A Throne for Sisters

“What now?” she asked.

The truth was that Sophia didn’t have an answer.

They kept walking, but by now, she was exhausted from walking so long. It was starting to rain, too, in that steady way that suggested it wouldn’t stop soon. Few places did rain the way Ashton did.

Sophia found herself gravitating down the sloped cobblestone streets toward the river that ran through the city. Sophia wasn’t sure what she hoped to find there, among the barges and the flat-bottomed punts. She doubted that wharf hands or whores were likely to be of any help to them, and those seemed to be the main things this part of the city held. But at least it was a destination. If nothing else, they could find a place to hide by its shores and watch the peaceful sailing of the ships, and dream of other places.

Eventually, Sophia spotted a shallow overhang near one of the city’s many bridges. She approached. She reeled from the stench, as did Kate, and the infestation of rats. But her tiredness made even the meanest scrap of shelter seem like a palace. They had to get out of the rain. They had to get out of sight. And right then, what else was there? They had to find a spot where no one else, even vagrants, dared to go. And this was it.

“Here?” Kate asked, in disgust. “Couldn’t we go back to the chimney?”

Sophia shook her head. She doubted that they would be able to find it again, and even if they could, it would be where any hunters would start to look. This was the best place they were going to find before the rain got worse and before night fell.

She settled down and tried to hide her tears for her sister’s sake.

Slowly, reluctantly, Kate sat down beside her, clutching her arms to her knees and rocking herself, as if to shut out the cruelty and barbarism and hopelessness of the world.

CHAPTER FOUR

In Kate’s dreams, her parents were still alive, and she was happy. Whenever she dreamed, it seemed that they were there, although the faces weren’t memories so much as constructed things, with only the locket to guide them. Kate hadn’t been old enough for more when it all changed.

She was in a house somewhere in the countryside, where the view from the leaded windows took in orchards and fields. Kate dreamed the warmth of the sun on her skin, the gentle breeze that ruffled through the leaves outside.

The next part never seemed to make sense. She didn’t know enough of the details, or she hadn’t remembered them right. She tried to force her dream to give her the whole story of what had happened, but it gave her fragments instead:

An open window, with stars outside. Her sister’s hand, Sophia’s voice in her head, telling her to hide. Looking for their parents through the maze of the house…

Hiding through the house in the dark. Hearing the sounds of someone moving about there. There was light beyond, even though it was night outside. She felt she was close, on the verge of discovering what finally happened to their parents that night. The light from the window started to grow brighter, and brighter, and —

“Wake up,” Sophia said, shaking her. “You’re dreaming, Kate.”

Kate’s eyes flickered open resentfully. Dreams were always so much better than the world she lived in.

She squinted at the light. Impossibly, morning had arrived. Her first day ever sleeping a full night outside the stench and screams of the orphanage’s walls, her first morning ever waking up somewhere, anywhere, else. Even in a dank place like this, she was elated.

She noticed not just the difference from the failing afternoon light; it was the way the river in front of them had sprung into life with the barges and boats hurrying to make the most distance upriver they could. Some moved with small sails, others with poles pushing them or horses towing them from the side of the river.

Around them, Kate could hear the rest of the city waking up. The bells of the temple were sounding the hour, while in between, she could hear the chatter of a whole city’s worth of people making their way to work, or setting off on other journeys. Today was Firstday, a good day to begin things. Maybe that would mean good luck for her and Sophia, too.

“I keep having the same dream,” Kate said. “I keep dreaming about… about that night.”

They always seemed to stop short of calling it more than that. It was strange, when they could probably communicate more directly than anyone else in the city, that she and Sophia still hesitated talking around this one thing.

Sophia’s expression darkened, and Kate immediately felt bad about that.

“I dream about it too, sometimes,” Sophia admitted sadly.

Kate turned to her, focused. Her sister had to know. She’d been older, she would have seen more.

“You know what happened, don’t you?” Kate asked. “You know what happened with our parents.”

It was more of a statement than a question.

Kate scanned her sister’s face for answers, and she saw it, just a flicker, something she was hiding.

Sophia shook her head.

“There are some things it’s better not to think about. We need to focus on what happens next, not on the past.”

It wasn’t exactly a satisfying answer, but it was no more than Kate had expected. Sophia wouldn’t talk about what happened the night their parents left. She never wanted to discuss it, and even Kate had to admit to feelings of unease every time she thought about it. Besides, in the House of the Unclaimed, they didn’t like it when orphans tried to talk about the past. They called it ungrateful, and it was just one more thing worthy of punishment.

Kate kicked a rat off of her foot and sat up straighter, looking around.

“We can’t stay where we are,” she said.

Sophia nodded.

“We’ll die if we stay here on the streets.”

That was a hard thought, but it was probably true, as well. There were so many ways to die in the streets of this city. Cold and hunger were just the start of the list. With the street gangs, the watch, disease, and all the other risks out here, even the orphanage started to look safe.

Not that Kate would ever go back. She would burn it to the ground before she stepped back through its doors. Maybe one day she would burn it to the ground anyway. She smiled at that.

Feeling a hunger pain, Kate pulled out the last of her cake and began to wolf it down. Then she remembered her sister. She tore off half and handed it to her.

Sophia looked at her hopefully, but with guilt.

“It’s okay,” Kate lied. “I have another in my dress.”

Sophia took it reluctantly. Kate sensed her sister knew she was lying, but was too hungry to deny herself. Yet their connection was so close, Kate could feel her sister’s hunger, and Kate could never allow herself to be happy if her sister was not.

They both finally crept out of their hiding place.

“So, big sister,” Kate asked, “any ideas?”

Sophie sighed sadly and shook her head.

“Well, I’m starving,” Kate said. “It will be better to think on a full belly.”

Sophia nodded in agreement, and they both headed back toward the main streets.

They soon found a target – a different baker – and stole breakfast the way they’d stolen their last meal. As they ducked into an alley and gorged themselves, it was tempting to think that they might live the rest of their lives like that, using their shared talent to take what they needed when no one was paying attention. But Kate knew it couldn’t work like that. Nothing good lasted forever.

Kate looked out at the bustle of the city before her. It was overwhelming. And its streets seemed to stretch forever.

“If we can’t stay out on the street,” she said, “what do we do? Where do we go?”

Sophia hesitated for a moment, looking as though she was as unsure as Kate was.