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Yet, the royal procession flows into the arena like a river of silk and steel. Guards in ceremonial armor. Servants carrying standards. Minor nobles jockeying for a position close to the king.

And in the center of it all walks King Edric of Meridia.

My father, who I could never make proud.

He moves stiffly, his head high and regal, his gold beard showing a bit more white. Makeup hides the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. His wavy gold locks have been curled so they fall in aesthetic waves to his shoulders.

Looking at me, you’d never know we were related. If not for the fact that my twin sister is my father’s spitting image, my mother might have been accused of adultery. With my dark hair and eyes, I resemble Mother only, my first failure to him.

My chest goes tight as the familiar shame hits.

I have to leave before Father spots me. Keeping my head down, I shove through the crowd, using my elbows when people don’t move fast enough. Someone curses at me. Another person shoves me back. I don’t stop until I’m out of the stands, with all of the tournament between Father and me.

Then I start sprinting.

A squire racing through the corridors isn’t unusual, so no one pays me any mind. As I rush for the next intersection, I’m not paying enough attention to where I’m going and slam into someone.

I stumble, an apology already on my lips when I check to see who I ran into.

Golden blond hair, curled into perfect waves. Blue eyes the color of the shore. Pale skin over perfect features, except for the nose that’s ever-so-slightly crooked. Another of my failures, this one earned when, as a child, I elbowed her in the face to save my shadow spinners from being stomped to death under her silk slippers.

Calla.

My sister.

She glows in an expensive ice-blue gown that matches the silk choker with a large diamond around her neck and gives her blond hair the appearance of spun honey. Ever graceful, she reclaims her balance with ease and peers down her nose at me.

For half a heartbeat, I consider running along and acting like I didn’t recognize her. Before I can activate that plan, she reaches out and pinches my sleeve between her fingers.

“Oh my gods. What’s happened to you?”

Calla’s unexpected presence throws my mind into disarray. The list of what’s happened is too long to recite, especially with Calla’s maids flanking her and watching her and our interaction. They clearly recognize me too.

The furrow in my sister’s brow smooths when her servants start tittering, and the hint of concern I thought I saw vanishes. She flicks my hat off and tuts. “You’re up to your old shenanigans, aren’t you, Esme? Always being strange. What are you doing here dressed like a squire?”

I wrench my arm free and snatch up my hat. “Warden business, and nothing you’d care about considering you never have to care about anything but how your hair looks.”

I know it’s childish the moment it leaves my mouth, but lashing out is the only way to stop the shame from crawling up my throat.

Calla straightens. Her eyes trail over my clothes again, slower this time and more deliberate. “Mother would be—” She cuts herself off so abruptly, her teeth click together.

Neither of us says anything.

We don’t talk about Mother. No one in the household has since the funeral six years ago. It’s an unspoken rule, but one of the few things Calla and I always agreed on.

Her familiar, pleasant mask slides into place. “You look tired. Are you eating enough?”

Coming from her, I don’t know how to respond to that question. She almost sounds worried, but that notion doesn’t fit into my worldview, so I’m not sure what to do with it.

But this is Calla, who once told me in front of the entire court that my dress made me look like a pregnant cow. Calla, who smiles with all her teeth when Father praises her but bares them at me. Calla, who has spent our entire lives making it clear she’s the superior twin.

Do I bother attempting to explain what’s been going on, the experiences I live through, and why I’m in this state?

I must have delayed too long, because her mouth tightens before she snaps her fan out in front of her, almost like a shield. “I suppose that’s none of my business either. Never mind. I’m sure you have very important Warden business to attend to.”

She sweeps past me. The maids flow in her wake like ducklings following their mother.

I press myself against the wall. Making myself small. Invisible. As if anyone ever notices me anyway.