and though my throat shrinks and my lungs blister, I don’t cry out like a newborn child who instinctively fears the first breath and the ones thereafter. I don’t cherish it like an exhausted athlete who has reached the finish line at last, who has given his all, and to whom, at that moment, it doesn’t matter if he lost or won. I don’t gasp for more like a soldier whose wounds are beyond healing, whose bravery or cowardliness no longer matters. I hold it in because I deserve the discomfort and pain that the world has in store for me.

  In the end, I must breathe out, for I’m not yet dead, and all living things must breathe. The cloud of smoke veils my sisters, the ethereal creatures in white that gather midsummer roses from the bushes that mark the border between the untended lawn and the steep, mossy slope. Though only the porch’s rail and the wet, overgrown grass separate us, it feels as i
f they were drifting out of my reach inevitably, irrevocably.

  “That good?” Beard studies me from under his bushy brows as Tabard pockets the matches with one flick of his thin wrist. Now that the windows are nailed shut, the guards sleep in turns behind the drawing room’s door. It’s easier for them, to be farther away from us during the nights. But during the days, they’re more and more drawn to us, as if my sisters and I were animals exotic and dangerous. This is because of Sibilia.

  “Thank you.” I favor Beard with a girlish smile that has never betrayed me and offer the cigarette to him. This isn’t my first smoke but among the first dozen still. I can’t pry my chamber’s lock open with a hairpin, but I can work with locks of the other kind. It was I who insisted Sibilia continue reading the scriptures after every dinner.

  Beard accepts the lit cigarette back, but he chuckles as he does so, my smile the key required. I watch him suck in the smoke, unfazed by the fact that his lips are now touching that which a Daughter of the Moon enjoyed mere moments ago. The world has truly changed.

  The rain has paused at last, but the swallows still seek shelter from behind the planks covering the windows, the insistent knocking of their beaks providing an accelerating rhythm for the tune of the day. From the corner of my eye, I glimpse Celestia indiscreetly waving at me. The tilt of her head signals growing impatience. Our younger sisters seem happily enough preoccupied with the roses under the watchful eye of Captain Janlav and that of Boy that might miss a thing or two.

  “I must join my sisters,” I say to Beard. I descend the porch’s steps, leaving him and Tabard behind. But only for a moment, for their duty is to keep us safe, if not from the gagargi, then at least from Captain Ansalov and his soldiers. The two captains have reached an agreement. The soldiers are not to enter the house. The guards are to keep us inside, the only exception being our daily outings. But as the rough jeers of the soldiers carry over from the stable yard, I wonder how long that exception will last.