Roxie sat back in her chair and frowned, crossing her arms under her chest. “Fine. I guess it’s just me and you at the dress shop then. I’ll need your help to zip me up.” Roxie brightened at the thought. “We can find for dresses for Ara and Seren, too. What color do you think?”
Seren’s eyes darkened. “I’ll be fine without a dress.”
Roxie’s smile turned mischievous. “This will be fun. How do you feel about the color pin–”
“If you truly love the sound of your voice as much as it seems you do, I would refrain from finishing that sentence,” Seren interrupted, reminding Roxie of how easily she had taken her voice away with a jinx the other day.
Roxie frowned. “Fine. Black. Like your soul.”
Seren grinned over her cup of tea. “Perfect.”
“And Ara will wear white to match the pureness of her spirit,” Roxie said, smirking. “I’m back to wondering how you two are even truly related.”
Ara set her cup down on the saucer, the porcelain rattling. “Really, Roxie. There is no need to get us dresses. We’ll figure it out.”
Roxie shook her head. “No, Ara. You know how my parents are. The more money they see on the shop bill, the better they feel.” She turned to Lily and explained. “They would rather buy my love than show any sign of emotional availability.”
Lily’s eyebrows knitted together. “Oh, that’s . . . sad.”
“Exactly, it is so sad,” Roxie agreed, her face animated. “So make me feel better and come to the dress shop with me and spend a ridiculous amount of lucres.”
Ara watched Lily and Seren share a glance and come to an agreement without words. She examined them closer and could almost see the bonds of friendship they had forged, so similar to her and Roxie, and found she was happy her sister had someone like Lily the way she had Roxie.
“I’ll come,” Lily agreed. “But I get to pick Seren’s dress.”
The almost overwhelming feeling of gratitude that rolled off her sister to Lily warmed something deep within her.
“And what will you two get up to while we are gone for the day?” Roxie asked.
Seren opened her mouth to say something, but Ara cut her off. “We actually have plans together today.”
“Do we?” Seren asked.
“Do you?” Roxie and Lily echoed.
“We do.” Ara nodded. “Meet me in our favorite spot to argue in an hour or so?”
She left the table, not waiting for Seren to nod her understanding or worse, refuse to meet her.
Ara straightened the blanket on the stone floor and rearranged the small cake, plates, and candles she brought. She had told Seren to meet her in an hour or so, and it seemed Seren was pushing just how much time or so meant. The conservatory was cool and quiet like it always was, but something seemed different. The room usually smelled of sickly sweet dead things but today, underneath that smell, was the scent of rich fertile soil, as if freshly tilled. It reminded Ara of the way her father smelled after a long day on the farm and the thought made it hard to swallow.
Ara stood when the heavy door to the room screeched open, announcing Seren’s arrival. She shifted from foot to foot, unsure of what her sister might think of the small celebration she had arranged.
Seren stopped near the statue with the outstretched hand by the fountain and stared, her face unreadable. “I thought you had forgotten.”
Ara frowned. “Father’s birthday? I would never forget. Is that why you were mean this morning?”
Seren stiffened and then nodded. “You acted like today was any other day. The first words out of your mouth were about my augere.” She reached up and touched the comb in her hair.
Ara sighed. “I will not argue with you about how people mourn differently or that I thought nothing I said out in the open would be welcome or that our friends joined us almost as soon as I sat down. I’m sorry I didn’t immediately say what it was you wanted me to say. If you’ll give me my lines in advance, I will learn them for you.” She sat down on the blanket and stuck the candles into the cake. She waved a hand over the candles, fire springing from the wicks, and quickly blew them out. “Happy birthday, Papa.”
Ara started to gather everything she brought when Seren sat down and relit the candles. She sat back as Seren closed her eyes and blew out the candles.
“Happy birthday, Papa.”
Seren passed her a plate and a knife and she cut the small cake into two, sliding one half onto the plate and handing it back to Seren, who took a deep breath, breathing in the flavors.
“Lemon and lavender,” Ara offered as she handed Seren a fork and took her own plate. Their father always brought them back a sprig of lavender and a lemon when he traveled from home, saying the sweet and sour reminded him of his girls.
