Page 11 (1/1)

ONE

As usual, Julian gave her a book

Just like the year before, and the year before, and every holiday or occasion he could find in between his sister’s birthdays She had shelves of his so-called gifts Soiven in truth, and some to simply clear space in the library he called a bedrooh and so precariously that even the cats had trouble navigating the labyrinthine piles The subjects varied, from adventure tales of Prairie raiders to stuffy poetry collections about the insipid Royal Court they both strived to avoid Better for kindling, Coriane would say every time he left her another dull voluave her an ancient text written in a language she could not read And one she assumed he only pretended to understand

Despite her dislike for thecollection on neat shelves, strictly alphabetized, their spines facing forward to display titles on leather bindings Most would go untouched, unopened, unread, a tragedy even Julian could not find the words to be so terrible as a story untold But Coriane kept theold-staht of sus From Julian was scrawled in each one, and those words she treasured above alifts were loved uides sheathed in plastic, tucked between the pages of a genealogy or encyclopedia A few held court at her bedside, snug beneath her ht when she could devour technical schematics and machine studies How to build, break down, and raphy equiphtbulbs and kitchen stoves

Her father did not approve, as was the usual way A Silver daughter of a noble High House should not have fingers stained in motor oil, nails chipped by “borrowed” tools, or bloodshot eyes fro over unsuitable literature But Harrus Jacos forgot his s every ti sparks and blurred transmissions Fix it, Cori, fix it She did as he co each time would be the one to convince his sneered at a few days later, and all her good work forgotten

She was glad he was gone, away in the capital aiding their uncle, the lord of House Jacos This way she could spend her birthday with the people she loved Namely, her brother, Julian, and Sara Skonos, who had co prettier by the day, Coriane thought, noting her dearest friend It had been , when Sara turned fifteen andreally, but already the girl seemed different, sharper Her cheekbones cut cruelly beneath skin soray eyes, once bright stars, seemed dark, full of shadows But her smile came easily, as it always did around the Jacos children Around Julian, truly, Coriane knew And her brother was just the sa a distance no uninterested boy would think to keep He was surgically aware of his ically aware of her brother At seventeen, he was not too young for proposals, and she suspected there would be one in the co months

Julian had not bothered to wrap her gift It was already beautiful on its own Leatherbound, striped in the dusty yellow-golds of House Jacos, with the Burning Crown of Norta embossed into the cover There was no title on the face or spine, and Coriane could tell there was no hidden guidebook in its pages She scowled a little

“Open it, Cori,” Julian said, stopping her before she could toss the book onto the loves to hide “common” hands, impractical dresses for a court she refused to visit, and an already opened box of sweets her father didn’t want her to eat They would be gone by dinnertime

Coriane did as instructed and opened the book to find it ees were blank She wrinkled her nose, not bothering to put on the show of a grateful sister Julian required no such lies, and would see through them anyway What’s more, there was no one here to scold her for such behavior Mother is dead, Father gone, and Cousin Jessamine is blessfully still asleep Only Julian, Coriane, and Sara sat alone in the garden parlor, three beads rattling around the dusty jar of the Jacos estate It was a yawning room that matched the ever-present, hollow ache in Coriane’s chest Arched s overlooked a tangled grove of once-orderly roses that had not seen the hands of a greenwarden in a decade The floor needed a good sweeping and the gold draperies were gray with dust, andover the soot-stained o The man who stared out frorandfather, Janus Jacos, ould certainly despair of his fa on an old na do with little and less every year