The Sisters of the Crescent Empress

Chapter 10: Celestia

As I lean against the window’s frame, I feel the night, the darkening hour, the calm that falls over the garden and the lake, though I can’t see it yet. The curtains were nailed against the white wood and sewn shut six weeks and four days ago. Until recently, we simply let them be that way.

“Is it the time?” Sibilia teeters on our bed’s edge, opening and closing the book of scriptures in turns. Though this is the seventh time she is about to strengthen me, her nervousness hasn’t eased. It haunts her through the days. “Ah, drat, I must use the chamber pot again. Sorry.”

“Don’t worry, dear Sibilia,” I whisper at her, and seeing her smile back at me is more than I deserve. I chose to abandon her. Yet she has forgiven me, unlike Elise, who still refuses to see beyond the veil of the gagargi’s propaganda. “We will see the Moon tonight.”

I set to unraveling the thick black thread holding the curtains together, one stitch at a time. We can’t let the thread snatch. Any knot could be easily detected by Millie when she tidies our rooms during our daily outings. She might choose to continue her silence, or then she might not. Fear does unpredictable things to people.

Elise has changed. I fear she has started to believe the gagargi’s lies. It bothers me that I don’t know how this came to be. She is young. She is naïve. Perhaps that alone sufficed. The gagargi is very charismatic. I, if anyone, know that.

It isn’t only this that contributes to my increasing disquiet. I don’t know if Alina really saw a shadow the day that we heard music. She claims that an ape came to warn her about the gagargi’s arrival, but that it was so faded by the distance traveled that it couldn’t tell her more before vanishing altogether. Two weeks and six days have passed since then with no further news. But it would be pure madness not to prepare for the imminent encounter by whatever means available to us.

The thread tightens. A frayed part has caught on the edge of a blooming midsummer rose. I will my fingers nimbler, the movements more precise. Each day, the unraveling becomes a task trickier, the secrets weigh heavier on my heart. Even so, my sisters must not learn what Sibilia and I are contriving. Elise has become unreliable. She thinks me selfish, that I should abandon our younger sisters and just return to the gagargi, that this simple act would end the bloodshed. Merile and Alina are too young to benefit from the hope that may yet turn false. For even with Sibilia’s help…

I am done with the unraveling. The curtains part slightly, and a thin sliver of night winds its way in. I inhale exaggeratedly slowly. My swan-self says the air tastes different, too moist and cold. I am tempted to believe her. The maples have turned bloodred, too early considering that it is still summer here. Perhaps it is because lately it has rained almost constantly. The house’s pale orange paint flakes, revealing the gray plaster beneath. The posters glued on the garden walls disintegrate in the moisture. The gagargi’s face is bubbling as if he were covered with warts.

He is not diseased, but a disease of which I must cleanse my empire.

“Please let it not rain.” Porcelain scratches against the floor as Sibilia pushes the chamber pot under our bed. She is concerned that we might not be met with our father’s gaze tonight, that instead she might need to guide me through the spell once more.

Though I have already smelled the air and know what awaits us, I press my ear against the curtains that wait to be parted. Some secrets are mine to keep, more dangerous than others. I think of the flooding lake, the ever-swelling puddles before the garden wall, the path that is fully submerged, the swans that nest by the lake, that can now swim all the way to the iron gate. They observe my sisters and me through the elaborate bars. As they sing throaty tunes, my swan-self yearns to sing back at them. But this I can’t tell to my sisters any more than I dare to reveal that I might not be able to bear children.

I say, “It doesn’t rain now.”

“Great.” Sibilia tiptoes to me as I slowly pull the curtains apart. I don’t know how many more times we can do so without fraying them too much. Perhaps once. Perhaps two times. No more than that, I think. “You won’t believe how glad I am that we’re not practicing the spell. I’m so worried about you accidentally saying it aloud and wasting all of our father’s power! Remember that once you do start pronouncing it, you can’t say another word before you unleash it. And every word you say after that will drain more and more of your strength.”

She has told me all that a dozen times before, but I smile at her as I reply, “I will remember that.”

The black pane is cracked, and beyond it lies the gap between the planks. I broke the glass the first time we parted the curtains, to perform the sacred rites of the midsummer night. The crack has remained the same since, but the gap grows wider every day. Soon, no doubt, the soldiers will grow suspicious of the magpie that seems so intent on nesting behind the planks. I am not wary of the bird, but curious. While I am tempted to believe that the witch and the magpie might be connected—perhaps the bird is her companion like the two dogs are Merile’s—that perhaps the Moon has chastised her for asking such a heavy fee from me, I have no proof one way or another. I haven’t met the witch since we visited her cottage. She hasn’t shown herself to me, and how could she with the guards shadowing my every step?

I can but rely on things I know are real. “I am ready.”

“Me too,” Sibilia replies.

Beyond the crack and the gap, the night is pale, just an imitation of the true darkness, but we know our father is still present. I nod at Sibilia, and she opens the book of scriptures. She hasn’t marked the page, but as she knows each section by heart, it doesn’t take her long to locate the right passage. She breathes rapidly as she prepares to read the holy words. She parts her lips, but no words come out. Instead, she pronounces a silent shape, powerful and arcane.

A ray of light slants in through the gap between the planks, the cracked black glass, and the parted curtains. It pierces the dimness of the room, paints a perfect circle on the floor, before my bare feet. I am pristine and white once more, even if only for a moment.

“Father,” I sing softly under my breath as Sibilia has instructed. “Make me stronger.”

The Moon’s light grows denser, thicker. And then I feel my father’s embrace, his thousand hands on my shoulders, caressing my cheeks, my hair. This is more than I deserve, and there are those who would be more deserving of his love. But it is I who must put an end to the gagargi’s twisted rule. I who has to face him. I who must be able to persuade him to let me bring my sisters with me.

For I will not leave them here, no matter what Elise may think the best course of action. As much as it is my duty to protect my people, I must also keep my sisters safe. And now that my father has blessed me with his presence, I know that I am right.

I close my eyes. I let my father see into my mind, into my heart. He is gentle and caring. He knows I am earnest, that my reasoning isn’t affected by selfish ambitions or lust for power. I hold only the best interest of my people and my sisters close to my heart. He will make me stronger. He will…

His presence feels different. Hurried and imperfect. Pale things, like sheets drying in wind, flicker before my eyes. They are like… Can they be? Yes, they are images, glimpsed from too far away, for too short a while.

“Father…” A ragged breath escapes my composure. I am not married to the Moon. What he yearns to show me, I can’t yet fully see.

My father withdraws, the images disappearing, but his touch doesn’t leave me vulnerable and lacking. Not like the one that hurt me so much.

“Celestia.” Sibilia’s voice brings me back.

I blink, but the images are gone. How long was I under my sister’s spell? For a minute or for an hour? I always lose track of time when connected to my father.

“How do you feel?” Sibilia asks, curious of her own powers and our father’s, too.

The circle at my feet has broken. The light trickling in is duller. The short night is over.

That day I first read my sister’s diary, I resolved to never lie to her again. But speaking half-truths isn’t the same thing. I reply, “Stronger.”

But as I once more sew the curtains together, I don’t know if I will ever be able to defy the gagargi. For it seems that even my father’s powers have a limit.

At first, I mistake the approaching, rumbling sounds for thunder. It has rained for weeks, after all. But then the clamor travels through the house, from the library to the hallway and up the two stairways. From that I know that the moment I have dreaded for so long has finally arrived.

Elise stirs on the sofa where she dozes these days when she isn’t playing her feeble games with the guards. She doesn’t seem to realize that regardless of how fond the guards grow of us, in the end they will have no choice but to obey their orders.

Sibilia lowers the book of scriptures on her lap. She squints past the smoke at the flickering flames. She tosses one more log in, though she knows it won’t make any difference.

Merile and Alina pause playing with the hand mirror on the carpet. The two dogs bounce onto their feet, alert. The brown one lets out a low growl.

I say in a voice in which I pray the Moon shall bear no trace of my terror, “Gagargi Prataslav is here.”

Though I have had seven months and two weeks since we left the Summer Palace to prepare for this encounter, my statement frightens every single one of them. Elise, who so casually suggested I go with the gagargi and leave my sisters to face death or worse. Sibilia, who turned to the scriptures for comfort, who found something more, but still frets about missing her debut. Merile and Alina, who understand that the gagargi is evil, but blessedly nothing more.

“He’s greeting the captains downstairs,” Alina says, and Merile nods, avoiding looking at the mirror’s reflection. From this I know that Irina and Olesia are present, a complication I would have hoped to avoid. Yet I can’t reveal that I know of this—in this house knowledge is power.

“Gather around, my sisters,” I say. I can’t allow myself to be distracted by the past, mistakes made by my mother for which I may yet need to bear the blame. “We may not have much time.”

My sisters do as I ask, even Elise, who no longer cares about traditions and rules. She has her arms crossed over her chest, her gaze downcast. Does she hope or dread that I will heed her advice? Sibilia meets my eyes boldly. The two of us share a secret. She thinks I have a chance against the gagargi. Merile and Alina know nothing at all. They are our little sisters. I believe every single one of us, even Elise, would do whatever is in our power to protect them.

“The gagargi will want to see only me,” I say. Of that, I am quite sure. It is only I who is of value and importance to him. He wants me to stand by his side before the crowds and bear a child of his seed. It is only that way that my people will ever accept him as a ruler assigned by the Moon. “You are to wait here. Even if I may stay away for a long while, don’t be afraid. Captain Janlav and the guards will not let any harm come to you.”

For as long as it is possible, at least. Since the day we listened to the music, they have been more and more drawn to us. They visit us during the long afternoons, bringing the gramophone and the frail discs with them. We play cards until six, for then they must join Captain Ansalov and his soldiers in the dining room. But after both my sisters and the guards are sustained, they return to hear Sibilia reading the scriptures. Though Elise has been wrong about many things, I must approve of her cunning in ever so casually setting up these new routines, making our last weeks together that little fraction better.

“But you will come back?” Merile asks, glancing sideways at Alina, who is already in tears. It is as if they are both convinced that they will never see me again. The ghosts in the mirror must be whispering disconcerting things to them.

“I will come back,” I promise, but there is a note of falseness in my voice. The gagargi is a magnificent opponent. Though the Moon has strengthened me, it may be that I can’t resist the gagargi’s spells. It is well possible that I may not be able to make him believe my words as his own. Yet I can but try, even if this may hurt me beyond healing. “But I might return changed.”

“As a swan,” Alina whispers, and breaks down in sobs that tremble her whole, frail body.

“Hush.” Sibilia kneels to embrace our little sister. As she holds her, her sleeves reach barely over her elbows. She hasn’t yet met the limits of her body. Or mind. “Celestia is strong. You needn’t be afraid.”

I wish only that I could believe in myself as much as Sibilia does. When the gagargi last put his spell on me, I was unprepared and weak. He did things to me that can’t be undone. Yet I can’t let the past affect me now.

“I must prepare myself,” I say. The spell Sibilia taught me is similar to the one she first learnt. In principle, it should allow me to make the gagargi believe that he should take all of us with him. While this wouldn’t guarantee us freedom, it would broaden our options. For in this house, hope is extinct.

Elise brushes my shoulder, her touch soft as a falling feather. “Will you accept an embrace for good luck?”

This I didn’t expect. It is not an apology. I doubt she will ever ask for my forgiveness, but it is something, a concession perhaps. And though I should get ready for the encounter with the gagargi, at that moment it becomes more important to me to simply be close to my sisters, to soothe my aching heart, and that is what I do.

As I hold my sisters and they hold me, I think, there was a time when I could easily brush my feelings aside. How inconvenient it is to be overcome by emotions! How inconvenient indeed, and yet it feels like a blessing still!

There is a knock, followed by a nervous rattle of the key. I gently pry my hem free of Alina’s grip. Her fingers are so tiny, thin and narrow. I don’t want to let go of them, but that is what I must do. “This is where we must part, but it will be only for a moment.”

Alina stares at my feet—no, at my shadow—and wipes her tears away with the back of her hand. “You will come back.”

The door opens before I can ask for more or decide not to do so. It is Beard and Tabard. This time around, they have their rifles strapped against their backs. They also wear long knives at their belts, visible rather than hidden. These two things tell me everything I need to know.

“Gagargi Prataslav has come for me.”

“Aya.” Beard stares at his thick knuckles, the hands clasped into fists. “The great gagargi has indeed arrived.”

I glide toward the guards without them having to order me. I know the role I have to play. I will not fight against it. “I am ready.”

Tabard clears his throat, and yet he is hesitant to deliver the message. “He told us to bring all of you.”

It is only because I am already moving that my steps don’t falter. What can the gagargi possibly want with my sisters? Will he threaten them to make me do his bidding? Or does he have more sinister plans in store for us? I can but mentally prepare for that.

“Come along then, my sisters,” I say lightly, as if I had known to anticipate this as well. “Gather in a line behind me.”

I don’t glance over my shoulder as I exit the room. My sisters know their places. And there is no place else for them to go, but to follow me.

It rains outside, something that we have grown used to, but that feels more ominous now that the gagargi shelters under the same roof. The stairs thud hollow under our steps. The hallway leading to the dining room feels longer. This doesn’t disturb me—I shall use the time in my hands to prepare myself for the encounter.

It is the gagargi who told me to decide whether I will be a victim or a victor, and so I seek strength from the harm he inflicted on me in the past rather than let seeing him surface it all again and weaken me at the crucial moment.

He made me fail my people. His is the blame for the civil war, even if it was I who first sought his guidance.

He made me fail my mother. His is the blame for her demise. He put me under his spell and made me think the coup my idea.

He made me fail myself. His is the blame for my pain. It was him who stole my soul and sowed his seed in my womb. He did this when I was powerless to resist him.

As we reach the dining room’s closed door, Boots and Belly standing guard before it, I make myself a solemn promise. I may have been a victim before, but tonight, I shall be the victor.

Boots nods at me before rapping the door with his knuckles. There is no reply, but he opens it nevertheless, announces, “The daughters are here.”

“Please, ask them to join us.” Gagargi Prataslav calls at us in a pleasantly low voice, as if we were about to share a cup of zavarka tea together and not discuss our fates.

Boots stomps aside, and I must remind myself that the gagargi is but a man—a wicked man, but just a man still. I am the oldest Daughter of the Moon. It is not I who will be facing him, but her. Holding on to this thought, I lead my sisters into the room that we might not leave with our souls intact.

“Celestia. The Daughters of the Moon.” Gagargi Prataslav’s black braids are glued against his skull. His face is still wet with the rain, and tiny drops cling to his voluminous beard. His drenched black robes hang against his wiry frame, and yet, he looks like a man who is delighted to have faced the storm.

I remind myself again that he is only a man. But it isn’t only him who awaits us in the room.

Behind him stand at attention Captain Janlav and Captain Ansalov, the shoulders of their gray coats striped with rain, their boots covered in mud. When I still watched the events unfold from my mother’s shadow, I met many generals, dozens of captains, and hundreds of soldiers of lesser rank. I know how to read their faces and postures. These two men have been reporting to the gagargi. Captain Janlav is a soldier delivering bad news, dreading his ruler’s reaction, but who has braced himself for the inevitable punishment. Captain Ansalov smiles smugly. He is a soldier delivering good news, sure of rewards to follow, of praises and reputation gained.

Seeing this, my swan-self wants to scamper out of the room, regardless of the consequences. I push her opinions aside. For a true empress, there is no distinction between good and bad news. Both are information upon which to lay plans and make decisions. Rather than surrendering to my swan-self’s terror, I ask myself two questions.

Why are the two captains present?

Why did the gagargi want to see my sisters?

“Gagargi Prataslav,” I say as my sisters and I form a crescent in the order of our ages. Perhaps the gagargi thinks that the mere presence of the two captains will suffice to distract me. Perhaps, but guessing is never sufficient replacement for knowledge. “So thoughtful of you to travel all the way here to greet us.”

“Yes. I am a very thoughtful man.” The gagargi’s smile reveals his slightly crooked white teeth, but there is no indication yet of a spell spun or cast. What is he waiting for? Or is he simply toying with me? I am tempted to form my spell, but I sense now is not yet the right moment.

Rain lashes against the planks covering the windows. From the corner of my eye, I catch Alina and Merile huddling closer to each other, unaccustomed to the absence of their dogs. The gagargi knows my mind and soul. Just as I have had time to think about this encounter, so has he. He must have realized that I am in full control of myself, that no mere isolation, loss of freedom, could ever break my spirit. But my younger sisters aren’t as resilient. He summoned them, the two captains, into this room so that my sisters would react, so that their distress would disturb my composure, so that he could then catch me off guard and put me under his spell with ease. Just like me, he is merely waiting for the moment to strike.

Boldly, I take a step forward, to shield my sisters from the evil of this man. I will protect them with all the power bestowed on me by the Moon. This is no secret.

“Close the door,” the gagargi suggests to Boots. Captain Janlav shifts his weight, but there are no orders for him. None for Captain Ansalov either.

“Now then, let me have a look at you, dearest Celestia.” The gagargi approaches me, and though he is soaked, he still smells of incense, sharp and pungent. My swan-self screeches. She recognizes a predator when she sees one. “You have been gone for so long. I have missed your company on many a lonely night. But of course it isn’t only about me. Your people miss you, too.”

He speaks as much to me as to the two captains and my sisters. He knows me, knows I have considered every option and eventuality, and as a result reached the one conclusion that is almost too painful to admit aloud. But for me to be able to ambush him with the spell Sibilia taught me, he must feel in control. Though it pains me to have my sisters hear what I am about to say, I have no other option but to part with the words he wants to hear. “I have run as far as I can.”

“Yes. That you have.” He reaches to fondly cup my chin, his skin clammy against mine. And still, there is no sign of a spell, nothing to fight against. I meet his deep, dark gaze. What is this game he plays? “The time has come for you to return.”

As he touches me, images of the night I followed him into his bed flash past my eyes, memories earlier suppressed. My head pressed against his chest. His skin rough against mine. I knew joy with him, but not out of my own will. He wanted me to think I wanted it, liked it, though that I never did.

I push the past aside. I refuse to be a victim a moment longer.

“Yes. That it has.” I mirror his words on purpose, focusing on what matters now. I know from the propaganda reports, the manifest, and his very presence here that even though the gagargi is winning the battles, he hasn’t won over the heart of my people. No matter how many souls he has stolen, he hasn’t been able to make the bloodshed end.

“Join me now, and let us put all this unpleasantness behind us.” His gaze intensifies, and I twitch my head sideways as if it were becoming unbearable. He must believe me weak, once wounded beyond recovery. “We shall stand before the gathered crowds at the autumn equinox. We shall greet the Moon together and receive his blessing to our rule and that of our future daughters.”

Our daughters… he doesn’t have a clue about how close he came to accomplishing his goal, what ridding myself of his seed has potentially cost me. Which is good.

But from the corner of my eye, I catch Elise beaming approvingly. This is what she has wanted me to do all along, though the invitation to leave this house is meant only for me. But it is an unexpected opening, one I can’t leave unexplored. “My people would be relieved to see their empress and her sisters unharmed.”

“Your sisters?” Gagargi Prataslav muses, removing his hand from my chin to stroke his wet beard. “Unharmed…”

I realize my mistake then. All this conversation, mere intimidation, the lack of attack on his behalf, it was just a maneuver for him to push me into revealing my plan. The Moon help us! No, our father can’t help us now. It is up to me to reclaim what can still be salvaged.

“Yes.” He strolls past me, to Elise, and when he does, his attention shifts to her. “The younger Daughters of the Moon.”

I don’t know if this is the optimal time to act or if I will only make the situation worse. But having revealed what I yearned to accomplish, I can but strive to turn the course of events toward a more favorable path. Pressing my lips tight together, I begin to pronounce the one hundred and seventeen consonants and three vowels that form the glyph.

“I remember you, sweet Elise,” the gagargi says, a terribly pleasant tone to his voice. Drawn by this, I turn around, though I am but one-fifth through the letters. Captain Ansalov smirks at me. He thinks me distraught. “You contributed to the cause most generously. We funded many a strike against the Enemy, thanks to your donations.”

Elise flinches, and just like her, I will the gagargi’s words to be a lie. But of course that they are not. Everything that he says makes perfect sense. My sister’s darker moods. Her fraternizing with the guards. The argument that led to our unbridged disagreement. This realization almost leads me to lose track of the glyph’s letters. Almost, but not quite.

“Celestia…” Elise pleads with me, though she should remain silent. Can she not see from my expression that I need to focus? Does she not understand that apologies are of no benefit to us, that emotions may only lead us all to ruin? “Please, Celestia!”

I pronounce the last silent consonant, and the glyph surges to life in my mouth. Even if I wanted to speak words of consolation, I couldn’t voice them, not without releasing the spell first. Even if… But I have nothing to say to my sister, not until I have considered through the full implications of her selfish actions. And that is something I can’t afford to focus on now. It will have to wait.

“War is such a messy business. To see a sister turn against sister…” The gagargi shakes his head, and drops scatter from his braids and his beard onto the plank floor. The spell swirls in my mouth. “Ah, it breaks my heart.”

Upset by what she must consider cold-hearted silence from me, Elise blinks back tears. The gagargi glances at me, to see if this revelation had any effect. I don’t need to pretend shock, but it pains me to let him see it. Yet, he needs to believe that my plans have come undone, that I have lost my trust in my sister.

“I don’t recall your name, younger Daughter of the Moon,” the gagargi says as he moves onward, to harass Sibilia. He leers at the too-taut front of her dress, the too-short sleeves, and the dirty hem. “You are the one who doesn’t matter, but you must have realized that by now.”

Sibilia gazes past the gagargi, pretending braveness, pretending so much more. Out of my sisters, only she understands why I don’t, can’t say a word. She knows and believes in me, even though I was once ready to abandon her.

“Yes. That you have,” the gagargi replies to his own speculations. To him, my sister is still expendable. He has no idea of her powers, and if it is up to me, he will never learn of them. “You are of no interest to me either. How does that make you feel?”

Sibilia blushes, but otherwise manages to hold on to her composure, and I am so proud of her that the spell almost manages to sneak out from between my lips. I tilt my chin up, clench my teeth together. To my sisters, the two captains, it must look as if my façade of calm were crumbling.

The gagargi chuckles, and the rain outside grows heavier. Wind knocks against the barred windows, loud and insistent. My swan-self warns me of approaching thunder. She tells me to fly away. But even if I could, now isn’t the right time.

“You, on the other hand, little Merile,” the gagargi says, turning on his heels, “have become of interest to me of late.”

Merile glances at her feet, but her dogs aren’t with us. There is no one to comfort her. I can but stand before her, teeth already aching from the eagerness of the spell, full of power I can use only once. I need to wait for the moment when the gagargi is, if not weak, then at least distracted.

Pray to Moon that there will be such a moment soon.

The gagargi slips his arms into the voluminous sleeves of his black robes. His fingers climb up his arms, shapes like colossal spiders under the wet fabric. Then he pulls his arms free, flourishing a scarlet scarf I instantly recognize.

“Mine,” Merile shrieks, reaching up to claim the scarf her seed once gave her, though the gagargi holds it too high for her to reach. “That’s mine, the scarf so fine!”

Captain Ansalov laughs. The gagargi doesn’t so much as glance at the soldier, and yet his displeasure is obvious. The two captains may have been allowed to remain in the room to witness my humiliation, to allow them to see how powerless I am despite my heritage. But they aren’t allowed to partake in it.

Captain Ansalov’s expression grows somber and sour as he realizes this.

“No, no, little Daughter of the Moon.” The gagargi closes his fist and the scarf disappears into the hollow formed by his bony fingers. “It is mine. A favor granted by me to the one who speaks in my name. I am by no means surprised to see him passing it onward to the daughter of his seed. But back, you shall not get it.”

The gagargi cranes over his shoulder at me, and the spell barges against my teeth so hard I fear they will shatter. There is no time to think, only to act. I press my hand against my mouth to prevent the spell from claiming uncontrolled freedom. Oh, the Moons be blessed, let the gagargi think that the night of Merile’s folly has returned to haunt me, that I am afraid of him harming my little sister and nothing more.

“He has been such a great asset to me. The people listen to his voice,” the gagargi says, twisting a knife in the wound he knows I bear in my heart. Even our seeds, the ones that are still alive, have deserted us. He is responsible for the death of mine. “But enough is enough, I think. Having spared you, I have now favored him twice.”

My dread is fuel for the spell that is growing ever so impatient. It forces my clenched teeth, my tight-pressed lips apart. I must clasp both hands over my mouth, bend my upper body down, to make it seem as if I were about to gag. The left corner of the gagargi’s lips twitches. He is satisfied, rather than suspicious.

“Great Gagargi Prataslav,” Elise chimes, and at that moment I don’t know if the reverence is a mere practiced tone or genuine. I don’t know my sister anymore. “You are the Gagargi of the People. Your kindness knows no limit.”

“Kindness,” the gagargi repeats slowly. Even if Elise’s intervention was an attempt to sway the gagargi to granting us, Merile, mercy, he isn’t a man capable of that. “Yes, I am kind. But I cannot be seen to favor any family over the others. Not even the one of celestial descent.”

And with this said, his full, intense attention falls on little Alina.

My stomach cramps as if my intestines were boiling, and I am no longer faking my nausea. A guttural hum rises inside me. I retch parts of the spell into my palms, swallow back what I can. It isn’t the time yet. Not yet!

“The youngest Daughter of the Moon.” Gagargi Prataslav pats Alina’s head, his long, skeletal fingers weaving into the gray-brown hair. “Still on her sixth year, is she not?”

Alina tenses and seems to shrink before my very eyes. I have never wanted anything as much as to rush to her, to hold her, but that I can’t do. Elise, Sibilia, and Merile turn to me, hesitant, concerned, and afraid, seeking guidance on what to do. I can’t provide them any, not when I am about to vomit out the spell that may not be enough to save us.

“Every family gives their every other child to fuel the greater benefit of the empire,” the gagargi says, the terrible words preceding a suggestion unfathomable. “Imagine how it looks to the people, when the imperial family refuses to follow this rule.”

It is clear to me now. He wants Alina’s soul, though it is deeply anchored to her body. That he shall not have, even if this will cost us older sisters dearly. I force my back straight, lower my arms to my sides. And curiously enough, now that I am about to set the spell free, it no longer fights against me.

“It lives in his shadow,” Alina whispers, filling the calm moment about to shatter. “It’s growing.”

The gagargi takes a step back and stares at his shadow, and with his gaze, with Alina’s words, everyone’s eyes are drawn to the black shape veiling the planks. This is the best I can hope for. I part my lips and release the spell.

“What do you see?” the gagargi asks, unaware of the threads of silver that coil through the air toward him. This spell will not be difficult to maintain once connected to a person, I know this from personal experience. But each word I want the gagargi to believe will drain more of my strength than the previous, both that which was bestowed on me by the Moon and that of my very soul.

“It’s growing bigger.” Alina hugs herself, her face paling as if she had not a drop of blood left in her veins. “There’s two of them…”

My spell reaches the gagargi at the exact same moment as my little sister falls limp on the floor. The gagargi swats his palm at the back of his head. Does he feel my spell?

“What is this?” the gagargi asks his two captains, as if they were to blame for this deviation from his plan, merely annoyed rather than suspicious.

“Alina!” Merile shrieks, kneeling by our sister. “Celestia, help!”

I dare not to move a step now that I am connected to the gagargi, and so I can but watch from aside. The good man, Captain Janlav, rushes to shelter little Alina from anyone who might think to hurt her more. He gathers her into his arms, holds her against his chest. “It’s all right. She’s alive. She’s breathing.”

“Alina!” Merile cries as Sibilia pulls her up from the floor. Elise stands as if frozen, so far apart from our younger sisters. I pray the Moon our youngest sister has merely fainted from fright, nothing more.

The gagargi sighs, shaking his head at the scene, and I feel the thread connecting us pulsing. I sense that he got what he needed. My sisters are terrified. He thinks that they have lost faith in me. The two captains have seen us weak and wailing. “Captain Janlav, take them away, will you? They are of no more use to me.”

The gagargi lies, for this isn’t the case. But I am relieved as Captain Janlav carries little Alina out, as my sisters follow behind him, leaving me alone with the two most frightening men I know. If it weren’t for the spell, the nights soaking in my father’s light, this one and only chance I have to save my sisters, I would follow my swan-self’s suggestion and flee the room regardless of the consequences.

Boots is already drawing the door closed when the gagargi adds, “Captain Ansalov, you can return to your duties.”

This I didn’t expect, and the lack of knowing the gagargi’s reasoning behind this sudden decision unnerves me. The line of Captain Ansalov’s jaw tightens, but he is a soldier too experienced to disagree. He simply salutes and strides out. I am glad to see him go, but also terrified of remaining alone with the man who stole my soul once already.

When only the gagargi and I are left in the dining room, his demeanor changes. He spreads his arms wide, as if welcoming me into his arms. There is still no sign of a spell, and yet his words are ominous beyond comparison. “It would be futile of you to try and resist.”

Even with my spell latched to him, doubt nags my resolve. The gagargi masters his dark art. He has decades of practice and studies behind him. What chance do I stand against him? There is only one way to find out: to do the exact opposite of what he told me, to resist him for as long as I can.

“We might as well start.” The gagargi chuckles, and when he finally pronounces the glyph of his own, I am appeased, but only for a moment. For I know that though his violence will not leave behind bruises, he will take pleasure in breaking me. He wants to, needs to take over my mind. He needs to leave this room believing he has achieved this. That is the only way I can save my sisters. “You do know, the less you resist, the easier it will be for you. Think about it, Celestia. Would it really be so terrible for you to simply enjoy my company? Once upon a time you did cherish my touch.”

I gasp as the spell lashes against my face, half of it for show, the other half from genuine shock at how difficult it is to keep him out of my mind, even when prepared for the attack. The gagargi strolls to me in a leisurely pace, dripping water. I stand still as he reaches out to fondle the back of my neck, his breath so close I can smell his hunger, not a morsel devoured, not a drop drunk to quench his thirst. “You will stand by my side.”

I dare not to move, not to breathe. Regardless of what I told myself before, I am not whole. I will never be whole. But my spell is still attached to him. If Sibilia is right, the gagargi will think my words his own. Yet I must be mindful of them. I will not have strength to make him believe many.

“Stand by my side.” The gagargi lifts his hand to draw a circle on my forehead as he has done before. His spell intensifies. I feel it pushing through my skin. I wonder, does the same principle apply to him? Does he have only a limited supply of ideas he can press on me? Is that why he ordered the two captains to leave? “Before our people.”

“The ceremony,” I whisper. Him being closer… Him being closer makes it easier for me, too, to wield my spell. My confidence grows. My words hold my father’s power and his do not. I press my will on him through the threads connecting us. “You will send for me.”

For even if I want nothing as much as to leave this house right at this moment, this encounter will leave me drained. I am not yet married to the Moon. My sisters and I, we need more time, not only to plan but to start trusting each other again. I don’t know if a month will be enough, but that is the best I can do.

“Send for you?” The gagargi blinks, shakes his head, but I am almost sure he doesn’t realize the form my resistance has taken. Indeed, his next words, the cruel smile, confirm this. “I will send for you.”

He thinks it his idea. The spell is truly working. But my expression must not betray how I rejoice over this small victory. Not when the battle itself remains yet unfought.

“In the ceremony, the imperial family will show example,” he continues, and I know what he means without him saying it aloud. It is an idea too horrifying for me to voice.

“Show example,” I repeat, and I think it is out of my own initiative, not his. The gagargi wants Alina, though she is almost seven already. He wants to extract her soul before the gathered crowd and feed it to the machine. He will not give up on her before his will comes to pass. I speak four more valuable words. “Hand over her soul.”

“Hand over her soul?” The gagargi considers this for a moment. He knows my little sister is weak of mind, has seen it with his own eyes now. Potions don’t work on her, and the guards will confirm this. She isn’t fit for a public appearance, and extracting a crying child’s soul before the crowd wouldn’t be the best of propaganda.

“Hand over her soul,” I repeat, and will him to draw the right conclusion. Let him want me to present a soul bead and feed it myself to the machine. When that day comes, the bead will not contain Alina’s soul, but that of some other unfortunate person.

The gagargi’s gaze sharpens. “Celestia…”

His spell only builds up while I feel mine already waning. Sibilia did warn me that the power charged on me would drain out all of a sudden. I don’t dare to spend more on reinforcing my idea when there is still more I need to accomplish.

“You are very important to me,” he says, and his words sink in. I am important. I have always known that I am important while my sisters are not. No, that is of his doing, something he wants me to believe toward his own myriad ends.

“You will send for me,” I repeat, focusing my fast-fading spell on the one last idea that I must imprint onto the gagargi’s mind. “You will send for my sis—”

The spell that ties the gagargi to me snaps mid-word, and I recoil from… not pain, but absence of power, that of my father is all gone. Desperate, I attempt to pronounce the glyph again, the litany of consonants, even if the resulting spell will be powered by my own soul.

The glyph refuses to take shape. It’s a mindless, arcane thing. It doesn’t care about my desperation, doesn’t care that crucial words remain yet to be said.

“I will send for…” the gagargi muses, rubbing the back of his head as if he had a headache.

“For my sisters,” I whisper, praying the Moon my mere voice will be enough. The only way I can ensure their safety is for us to stay together. But my words lack power now. “My sisters.”

“It is agreed then, dearest Celestia.” The gagargi nods, oddly satisfied, as if he had what he came for at last. “I shall send for you in time for the ceremony. You may bring one of your sisters with you.”