Chapter 1. Parting (Fiora).

My mother always told us – my sister and me – that we were beautiful. Maybe this was because every mother thinks her children to be the most beautiful creature in existence. Maybe it was because of both our parents' look. Though, honestly, I have never seen my father. But whenever I or Fabiola asked mother about him, her eyes suddenly turned dreamy. So I take it that he was charming, at least.

Either way, that was the thing we've been learning to exploit since childhood. I can't say we were rich – but it was enough for us not to starve, though we barely had enough money. Our mother was a courtesan, and I guess that pretty much explains why we'd never met our father.

And one day Fabiola just sit near me and told: 'I can't watch this any longer. We must help mum'. And I don't know what I was thinking but I agreed.

When I say 'I don't know what I was thinking', I don't mean I didn't want to help. I wanted to, I really wanted to. But what can a girl do in a large city, as was Rome, on her own?

The answer came out easy – steal. Grown up on the streets of Rome, we could run pretty fast – at least faster than the guards in their heavy glistening – and expensive – armour. So we just were choosing traders on the market at random and stealing from them. Well, not quite at random. They had to be man, you see, so one of us could distract him, while the other grabbed however much she could carry and disappeared from the sight.

Playing a lost girl proved to be not that difficult after all.

We had such a life – stealing, running around the city – until we were fifteen. I didn't count the days, but our mom was. Each our birthday she made a special dinner and it was the only day we were allowed candies. It was the only day we could afford it, at least. And even for that we've been saving for the whole year.

And each birthday our mum said the same words: 'You do not deserve a life like this. You're obviously made for a better one, with your beauty and sharp mind'.

It was quite funny to hear her saying about our 'sharp mind'. But considering that we were never once caught, maybe she was right. I never could quite praise myself, and neither could Fabiola.

These talks started boring me, though. And each following day we were returning to the same life, again and again.

Until the day we were finally caught stealing.

Well, 'caught' is not quite a word. Everything was as usual, I was distracting the fat trader (I really felt I was going to puke from the look he was giving me), Fabiola was the one stealing. When she disappeared at the end of the street, I mockingly bowed to the trader and took off running in the opposite direction.

We reunited on our run not so far from our home, laughing, lungs aching from the lack of air because of running. And suddenly Fabiola crashed into a man at full speed.

'Well, well, well', he said, 'What do we have here?'

I ran back to Fabiola.

'Stealing?'

Fabiola clenched her fists. 'No, no, noble man…'

The man smiled and knelt before her. It seemed like he wasn't dangerous. 'I'm not going to scold you, little girl. What is your name? Where do you live?'

'Don't you dare!' I screamed and clenched my fists as well. I made a mistake, a huge one. He was going to turn us in, it was so obvious. 'Don't you touch us!'

He gave me a strange look. 'I want to talk to your parents and offer them something. Look, I mean no harm. I can even dismiss my guardian'. He exchanged a few words with his companion, and his escort disappeared from view.

Maybe he could be trusted after all. But should something happen, I knew I could severely harm him. I'm fast.

We led him to our home. Our mother opened the door, expecting us and suddenly turned very pale when she saw that we had 'a guest'. A very noble guest, judging from his appearance.

After not so long talk we found out that this man was indeed a noble. A sheikh, or something like that – I have little knowledge of overseas titles. He also told us that he wished to see Fabiola by his side as his wife. Mother started saying something about us being very poor and unable to provide anything with Fabiola, but the sheikh only laughed it off and said that it was not our concern, but his and gave ridicule full of gold coins to my mum. I guess it was the argument that persuaded her he was able to give Fabiola better life.

He was to collect her in five days. My sister was both sad and happy and tried to spend as much time with us as she could. When the time came, she told me:

'Don't cry, Fiora. We'll definitely see each other again. Remember what our mum says: we are beautiful and we were made for a better life. I bet a noble Italian will notice you in no time and we'll meet again on some talks between Italia and my husband's country. Promise?', with this words she outstretched her little finger to me and I held to it and answered, 'Promise'.

Watching her kissing our mother goodbye I realized: I am genuinely happy for her. She has always been the closest one to me and I really loved my sister. You know, not with that kind of sister love when, on the one hand, you wish the best to your sibling and you suffer without her, but in the same time you know that there is no place in this world for the both of you. It's like a neverending fight, with yourself and with your sister.

Fabiola hugged both me and our mother for one last time and disappeared in the carriage.

It was the last time I ever saw her.