Neither of them is sure how to start, but Bitterblue tries not to let that stop them. She makes time for Hava, fitting her into her days and her heart slowly, little by little. She would never have wished her father upon any other soul, but she has Hava despite that, so she will gladly take what she can get.
Hava is unsure, at first. She flickers between herself and other faces, feeling small and unfit to be in the Lady Queen's rooms. She refuses to call her by name; it is too grand and self-important. They speak of little, meaningless things: the tea, the bread, the jam.
She is surprised that the Lady Queen kneads bread herself, these days. Hava knows how to make jam.
They explore gardens, together, when spring comes. The palace has many, but the city has even more, and Hava knows them all. Surrounded by flowers, Hava relearns letters, then words, and then whole worlds that erupt behind her eyelids like magic, like some benevolent Grace where she really could be anyone.
For her birthday, at the end of summer, the Lady Queen hands her a small book, filled with illustrations that remind her of nothing so much as her mother's statues, and stories that make her heart swell and sing with joy. There is a cake, which she made for Hava herself. They are surrounded by rosebushes and quiet.
"Happy Birthday, Hava. I hope they are all happy from now on."
Hava throws her arms around her, laughing and crying all at once. "Oh, Bitterblue." It is the first time she has used her name, and Bitterblue understands what she means.
Oh, sister.