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Winter hesitated at first, but then slipped her hand into hers. Together, they crossed the yard toward the carousel. The old ride sat silent beneath the afternoon sun, like it always did. X led Winter directly to the red fox.

Winter climbed onto it without being asked. X stepped behind her and carefully pulled the elastic from the end of her braid and loosened the strands. Immediately, various hues caught the sunlight.

Copper. Auburn. Burnished gold. The curls tumbled over Winter’s shoulders and down her back as X combed her fingers through her hair. Winter’s eyes drifted closed. For a moment, she looked peaceful.

Like a normal girl instead of a prisoner.

My attention shifted when X turned away. Summer sat nearby with her nose buried in a book. X plucked it from her hands. Summer frowned, the expression vanished though when X offered her hand.

A moment later, Summer sat atop the seahorse. Again, X removed her braid. This time, pale blonde strands unfurled beneath her fingers. The sunlight transformed them into spun gold. I found myself mesmerized by the contrast.

Winter Fire. Summer Sunlight.

It didn’t make any sense. X braided our hair this morning. One by one. So why was she undoing all her hard work?

The question lingered only briefly. Suddenly Mischa appeared. I almost laughed because that was exactly what I’d come to expect from her. One second, she wasn’t there. The next she’d materialized from thin air.

X looked down at her. The corner of her mouth curled. It wasn’t quite a smile, but it was sure close to it. The closest I’d ever seen. Merriment and affection danced in her eyes.

Mischa grinned. X gave an exaggerated bow, then gestured toward the swan. A giggle escaped the silly little thing as she scrambled onto it. X reached for her braid next.

Dark brown hair threaded with auburn highlights slipped free beneath her fingers. The strands caught the sunlight as well, flashing warm chestnut and copper.

Three girls. Three colors. Three seasons. My sisters. Three pieces of living artwork. I glanced around nervously, expecting one of the men to appear and scream at all of us. Punish us.

But the yard remained silent.

Maybe X knew something I didn’t. Maybe they weren’t home. Before I could dwell on it too much, she turned toward me. Green eyes met blue. She tilted her head toward the carousel.

An invitation.

My heart stuttered. The grass brushed against my legs as I scrambled to my feet. I hurried across the yard. By the time I reached them, the others were already sitting in anticipation. Of what? I did not know.

X reached for my braid. Her fingers were firm but gentle. She removed the elastic first. Then slowly began to unravel the woven strands. One section at a time. The sensation made my scalp tingle. A low hum drifted from her throat.

It was incredibly soft and beautiful. It reminded me of a lullaby. The melody was barely louder than the breeze. She combed her fingers through my hair afterward, separating the strands until they settled around my shoulders.

I don’t know how long she spent doing it. Long enough that an ache filled me. I missed my mum. As tears gathered, she stepped away. The carousel groaned as she pushed the button to turn it on.

The platform began to turn. Slowly at first, then faster. Mischa threw her head back. Her eyes closed and her long hair streamed behind her as laughter spilled free.

Summer followed a heartbeat later. Then, to my utter surprise, Winter did as well. The wind caught their hair. Color spun around us in a blur. I looked toward X.

She was watching. Her eyes fixed on mine. A strange ripple moved through me. It was as if she were giving me permission to be a little girl.

I tipped my face toward the sky. The breeze slid through my loose hair. My eyelids drifted closed and freedom filled my soul. Goosebumps broke out over my arms.

The humming was louder now, and I opened my eyes. X was moving alongside the carousel. Twirling through the grass beside us. My heart lurched violently. And for one impossible moment in time, she looked like she, too, was just a little girl.

Not a thing. Not a prisoner. Not a sacrifice. Not X.

She was someone. Worthy of love, happiness, and hope. It was the most beautiful thing I’d seen in a long time. X with the sunlight on her upturned face. The soft laughter spilling from her. Her threadbare shift dancing in the wind.

The memory shattered.

Isabella

The studio rushed back into focus. My easel sat waiting. I stared down at the porcelain doll cradled in my hands. The painted face blurred, and the ache in my heart intensified.