To Thalia, Kayra's life had always seemed effortless. Back when both sisters had taken their meals with Simay, Thalia used to watch as Kayra easily commanded their mother's attention. Drunk as she was, Simay never failed to dote on her perfect daughter— a caress on the cheek, soft words of encouragement. Those were things only Kayra received. Thalia simply stared, envy burrowing its way deeper into her chest with each dinner.
Crash!
Simay rose abruptly, supporting her unsteady weight by leaning on the table. "If you had just sat still like I told you to—"
"Mother, she's a child." Kayra set down her fork, her voice carrying a hint of warning. "I beg of you, extend to her the same patience you did to me at her age."
"I can't deal with this." Simay ran her fingers anxiously through her hair. "Where is the nanny?"
"She's taken ill, Mother."
Thalia sat frozen, her broken glass shattered on the floor. This was the object that had earned her mother's ire. When reaching for a piece of bread from a bowl in the middle of the table, Thalia had knocked it over. As the shock wore off, nausea and dread took its place. Her small hands gripped her linen dress tightly as she braced herself for punishment.
"This damn palace!" Simay shouted. "Can Hypatos not afford a replacement? I didn't even want her. Why do I have to—"
Thalia's wailing cut her off. Her mother was angry and it was her fault. Why did she have to be so clumsy?
"Mother, I—" I'm sorry. Please stop yelling. Thalia couldn't finish her sentence. She couldn't breathe. Her lungs pulled in sharp bursts of air and expelled them just as quickly. She didn't know how to stop it. Why couldn't she stop it?
"Shut up, shut up!" Thalia's mother covered her ears, tears streaming down her face. "Someone shut her up!"
"Thalia." Kneeling in front of her, Kayra's hands landed on Thalia's heaving shoulders. She took in another wailing gasp. "Thalia, focus on my voice. Don't pay attention to Mother. She's drunk. She doesn't know what she's saying. I need you to take deep breaths. Come on. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out."
Thalia followed the rhythm of her sister's voice, breathing deeply in through her nose and out through her mouth.
"Breath in. Breath out."
Slowly, she regained control of her lungs. Her anxieties about being yelled at and punished melted away. Punishments were only temporary. She could handle it. When she had calmed down, Kayra wiped a tear from her eyes and smiled.
"That's a good girl. Princesses don't cry."
Nodding, Thalia squeezed her eyes shut. She lowered herself to the floor, calmly picking up the pieces. It made sense to her. When something was broken, she had to put it back together. It would fix everything.
"Thalia, no!"
"Ow!" Kayra's admonition startled Thalia. who sliced her finger on a shard of glass.
Kayra's hands wrapped under Thalia's armpits, dragging her back roughly from the mess. "What were you thinking? There are maids to clean up messes. You're a princess."
Thalia wriggled around, tears forming back in her eyes. "I just thought… if I put it back together, Mother would be happy again. She might love me like she loves you…"
Shaking her head, Kayra gave her a sad smile.
"There's no fixing what's broken. This glass will never be good for anything but hurting people. Forget about mother. Forget about the glass. Your remorse is not a strength; it is a weakness that can get you killed. There are people waiting to tear you down, and the only way to survive is to tear them down first. You can't do that if you let guilt control you. Do you understand?"
Thalia stared at the mess, then back at her sister. "I don't know if I want to be like that. I don't want to hurt anyone."
"You don't have a choice. I won't always be around to protect you." Kayra stroked Thalia's hair soothingly. "I'm sorry, love. I'm sorry that this is the lot you were born with."
Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out.
At her mother's family estate, Thalia kept her eyes firmly planted on her face in the mirror as Sappho pinned dozens of jewels and ornaments into her hair. Being here was strange. On the sofa in the corner, she had thrown a tantrum over a gift meant for someone else. At the desk behind her, she had studied late into the night until her grandmother caught and scolded her. In front of this very mirror, she had been dressed to visit Serendine for their playdates. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes as a sense of nostalgia washed over her. She had forgotten how she loved her grandmother's cooking, how the house went quiet when Kayra sang, how one of the servants occasionally snuck her extra treats after dinner.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out.
Princesses don't cry.
Thalia gripped the edge of the vanity, conscious of the fact that if she did the same to her dress, as she usually would, the fabric would wrinkle. She had yet to reunite with Kayra— a servant had met her and Sappho at the port to escort them to the estate— but she wanted to look her best when she did. Back in her childhood, the maids used to whisper their lamentations that Thalia wasn't more like Kayra when they thought she couldn't hear. Thalia had never scolded them. After all, she used to wonder the same thing.
When she stepped into the ballroom tonight, though, she would be the epitome of grace. She would stand before her Parthevian sister with the olive skin and amethyst eyes she had inherited from a race Kayra had insisted were inferior, and she would show her that they were equals. Thalia was no longer a clumsy child. She had grown into a woman, and she was engaged to one of the most powerful men on the planet. She even had a magi on her side. There was no reason to worry.
Sappho smiled at her in the mirror, resting her chin on her shoulder. "Hold your head high, Princess. Tonight, you will go walk among our oppressors in the garb of our people, and they will see the face of those they have caused to suffer. You will remind them that they have taken what is not theirs. Tonight, you are not yourself. You are Attica."
Thalia nodded resolutely. "If I can win over the support of the Parthevian elite, it will be easier to get them to agree to peace negotiations later. They'll never give up control without a fight, but when it comes time to draw a treaty, it will benefit us to have their good will."
Perhaps Thalia didn't have much of an education on war, but she had clawed her way out of a powerless situation before. She had once commanded roaring crowds and navigated precarious situations daily. Convincing a few nobles that her cause was sympathetic enough to support would be easy.
"You can do this," Sappho said.
"Yes," Thalia agreed. She finally understood Muu's words. Destiny had a way of righting itself, and everything she had been through had brought her to this moment. The skills she had picked up as a slave were the skills she needed to take back a country. Her friends had tried to save her, to mold her into someone "good," but goodness had never been a part of her fate. Good and evil, such things were the stuff of fairytales. There was only the path set out for her and depravity. Honesty and consideration for others would not win her country back. Kindness was her depravity.
Nasha had been right. She was like him. She was like Lady Maader, and denying that was denying her strength.
"I can do this."
This was the second time Sinbad had been to Kayra's estate, but this time, he was not here to see the owner. He was waiting for his friend. At the bottom of the central staircase, he tapped his foot impatiently. Barbarossa's rise to power meant that he would soon hear news about his own country. The realization of his dream was close at hand, but he didn't know how close. Would he hear the news tonight? Tomorrow? Three weeks from now? Tugging at his hair, he groaned and began to pace. It was enough to drive him crazy.
"Please do not wear a hole in Lady Kayra's carpet." Sappho leaned over the banister, her lips twitching upward in a wry smile. "There's no need to be impatient. Thalia will be down in a moment, and I'm sure the money to replace it would be better spent elsewhere."
Sinbad scratched his scalp sheepishly. "Oh… I wasn't thinking about Thalia. I have my own things to worry about."
"Then perhaps this is a bad time." Sappho wound her way down the staircase. "However, it can't wait. The princess trusts your judgment, and I trust hers. Therefore, I would like to approach you about a matter that I'm reluctant to discuss with her before consulting someone with whom she is a bit more… intimate."
Sinbad raised his eyebrows. "Intimate?"
"Anyone with eyes would know you two have a history." She stopped in front of him, folding her arms over her chest. "She's not subtle, and you don't try to be."
"That's fair," he conceded. Even when Thalia wasn't talking to him, she'd made little effort to hide her feelings on the ship, and he had flirted with her shamelessly. "So, what's this about?"
"You've noticed she's been acting strangely since returning to Attica, I'm sure."
"This is about what happened in the temple." He sighed. "Ja'far filled me in on everything he knows already. Until she's willing to talk, I don't think we—"
"Everything he knows, yes." Sappho nodded. "There was a piece of information Amaltheia and I have been sitting on. Before I made any accusations, I wanted to be absolutely sure it was the case… Now I have evidence." Pulling a book out of her himation, she handed it to him. "She was drugged."
"Drugged?" Sinbad drew in a deep breath. "Then, it should be out of her system by now, right? Why hasn't she returned to normal?"
"The ritual she was supposed to undergo was nothing more than a symbolic cleansing, but she was showing signs of coming down from a merosh overdose when she came back to us."
Sinbad ran his fingers over the leather binding of the tome before opening to look at its contents. He didn't recognize these letters, but he'd noticed Thalia often wrote in them when she wanted to keep something private.
"It has long been known among our people that the merosh flower can relax the body and induce sleep. In low doses, it has been used as a sleeping aid for centuries. In higher doses, it can cause vivid dreams, ones that are often mistaken for visions. The 'indoctrination ritual' listed in this book is a late addition. The language is less archaic than the earlier entries, and it uses a combination of refined merosh and incantations to guide the induced dream. The book claims it can facilitate communion with the goddess, but…"
"She thinks she had a vision." Sinbad closed the book, his blood running cold. "It would explain her sudden conviction in a goddess she never believed in before."
"Her state of mind when she was put under would affect the nature of her dream. At first, it would be pleasant from the high of the merosh, but as it wore off, if she were feeling something like fear or guilt, it would be magnified in a nightmare. Given her history with the temple itself, it's not surprising she would be feeling guilt and fear."
Sinbad looked up from the book, returning his gaze to Sappho. "Why would you come to me first? Don't you think she deserves to know?"
Sappho cast her eyes to the ground. "The princess is as stubborn as she is afraid. No matter what she says, I do not believe we are equals. She will always be the woman who should have been my queen, but she views you as a king. If it came from you, I think she would accept it."
Sinbad handed the book back to her. "I think you're underestimating her esteem for you, but you're right about her stubbornness. I'll talk to her tonight, after the party. We don't know how she'll react, but I don't think it would be right to spring something on her so suddenly before she meets her sister again."
"Thank you, Sinbad." Backing away, Sappho bowed. "I believe you will be a wise king."
"I'm ready! Sappho, where did you go- oh!" As Sappho discreetly hid the book back in her himation, Thalia peered down at them from above. "I didn't realize my escort had already arrived."
"Then, you'll excuse me." Sappho backed away, bowing her way out of the room.
Princess Thalia Alexandris. Sinbad's heart squeezed tightly in his chest as the slave girl he had met three years ago wound her way down the central staircase dripping with dazzling jewels. They caught the light of the setting sun, glittering as they swayed with each willowy step. It struck him that the gods in her stories could never exist. Surely if they did, she would have been spirited away by now as one of their brides. The fact that someone like her would even look at someone like him… how was that even possible? He was just a low-born fisherman, and she was…
"Thalia." His voice came out thin from his dry throat as he held out his hand to her. He wasn't normally one to find women or royalty intimidating, but the more silks and jewels she put on, the further away she felt. His Thalia looked radiant in whatever cheap frock she picked up off the street and thought her teal shawl was the height of fashion. But, when her eyes rose and met his unflinchingly, her shoulders held back with the confidence that had been beaten out of her in her slave days, he suddenly wasn't sure if his Thalia had ever been the "real" Thalia, flawed or not. Perhaps the version of her he had known had been born of a necessity to survive. She had slid into the role of a royal so quickly, he wasn't sure which was the lie anymore.
Her lips pulled up in a demure smile. Placing her hand in his, she tugged it away before he could kiss it. Of course. If she couldn't talk to him, lip to hand contact was probably something reserved for the bedroom in Attica. Tonight, he would tell her the truth about her vision, but until then, he would simply have to endure her silence. It was a good thing he liked the sound of his own voice.
"This won't work." He shook his head playfully, trying to channel the easy familiarity that they usually shared. "Thalia, you're going to draw way too much attention. It's not fair to the other girls." Her eyebrows shot up skeptically as if to dare him to criticize her clothing again. He chuckled, bringing his hand up to caress a dangling earring. "I won't be able to take my eyes off you."
Her breath caught, and a flush worked its way across her cheeks. There it was, the reassurance he needed. No matter how blue her blood ran, her heart beat for him. It was amazing how much she could say without opening her mouth.
"Come on, Thalia. Our carriage awaits."
She nodded, marching stiffly ahead of him, her shoulders held tense. Sinbad let her lead the way, fighting back a smile. Suddenly, it didn't matter which version of Thalia was the real one. Every facet of her he uncovered was something new to adore, and every one of them loved him.
Pushing his hair back, he let out a quiet, nervous laugh. He couldn't return her feelings, not the way she deserved. He had too much responsibility riding on his shoulders with the company and founding a country. He couldn't live without her either, and she was miserable without him.
An uneasiness settled in his stomach as he sat in silence across from her in the dark carriage. The driver took off, and he watched the glint of her swinging earrings. Despite the lavish cushions of the seats, the ride was silent and uncomfortable. It felt wrong sitting on the information Sappho had entrusted him with. The dower frown on her painted lips, the far-off look in her eyes, the tears that threatened to fall— he had the ability to rid her of them right now, but there was also the chance she wouldn't react well. She was looking forward to meeting her sister again, and with one of the people she blamed for the fall of her country being the host of the party, he couldn't risk unsettling her.
"Thalia."
The silence had grown oppressive until he could no longer stand it. He needed to hear her voice because however much he tried to ignore it, he couldn't stop the thoughts tumbling around in his head. He was gaining a country. He was losing her. He was protecting her by keeping silent, or maybe he was betraying her. He didn't know what he was doing, not anymore. The waves were unsettled, tugging him in a thousand directions. Nothing felt right around her, but it felt good.
"You can speak around male family members, right?" It was nothing but a flimsy excuse to get her to talk, but he had to try. "In that case, I'm the closest thing you have to a brother, so it should be fine."
He had expected to be met with silence, but to his surprise, she answered him directly.
"You are nothing like a brother to me." She turned her gaze from the window toward him. "Don't say such foolish things."
"If it means you'll talk to me, I'll say it again."
"It's precisely because I don't see you as a brother that I can't…" She looked away.
"You can't what?" Sinbad leaned forward. "Talk to your best friend?"
She pursed her lips, staring out the window.
"You don't have to worry about that anymore, Thalia."
She shot him an incredulous glance, her posture straightening.
"I'll explain later tonight," he assured her, "but until then… please. Trust me."
A/N: I'm not sure if Thalia's development here feels like it's coming out of nowhere, but I've been trying pretty hard to lead up to it. One day, I'll rewrite this and fix a lot of the flaws. Please forgive me ^^ The first draft always sucks.