Alethia couldn't control the whirl of emotions that swirled through her—shock, anger, happiness, and grief. Each one threatened to spill out in a bucket of tears. After nineteen years, she had finally gotten what she wanted; the warm touch of motherly hands, the long-desired approval, and the power her mother thought she possessed. Then why didn't it feel like a victory? Her chest tightened as she thought of the long years of torture and harsh punishments, and for what? For this? 

Alethia was tired and frustrated. Nothing made sense when it came to her mother. She would never understand her. She watched the queen carefully as she moved through the room to the door.

"I will summon both of you to the throne room," Queen Liliana gripped the doorknob and turned to look over her shoulder. "Then, you'll understand."

When the door shut, Alethia set aside the cup on her nightstand before throwing the blankets off of herself. She winced as she stood up, pain radiating from her stomach wound. Clenching her teeth, she dressed quickly and belted on her weapons. She had to check on Roxana herself and make sure she was okay. Alethia stepped out of the room and walked through the halls of the castle. As she went past the garden area, she couldn't help but remember her dream.

An ache began in her chest, and she bit her bottom lip. It had been eight long years since Queen Liliana had banished her father, Galen. And the dream reminded her of the memories she'd forced back into the dark corners of her mind, only to be opened in moments where she needed them. Alethia missed her father. He had been the only one who truly understood her, who had kept her mother from using her favorite form of punishment. The slashes on her back throbbed at the thought.

At Roxana's door, Alethia knocked softly.

"Come in." Her little sister's voice sounded through the door. Alethia entered the room, preparing herself for the assault of bright colors Roxana preferred. 

The room opened up into a sitting area containing multiple bright blue chairs with light pink pillows cushioning the top. A dusty rose rectangular rug sat underneath the chairs, which all faced an unlit fireplace. A section of the room partitioned on the side to give way to a glimpse of the white sheets on an overly large bed. Roxana sat in a seat facing the fireplace, rolling a ball of mud in her hands.

"Oh, it's you." Roxana turned her eyes away from Alethia, staring out the window directly across from the door. Alethia stepped inside, closing the door and taking a seat.

"Were you expecting someone else?" Alethia asked, hands clasping together in her lap as she observed her sister pick up the speed at which she rolled the ball of mud.

Roxana's lips pressed together. Her usually rosy cheeks were absent of color. "I thought you were our mother."

Alethia's brow furrowed at the words. She had hoped the queen would ignore her sister. The queen's attention was rarely a good thing, especially after what happened in the throne room. "The queen didn't punish you, did she?"

"No," Roxana said sharply, unfolding her legs from the seat and planting her feet on the ground. "Mother was simply trying to get your powers to awaken. She told me that she wasn't aiming to strike me."

"What?" Alethia questioned, a wave of slow-burning anger fuming within her. "What powers?"

"You sucked them in," Roxana said, breaking eye contact with her sister. Her hands squished the ball of mud, flattening it with a loud slap. "I've never seen anything like it. Mother says you nearly burnt out. She said it was a possibility that you wouldn't recover."

"I sucked them in?" Alethia repeated slowly. She couldn't remember anything from the throne room except for her body's reaction. She shivered, realizing that was the burning out feeling her mother always warned Roxana about. Many people could use magic, but using too much of it could lead to burning from the inside out.  

"She said you sucked in her magic." Roxana's voice was harsh and bitter. Alethia blinked at the sound of it. She had rarely heard her little sister even raise her voice before. Roxana stood from the chair, allowing the mud to drop onto the clean rug, stepping over it to walk past her sister.

"You must be able to feel it now." Roxana continued. "Inside of you. You must feel invincible after years of nothing."

Alethia flinched. She watched as her sister walked slowly across the room to the side table in front of the window; on it sat a vase containing a bouquet of roses. "I feel nothing."

"You don't have to lie," Roxana snapped as she yanked a rose out of the vase. Her little sister hissed lightly as a thorn pricked her finger. "Did mother not shower you with compliments? At last, her favorite child has actually done something."

"Roxana, where is this coming from?" Alethia's heart raced as her sister's words pierced her chest. 

Their relationship had never been the closest, but they were always there for each other. For every nightmare Roxana had growing up, Alethia would sit in her room until she went back to sleep. Every time their mother criticized Roxana for her lack of magical control, Alethia was there to listen and encourage her. 

She never shared the full extent of the training her mother put her through despite her sister's open discussions of it. She had feared telling her sister would take away from the happiness she saw on her face when their mother praised her for her magic. 

Roxana smelled the rose and turned her narrowed, angry brown eyes onto her sister. Alethia felt as if someone was gripping her heart and squeezing the blood out of it. 

"Why does everything have to be about you? Mother only talks to me about you. Even the servants talk about you. Alethia this, Alethia that."

There was no good reason why anybody would choose to discuss her. Unless they were referring to the fact that she was a murderer and a monster. Alethia felt herself shutting down at the thought. She didn't want to be the topic of discussion, and she surely didn't want anything from their mother. Not anymore. 

But the feeling of her mother's warm hand on her cheek obscured the thoughts. How could someone so brutal have such warm hands? While her own hands were as cold as the Eastern Slopes. Alethia breathed in sharply, ignoring the flare of intense pain from her wounds.

Alethia turned away from her sister and walked towards the door. She didn't want her emotions to get the best of her and lead to her saying anything she regretted. Despite her sister's awful words, Alethia understood that she was feeling hurt and left out. But first, the anger fuming inside of her had to settle. 

Before Alethia could reach the door, a ball of mud flew past her head. It landed on the door with a bang.

"Why do you do that, Alethia? Stop ignoring me and answer my questions." Roxana's voice cracked at the end. 

She turned back around to face her sister, whose chest was heaving rapidly. Roxana had dropped the rose in front of her, and she took a step towards Alethia, crushing its petals. Alethia took a slow breath in, pushing down her emotions as far as they could go.

"I can't," Alethia replied quietly, her voice devoid of everything she felt on the inside. "You're asking the wrong person, Roxy."

Roxana shook her head, cheeks red from anger, and her eyes glistened with unshed tears. Alethia took a few steps closer to her sister. 

A knock came from the door.

"Her Majesty summons both of you to the throne room."