“Are you sure?” Glenquartz asks, eyeing the wardrobe with concern.
“Esther has a tattoo,” I say as I wrench the blade from the wood. “Just like mine. I’m sure.”
Glenquartz freezes, his aura coming to rest like a dying wind. “What? How?”
“Because a generation of idiots thought it was a great idea to tamper with magic,” I continue, angrily. “And—surprise—they made a mistake. Not only am I a target for basically everyone in the city because of who and what I am, but if any of the other cities found out there was a second tattoo, Seriden would be Royally screwed.”
“But why would King Fallow give you the tattoo? How would he have known your name if you don’t know it yourself?”
“Esther told me,” I say. “Showed me, using her magic. And I believe her. Them, I guess. She showed me a memory of her father. She…she’s my sister, Glen.”
“Esther’s your sister?” Glenquartz says slowly, as if saying it will make it make sense.
“Yes,” I say in disbelief. “I don’t even know what it’s supposed to mean. We didn’t grow up together. We’re basically strangers. And what? Everything that I went through was just character building to make me strong? Well, it did more than that. It made me angry. It made me selfish. My entire life is just a single sentence in someone else’s story. I’m the daughter of a king raised as an orphan for no other reason than he thought it would make me a good queen.”
“That doesn’t sound fair,” Glenquartz says.
“It’s more than unfair,” I say, slapping the flat edge of the blade against my hand. “It’s unkind. For him to make a decision about my entire life like that? Like he has ownership over me! I’ve lived my whole life defying ownership from others.” I shake my head with frustration. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel about this.”
“I don’t think there’s a ‘supposed to.’ I think whatever you’re feeling…you just feel it.”
I throw the blade against the wardrobe again, and it thuds with a splintering crack.
“I’m angry,” I say as I wrest the blade from the gnarled wood and turn to Glenquartz. “Why would he do this to me? How is this better? How am I better?” The shine of steel, heat rushing through my head, and I suddenly realize I’m holding a knife on Glenquartz and he’s staring down the edge of the blade. He takes a guarded step backward.
I drop my hand, letting out a sharp exhale.
“I don’t know,” Glenquartz says, and I don’t miss the sliver of fear in his aura.
“And Esther! She’s my…” I trail off and pointedly set the blade down on the bedside table. “Do you have any siblings?”
He shakes his head. “Not by blood, but I had sisters and brothers in training to become a Royal guard. Some of them have passed, and some of them have drifted away from me over the years.”
“How do you have siblings who aren’t related to you?” I ask.
“Some friends become best friends, and some best friends become family.” He retrieves his blade and secures it in its sheath. I pick idly at the splinters of wood in the wardrobe, silently wishing I could tear the world to pieces.
“How do I know if they’re ‘like family’ if I have nothing to compare it to?” I ask. “Or if I don’t have any friends at all?”
Glenquartz doesn’t answer for a while. With each passing moment, I feel more and more like a strange rock that’s been abandoned on the side of the street.
Glenquartz speaks carefully. “I’ve heard people say that you can’t choose your family but you can choose your friends. But, really, you can choose both. You can’t change your blood. Who you’re related to by birth is something outside your control. But who your family is? You get to choose that. You get to pick the people you let into your life and who you keep in your life. Who you choose to love and care about is up to you, not anyone else. You’ve just found out that Esther is part of your blood family. What you do with that is entirely up to you. It’s up to both of you, really. What did she say about what she wanted or expected?”
I try to remember. I was so surprised, I didn’t pay much attention to her.
“She said she was sorry for me,” I say. “That when she realized we were sisters, she felt guilty about my life as a Nameless. That I had to live my life without a father. And now I’m mad. I’m angry. Not at her, but at him.” I don’t realize how strongly I feel it until the words are in my mouth and the rage is in my chest.
I continue, “I’m mad, not only because of the life he sentenced me to and the life he deprived me of. I’m mad because I hate him for it, and that’s not fair because I never got the chance to love him. He wanted me to be Nameless when I became queen, but why did that mean I had to grow up alone?”
There are tears rimming Glenquartz’s eyes, and seeing them almost makes me break down too. He shakes his head and extends his arm toward me. It takes me a second to realize he’s offering me a hug. The only person I’ve ever hugged is Hat.
Glenquartz’s arm wavers as though he’s made a mistake in offering, but I relax and let myself be held.
“Do you trust Esther?” Glenquartz asks.
“I…I’ve seen her help people,” I say, pulling out of the embrace. “I want to trust her.”
“Then do. Trust.” Glenquartz shrugs as if it’s that simple.
I groan and run a hand over my forehead. “Gaiza. I have to go tell Esther that I told you.”
Glenquartz squints, puzzled.
“What if she secretly hates you?” I ask. “And I literally told her biggest secret to the first person I saw. Regardless of whether she’s right about us being family, her tattoo is real.”
“You think she secretly hates me?” Glenquartz says skeptically. “I don’t want to brag, but not a lot of people hate me.”
I glare at him. “Lucky you.” I drag Glenquartz toward the door, but I stop short of opening it. “If Esther isn’t at the Fallow tower, where would I find her?”
Glenquartz pinches his chin. “She spends most of her time in the sparring room. I can take you there tomorrow morning, if you like. Or, judging from your angry eyebrows, I can take you now. Now is great.”
“Good choice.”
Yet as soon as we open the door, we find Esther standing there. Everything about her posture is apologetic, and I chastise myself for not sensing her aura as she approached.