Tyta helps little Roslin into her dress, both with tears streaming down their cheeks. "Remember to smile," the older sister says, "and you needn't fear what is to follow." Out of all her sisters she loves Roslin best, because they are most alike in appearance and in comport. "Just close your eyes and go far away in your mind."
"I don't want to do this," the younger sobs, crumpling the fine silk of her skirts. Neither does Tyta but their father has spoken, and they are powerless to stop him, least they cost their brothers their lives.
Hugging Roslin to her, Tyta tries to offer some comfort. Maybe the Gods will take pity and help them. Although Tyta is sceptical, for the Gods have stopped listening to their prayers a long time ago. But she'll try either way for Roslin and her happiness. "I shall pray to the Maiden and to the Mother for you."
"Best pray for yourself girl," Wader Frey says, standing in the doorway. "I've come to see that you are ready." This time he speaks to Roslin. "Leave us. I'll speak with your sister alone."
Father has always hated her, Tyta thinks. Not because her mother died birthing her, and certainly not for her love of books and learning, but for her uselessness. Tyta the Maid, they call her. She's never been married, so naturally she's brought little to her family. But Tyta has been loved and this she refuses to share with the rest of them, save Roslin whom she loves as her own.
In truth Tyta is no maid. She loved a silver haired man, with a white cloak and a sword of stars. And though she has nothing of him to hold, she holds him in her heart, safely hidden among her memories.