“Help me, Rowenna! We have to get him down the mountain.”
When she doesn’t move, I slide my hands beneath Alaric’s arms and try to move him myself. I manage one step—one tiny step that makes Alaric cry out in pain—before he slips back onto the rocks.
I look back up at my sister who’s just standing there, watching dispassionately, and for the first time, a small part of me wishes shehaddied all those months ago.
“How is any of this possible?” I cry. “You weredead! I saw your body in Tashir—I prepared you for burial myself.”
“Yes, thank you for dealing with all of that,” Ro says with a flip of her hand—as if her thanks is all that was needed, not an explanation about where the body came from, since it clearly wasn’t hers.
“Who was she?” I demand. “The girl you sent to Tashir in your place?”
“Some poor soulRowennashoved off a cliff,” Alaric rasps. “If I wasn’t dying already, the irony might kill me.”
Rowenna shoots Alaric a lethal glare.
“Is it true?” I ask my sister. “Did you…?”
Rowenna bristles. “No, I didn’t kill anyone. Honestly, Indira! Is that how little you think of me?”
I don’t answer. I don’t know what to think anymore.
Rowenna sighs heavily and looks down at the clover on her wrist, tracing the green leaves. “The girl was a friend from the village.”
“A ‘friend’ who just so happened to look like you?” Alaric grindsout. “With the same distinctive tattoo? Who conveniently died of natural causes right when you needed to disappear?”
My stomach twists tighter with every glaring coincidence.
“Yes!” Rowenna snaps back at Alaric. “Vallista was desperate to make a better life for herself. She dreamed of working in the palace and becoming a courtier one day. I liked her tenacity, so I pulled some strings and found her a position.”
Something about Rowenna’s story prods at my brain, tickling with familiarity, but I can’t put my finger on what.
“I changed her life,” Ro goes on. “That’swhy Val wanted to be like me—and why she had the same clover tattooed on her wrist. She was always commenting on how lovely mine was and how she adored the sisterly connection it represented. She longed so desperately for that kind of closeness, and it seemed like another simple thing I could give her—especially since I wasn’t sure I’d ever see you again.” Rowenna glances at me sheepishly. “So I found an artisan to etch a replica onto Vallista’s wrist.”
“You replaced me?” My voice cracks painfully.
Ro adamantly shakes her head. “Of course not. I just widened our circle. We’re allowed to have friends beyond each other, you know.”
“Youwere allowed to have other friends,” I argue. “But you groomed me to be completely dependent on you.”
Rowenna rolls her eyes. “Shutting out the world was your decision. Don’t blame your lack of social skills on me.”
I shake my head because the more I think about it, the more I’m certain most of my decisions were actually Rowenna’s in disguise. She knew how to frame ideas to make me believe they were my own. How to make me believe I needed her and no one else.
“What happened to Vallista?” I demand. “How did she end up dead in Tashir with such fortuitous timing?”
“Val left Vanzador of her own accord,” Rowenna says. “Or she tried to. She became completely besotted with a traveling minstrel and left with the boy and his troupe, despite only knowing him for a fewdays—and despite all the trouble I’d gone to securing her employment,” she mutters. “I was offended, of course, but I would never kill someone over hurt feelings.”
The prodding in my brain grows more insistent.
Then, finally, it comes to me.
Cloudia’s best friend supposedly ran off with a traveling minstrel. And didn’t Delphine mention the girl was close with Rowenna?
“Unfortunately, Vallista didn’t even make it off the mountain,” Rowenna continues soberly. “The minstrel boy was a vile drunk. He beat Val and pushed her body off a cliff during their descent. I happened to find her body, and I saw an opportunity to make something good come from a terrible tragedy.”
My mouth bobbles open and closed, and I stare at my sister in disbelief. “Even if you justhappenedto find her, you had no right taking her body. Her family and friends will never know what became of her! They will never have the opportunity to mourn and say goodbye.”
“Assuming any of that story is true,” Alaric says in a painful whisper.
