“Sister Sylvie?” Sister Anouk jolted me out of my reverie with an elbow to the ribs.
“Ow.” I rubbed the spot she’d struck me. “What was that for?”
“Did you forget we’re on supper detail? Scion, you’ve been far away today.”
I trailed her to the kitchen, where a few huge pots were already bubbling away at the hearth.
“Idle fingers spin shadows.” Anouk shoved the metal handle of a large spoon into my hands. The impact buzzed along my palms, and I stared at my rough fingers, my split cuticles and cracked nails. I frowned. My fingers weren’t usually idle. And theydidspin shadows—shadows, and glittering cities, and impossible sunlight, and—
“Sylvie!” Anouk snapped, irritation staining her voice. “Don’t make me tell Mother Celeste you’ve gone lazy.”
I stirred while she chopped, making sure the stew didn’t clump or burn.
“Sister,” I said. The word tasted wrong, metallic and slick, but I clamped my teeth around it. A faint memory fluttered against my neck—a cracked plate, the flavors of rot and dust. “Sister, are you afraid of me?”
“Afraid?” She sliced an onion in half and smiled. “Of you? Why would I be afraid?”
“Because—” I scrabbled for memories I wasn’t sure belonged to me. My fingers found no purchase. “Because I’m an orphan?”
Anouk put down her knife and turned to face me. “Are you dusk-touched, Sister Sylvie? You know you are no orphan.”
“I’m not?”
“Of course not.” She snorted, and turned back to her chopping. “Your parents gave you to us—a tithe to the Scion.”
No—no, my mother wanted me, she ran with me into the Dusklands to get away from—
I put my head in my hands. “Why?”
She gave me another strange look. “You were their third child. Too many mouths to feed on a miner’s sparse salary.”
“So they didn’t love me?”
“Of course they love you! They’ll be here for your name day, you silly girl.” She ruffled my hair, affectionate. “They just don’t love you as much as we do.”
Name day?My heart thundered in my chest, hot as a raging sun.
“Sister Sylvie!” A fluting voice called down the steps to the kitchen, followed closely by a tiny, wrinkled woman. Her bones looked nearly as frail as the jet-black bird clinging to her shoulder and blinking beady eyes at me. A lively smile creased her face when she saw me. I dredged her name out of my confusion.Mother Celeste. “There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you.”
“Why?” I asked stupidly.
“Well, I know it’s not your name day until tomorrow,” she said. “But I wanted to be the first to give you a present. I know it’s nothing fancy, but since you don’t have any jewelry—”
Don’t have any jewelry.My hand flew to my chest, but of course, she was right. I didn’t own any jewelry. I stared at the simple necklace she took from her pocket—bits of string and colored glass, simple but pretty. A Dusklander’s treasure. I should have been thrilled—instead, I felt nothing. No, I felt …angry, lonely, neglected—
“No,” I said. “I don’t have a name day.”
“Of course you do, child.”
“No,” I repeated, louder. I stood, grasping desperately for the memories stirring at the base of my skull. “You said I was born outside the Scion’s light and—and my name was nothing but a curse. I begged,begged—all the other children got to celebrate their name days, with cake and gifts—but you refused. You said we’d just be inviting Dominion shadows into our hearts.”
Mother Celeste looked shocked. “Sylvie, I wouldnever—”
“But you did!” I put my hands on my throbbing temples. “I know you did.”
Anouk and Celeste shared a loaded glance. Anouk slowly approached me. I noticed she hadn’t put down her knife.
“No—this isn’tright.” Panic shredded my composure. “I’m not supposed tobehere.”
