On the 112th year of the third era in the month of April, a second girl child was born to the Linh family. Being destitute, the family although wishing to celebrate her birth publicly, simply had a private celebration in their home with what little meager food they could muster. The invited relations declined their request to join, not wanting to pay fees for a journey to see a brat they deemed useless.
But while his wife may have cared, he did not. He simply reflected on the more small, quiet joys of ice this child would bring her—something no amount of birth celebrations or money would bring. His wife, on the other hand, had complained for days after, relentlessly asking him why he did not strive harder to earn respect and money. The only sign she showed of forgiveness came a few days later.
A peony tree grew outside their window. April was always the month it bloomed; he and Adri had not paid it much attention before. But now she approached the window. Her eyes had gone soft.
"Peony?" She whispered. Her hard expression had softened with something akin to love, something that had realized the worth, if not monetary, of the wonder she had created, for the first time in days.
"Yes, love," he replied. "They bloom every year."
"No," she replied. "I mean our daughter. Peony is a nice name, don't you think?"
He had readily agreed—not only because he didn't have the first idea of another name, but because he was glad to see that his wife was finally beginning to care for the girl. Her daughter.
Their daughter.
Linh Garan sighed at this mental flashback of the day; imprints burned into his memory as if he were watching as someone else. That had been many moons ago. Now, some four years later his daughter—his Peony—played in the sitting room, her older sister pulling faces to make her giggle. She was a bubbly child and one of his greatest joys.
She was a pretty child, there was no doubt about that. Adri talked about it when Garan didn't, always something along the lines ofShe'll have no problems finding a husband.
He would smile and kiss her forehead in response, telling her that there were many years to go before she would have to concern herself with this.
Garan did not share his fear that he may not live all of those years through.
"Daddy?"
Garan lifted his head from the work-desk, his vision finding his seven-year-old daughter standing with a pout puckering her pink lips.
She was still wearing a school bag and her hair in pigtails, rumpled from her return from school. Normally, Garan was not good at reading emotions, but it would be obvious to even the most hard-hearted person that Peony was in no small amount of distress.
"What's wrong, darling?"
She dumped her school bag on the floor, her face scrunched with the effort not to cry. "Zhang Xiu said I have no friends."
Garan awkwardly patted her back. He had heard many stories about this Xiu, from overhearing Peony complain to her mother and sister. They hadn't seemed to care much, Pearl barely looking up from her portscreen. He'd never taken much action himself, because he had no idea what to do about these girly problems, to be honest. But he'd often heard that they wanted to be comforted, not have reassurance that everything would be alright. So he gently patted her back, cooing, "There, there..."
He suppressed a sigh of relief when Peony sniffed and swallowed her tears.
But now she looked up, eyes bright with hope. "Ba, you could make me a friend, couldn't you?"
"What?" He couldn't help wishing she'd kept crying in search of comfort, rather than demanding the impossible now.
"You make a lot of things," said Peony, her eyes still shining with hope. "Make me a friend?"
Garan opened his mouth, hating to extinguish the hope he saw in her eyes, but then he remembered.
An android his wife had bought.
Programming error.
It did sound like a stupid idea, but then androids couldn't die. They couldn't leave you.
His daughter would have the most loyal friend the world had ever seen.
The familiar itch began behind his fingers, a sign that he was set on the fantasy. The idea he could bring to life.
He pulled her into a hug. "You bet I can."
Peony gracefully took the prince's hand in hers, a smile touching her lips. "It would be my honor to dance with you, Your Highness."
They swayed slightly around the room, ignoring that the 'prince' was in fact an android two feet shorter than she was and that she had to crouch to make it feel even a little romantic. Peony knew that this was probably the closest she would come to dancing with him, so she wasn't complaining. She and Iko had been doing this for a year.
And yet, she couldn't chase away the fantasy that maybe...someday...
She swallowed. She could not make Iko feel inadequate.
It had been a year since Iko came. Well, more like since her father had programmed her.
Peony tried hard not to think about that part.
As the dance ended, Iko gripped Peony's hand in her three prongs and pressed them to her sensor in imitation of a kiss. "It was an honor to dance with you."
"The honor is all mine," she purred, attempting to imitate the seductive tone of her older sister.
Iko's sensor flashed. "Eww, you sound like Pearl."
Peony giggled. "I know! That's the point!"
Iko took a moment to see the humor, but then conceded a laugh sound effect she had downloaded.
Peony sighed with melancholy. "Oh, if I could go to the ball..."
"You'll get to in a few years," Iko said. Peony almost heard the whine in her robotic tone. "I will never."
"Yes, but..." Peony grabbed her portscreen, flicking it on to her welcome screen.
"Hello, Peony," the boy's voice said. Peony melted at hearing the intonations she had memorized.
Iko flicked her with a prong. "You're down bad."
Ignoring her, Peony opened up the album filled with pictures of him, content to stare at the face for days.
Iko wheeled beside her, understanding what they were to do for the next few hours without any words.
"So...Iko has to go?" Peony asked softly.
Garan nodded. "I'm sorry, child."
"I'mnot," Pearl called from the other room. "That android is an annoyance."
"Shut up!" Peony yelled. "You would know about annoyances."
"Girls!" Garan spread his arms. "Maybe she'll come back one day. Who knows? And-" He hesitated. "Maybe you'll have a new friend coming soon."
Hope fluttered in her chest.
Maybe-
She shut down her thoughts, ashamed of their nature. She and Iko had been best friends for a year and a half. She couldn't just replace her.
But she could say goodbye.
"Okay," she said, resigned to her fate. "Just...let me say bye."
Iko returned, at the hands of Peony's new friend-or stepsister.
A year more had gone by, Cinder arriving at her door. Peony's new friend. Peony's new friend, who brought back an old one.
Peony smiled at this thought. She hadn't lost, but gained. The world would not take from her.
Peony had been wrong.
The world could take from her.
She didn't remember much of that day—the screams and tears had all merged into one unfathomable monster.
She did remember how her father—herfather—had asked Adri to take care of her stepsister.
Cinder.
Were she and Pearl not his daughters? Did he not care for them?
She barely remembered Cinder pressed against the doorframe—as if she'd never been there.
Maybe she could pretend that Dad was fine. He was fine.
He did not have the plague and he was not dying and-
"You can't leave me. Not by myself, not with this..thisthing!"
Her mother's voice snapped her out of it. Glancing back to where Cinder was shivering at the door through the corner of her eye, she felt a twinge of regret.
She clearly didn't remember what it was like to be loved.
She didn't know where she belonged, either. Neither human nor robot, neither family nor stranger.
And suddenly—with the force of a meteor crashing to Earth—she knew what she needed to do.
She would honor her father's last wish.
If her mother refused to take care of her stepsister, then she would.
"So? What was he like?" Peony said, hurrying after her stepsister.
She was going to strangle her.
As ifanythingwere a good enough excuse to explain why she hadn't called her.
The prince!
"I don't know," said Cinder, seemingly disinterested. But Peony could see through the act—thought she could see the awe laced through the bored tones. "Ah, good, it hasn't been scavenged."
"He was polite enough not to point out the giant grease stain on her forehead," Iko added helpfully.
Peony gasped. "Oh, you didn't!" She couldn't help worrying about the terrible first impression her sister had made.
"What? I'm a mechanic. I get dirty. If he wanted me to get all gussied up, he should have commed ahead. Iko, I could use some light in here." Cinder's deflective words didn't match the hollow in her cheek. She was no doubt chewing on the flesh there.
Peony clucked her tongue. They couldn't have that. "Maybe he thought it was a mole?"
"That makes me feel much better."
"Is he as handsome in real life as he looks on the netscreens?" Peony asked, getting to the important questions.
"Yes," said Iko. "Even more handsome. And awful tall."
"Everyone's tall to you." said Peony, already knowing what Iko's opinion would. "And I want to hear Cinder's opinion."
This would be interesting.
Cinder suddenly stopped poking. An unfathomable expression crossed her face—something akin to awe, admiration and longing.
She shrieked. "I knew it! I knew you liked him too! I can't believe you actually met him! It's not fair. Did I mention how much I hate you?"
"Yes, yes, I know," said Cinder, back to deflecting as she attempted to pull Peony off her. "Now go be giddy somewhere else. I'm trying to work."
Back and forth they went, Peony demanding answers and Cinder rolling her eyes in response. She knew Cinder wasn't the world's most romantic person. But maybe this encounter with the prince would have changed that.
"You know, some people are saying he's going to be looking for a bride at the ball." She couldn't keep it contained, wanting to see if Cinder would react.
"A bride!" said Iko, with every bot of the expected enthusiasm. "How romantic."
But Cinder, disinterested as always, pulled out a flashlight. Peony's stomach withered in disappointment. She didn't seem the least bit intrigued, or even jealous. "Hand me that wrench again?"
Peony frowned. Maybe she had misheard. "Didn't you hear me? A bride, Cinder. As in, a princess."
"As in, not going to happen. He's only, what? Nineteen?"
"Eighteen and a half," said Peony. "And it's true. All the gossip links are saying so." Well, half of them were.
Cinder grunted, clearly unconvinced.
"I would marry Prince Kai in a heartbeat." As if she didn't already profess her love twenty times a day.
"Me too," said Iko.
"You and every other girl in the Commonwealth," replied Cinder, the hypocrite
"Like you wouldn't," said Peony.
She didn't deny it.
Peony's mind drifted off as they scavenged for spare parts worth collecting, reeling from the promises Cinder had made would meet the prince and go to the ball and dance with him and-
And she remembered the other rumors.
Queen Levana and Prince Kai: Love? Marriage alliance with Luna suspected by offhand comments by EC officials.
"Besides," said Peony, slipping on a would-be casual tone, "the rumor that he's looking for a bride at the ball is a lot better than what the other rumors are saying." She gagged every time she thought of it.
Cinder looked bored. "Let me guess. Prince Kai is actually a martian? Or no, no—he had an illegitimate child with an escort, didn't he?"
"Escort-droids can havechildren?" She asked, momentarily distracted.
"No."
Peony huffed, blowing a curl off her brow. "Well, this is even worse. They say there's been talk of him marrying…" She dropped her voice dramatically, the way they did during school gossip sessions. "Queen Levana."
"Queen—" Cinder froze, clapping a hand over her mouth like a shocked member of the audience as if she expected Her Majesty herself to come out. "Honestly, Peony. Those tabloids are going to rot your brain."
"I don't want to believe it either, but they're all saying it. That's why the queen's witchy ambassador has been staying at the palace, so she can secure an alliance. It's all very political." She said this all like she even had a clue what she was talking about.
"I don't think so. Prince Kai would never marry her." Oh well, Cinder wasn't exactly very knowledgeable about that either.
"You don't know that."
Cinder appeared lost in thought, gazing at the moon with an unreadable look on her face.
But the conversation ended when they found a gasoline car, Cinder determined to take it home. Peony and Iko were less so, considering how unbelievably ugly it was for a car.
Honestly. Second-era people had notaste.
Then a rat crawled from the window.
Peony screamed, not caring who heard. She'd be glad if someone did hear, so they could save her.
Cinder hit her head as she jerked back up. "Peony, what?"
A rat just came out of the window! A big hairy fat one. Oh, gross."
Cinder groaned. "It must have been nesting in the upholstery. We probably scared it."
"Wescaredit?Can we go now, please?" She shuddered, not wanting to think of the beasts who had made a home there.
Cinder agreed, but she examined the car one last time, trying to determine whether or not they should push it home and use it as theirescape car.
Obviously, she was joking.
Peony hoped.
Then Cinder's gaze swept down her, and she froze. "Hold still."
"What is it?" Asked Peony, instantly wary.
"I said, hold still!" Cinder grabbed at her.
Peony caught sight of a spot on her hand. Denial clawed at her brain, searching for an explanation—anything but that.
"A...a rash?" She asked, not daring to hope. "From the car?"
Wordlessly, Cinder pulled down the collar of her shirt, revealing a splotch, bruise-like and purple, clear as day in the moonlight. Unmistakable. Undeniable.
And that was when Peony's world began to fall apart.
She screamed, and, for a moment, lived with it. A syllable of sound, a sonnet of pain.
She let out the scream.
She was dying.
She knew she was dying.
The utter truth of it was strangely comforting—whispering in her ear and promising rest, relaxation, a new home.
Cinder had come once, and had kept her optimistic, but any hope beyond this point would be foolhardy.
The blue fever was taking over, giving hersleep, relief, rest…!
"Stars, Peony. I came as soon as I heard.
Peony hated that voice, hated the speaker. Was she envious of her eternal rest, a reward she would reap? Would she deny her this much?
Then suddenly, she remembered who she was and what she wanted.
She was Peony, this was Cinder. Her sister.
And she wanted to live.
Flashes of their last conversation returned to her.
"They asked me to go back again today. The head doctor thinks he might be able to use me to find an antidote. I told him that if he finds anything, anything at all, you have to be the first person to get it. I made him promise."
Hope darted through Peony's heart, ignoring all logic. "Really?"
"Absolutely. We're going to find one."
"How long will it take?"
"I-I'm not sure."
She felt tears sting her eyes. After all this time, thinking she was going to die…she could live."Don't let me die, Cinder. I wanted to go to the ball. Remember? You were going to introduce me to Prince—" She coughed, blood spattering her chin.
Cinder tenderly swiped the blood off her chin. "Don't give up, Peony. If I'm immune, then there has to be a way to defeat it. And they're going to find it."
She raised her fingers, displaying the blue tips. Nothing would save her now. Not the antidote, not Cinder, not the will to live.
Cinder was saying something.
She is
saying
something.
It's going to be all right…
I brought you something…
Peony.
PEONY!
Shecould see it in her mind's eye. Her namesake. A flower.
"Mom?" She asked, needing the strength she had mustered.
She barely heard Cinder over the throbbing in her ears. "She's at home. She doesn't know—" she broke off, even now refusing to admit the truth of it.
Peony was dying.
Cinder lifted her up, trying to put her in a sitting position.
She was saying something again. Peony wished she would stop.
She couldn't drink the vial Cinder was waving at her. Couldn't, couldn't, couldn't.
Peony.
Antidote.
Prince,
Promise.
Peony.
PEONY!
She felt the air drain out of her, a second before her life did.
Cinder's meaningless shouts. And her promise to care for her.
I'm sorry.
Death felt weirdly accepting now.
All the days of pain, of torture, ofneeding—!
Nothing anymore.
A single flower would control her life.
A single bloom or wilt.
One. Two. Three.
Four five six—
And then at seven, she let it wilt.