“His grief he will not forget; but it will not darken his heart, it will teach him wisdom.”
The last time Faris spent a night in this castle, the place where he was born, he barely knew how to hold a knife. He didn’t know how to read. The part of his brain that stored memories had not yet been fully developed, which was why he was currently standing on the balcony, looking out into the courtyard, and trying to fit together the few blurry pieces of her past he still had.
No one recognized him when he walked through the gates–they were all focused on the princess Lenna’s return. There were flashes of her, too, in his memory: a little girl who clung to his skirts, smiled wide when he looked at her. Faris’s gaze traveled to the gardens, where he could swear he almost saw his sister and his younger self: two little girls barefoot in the soil, not a care in the world.
Could they even have that now? If that older girl had grown up in this castle, she probably would have stayed a girl, been the picture of poise and grace. But he didn’t. He’d cast off the ties of the family he never thought he would see again to become someone new, someone strong. She knew Lenna and the others still didn’t exactly understand her, and it’s not like she was good at explaining it.
But now that reuniting with that family was in her grasp, she couldn’t help but think that “what she was” could only ever be answered out of necessity. It was easier for her men to believe she was a man. It was easier for his new companions to believe he was a woman. Lenna was looking for a missing sister, not a prince of pirates. It was best not to bring it up, to let things stay as they were.
Faris heard one of the castle doors open. From the sound of the footsteps, he could tell it was Lenna before he heard her voice.
“Faris?” the princess called softly from the doorframe.
Faris did not turn around. “Aye.”
“May I join you?”
Faris’s shoulders rose in a noncommittal shrug. “It be your balcony, lass.”
Faris thought he heard a chuckle as Lenna came up next to him.
“Why do you talk like that?” she asked.
“Like what?”
Lenna gestured vaguely with her hands. “Gruff. Tenor. Like a pirate. Like a man. You don’t have to pretend anymore. Not for us.”
“M’not pretendin’, Lenna.” Faris cast a glance downward at his sister, who was now looking at the garden herself. Was it possible she remembered too? He sighed. “This is who I am.”
“Is it…who you want to be?”
Lenna looked up, her wide green eyes boring into Faris. This was a leading question. It felt like a trap. Faris took several steps back, his boots striking the stone floor with a decisive click.
“And what’s that supposed to mean, eh?” Faris said defensively. “I happen to like who I am.”
“And I do too!” Lenna insisted. “I’m sorry, I was just asking.”
Faris looked back out over the balcony, hoping Lenna would take this as her cue to end the conversation. She did not.
“I just… I just want to make sure my sister is happy.”
Faris swore she felt her heartbeat stop. She jerked her head back to face the princess. Lenna was biting her lip, as though she knew she’d said something she shouldn’t have.
“I’m right, aren’t I.” Lenna continued. Nowhere to go but forward, Faris supposed. He respected that. “That’s why we have the same pendant. And why you’ve been acting weird since we got here.”
Faris was frozen. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t bring himself to acknowledge this. He knew what came next–dresses and coronations and arranged marriages. Expectations and singing lessons and producing heirs and–and–and–
Lenna took the silence as its own response. “I get it,” she said. “I shouldn’t have brought it up. I’m sorry. Look, just, get some rest, alright? Big day tomorrow.”
With her head hung, Lenna began walking back to her room. Faris followed her with his gaze feeling absolutely helpless. But the second Lenna passed by him, he regained control of his body again. His hand shot out and grabbed Lenna by the wrist, stopping her.
“Faris, I said I was sorry–”
“M’not your sister. Probably. Maybe.”
She was sweating. She felt the panic rush to her brain as every cell in her body fought her with the force of fifteen years of learned experience. But Lenna had taken a step. It was Faris’s turn.
“P’rhaps,” she continued. “P’rhaps I’m your…brother.”
Faris caught a glimpse of Lenna’s face in the moonlight. It was stained with tears, which made Faris realize his face was also kind of wet.
“You idiot,” Lenna sobbed, throwing her arms around Faris without warning. “I don’t care what you are. I’m just glad you’re alive. I’m glad we–”
The sobs that tore through her cut her sentence short. She was soaking the front of Faris’s clothing with her tears and snot. An old blurry memory flashed in Faris’s mind; this scene was familiar. He slowly, gently wrapped his arms around his sister and rested his chin on the top of her head, as though he’d been doing that every day for the last fifteen years.
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