by Sasha Nanua
“Ria,” she admits, a scowl etched on her face. “My name is Ria.”
“How is this possible?” I whisper under my breath. I peer deeper at Ria while wringing my fingers. “A girl who looks exactly like me . . . in the palace? What kind of trickery . . . ?”
“I never thought I’d share your face, either,” Ria snaps. I can tell she is just as perplexed as me. Her wide eyes comb my body, searching for any detail, any difference, anything to illuminate the truth.
I stare at Ria in return, lips parted, heart thrashing in my chest. My face, plain of birthmarks or spots, contrasts her skin—sun-darkened and worn. Her clothes are made of rags and patches, unlike the lush sapphire of my sari.
“And you’re so . . . ordinary,” I say slowly.
“So what if I am,” Ria bites back, face red. “I’ve been through more than any of you damned royals.”
“Is that so?” I counter. “Like what?”
“Beatings,” she says curtly. “Whippings, lashings from the Vadi Orphanage’s headmaster.” At the dawning horror on my face, she adds, “Did the raja not tell his precious princess daughter that? I’m sure he never took one look at Abai’s orphanages and thought of how we were treated. Like dirt.”
I open my mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. All I can say is, “You don’t know what it’s like to never see the sun. To never feel it on your skin—”
“Oh, please. You live in a literal palace.” Her voice is one of disgust. But then she furrows her brows and gulps, taking a step toward me. “But this.” She gestures toward her body, then mine. “There must be a logical answer to this.” Though she does not say it, I can tell what she’s thinking.
How could two girls who have never met—two girls from different worlds—look exactly the same?
“Maybe there is a logical answer,” I say. I take an equal step toward her as though pulled by a magnet, yet confusion pulses in my veins. “Where were you born?”
Ria crosses her arms defiantly. “Definitely not here.”
I arch a brow. “You never learned?”
She shrugs, though her face betrays the truth. “I lived in the orphanage my whole life. I don’t have a passport, a crest, or anything to mark where I’m from.”
“You never knew your parents?”
“In case you didn’t know, that’s what being an orphan means.”
I harrumph. “Then tell me, Ria. When were you born?”
Her gaze flicks to mine. “Diwali night.”
“Eighteen years ago?” I ask, heart thumping.
At my words, Ria steps away from me. “How’d you know that?”
I shake my head and carefully touch her cheek, taking hold of her chin before she can flinch. Her face is sallow yet still reflects mine nearly identically, save for the birthmark next to her eye, missing from my face, and the hollowness of her cheekbones.
“There’s something about you,” I say. I see it in her face, her eyes, her words. “Don’t you see? We’re—”
“No! Don’t say it,” Ria cuts in, pulling back and knocking my hand away. She plants her fingers to her temples. “Just . . . don’t.”
“Why not? The answer is as plain as—”
“No,” she interrupts, cupping her mouth as though about to vomit. Shaking her head, Ria whirls away, fists tightening in her hair. “It’s impossible. Lots of people probably look like me. There’re thousands of people in Abai—”
“There was only one of me, or so I thought,” I tell her. “As confused as we both are, I think you know what this means. We—we must be sisters.”
Ria swallows in revulsion, though I feel, deep down, that she knows the revelation to be true. I reach out, but she jerks back, a few precious rubies sliding from her pockets to the floor. The crystals shimmer like the eyes of a hungry tiger.
I glance at my dresser, void of most of my jewelry. “Thief,” I gasp.
“You’re the one who stole my face,” she retorts. With a hand to my forearm, she roughly shoves me aside.
My skin burns at her touch. And soon, all I see, all I feel, are sweet-scented, smoky memories.
9
Ria
My vision flashes—colorful, vibrant, lively. Then comes a flood of images: Gold bangles. Jewels. Pearls strung about her neck. Lips shaped like a bow.
I close my eyes as visions play in my mind, rolling and tumbling into an endless cavern of hidden truths.
The sound of a motherly voice drifts through the air like tendrils of smoke. “Ria,” she says, hovering over my newborn body as she caresses my cheek. “Rani,” she continues, her gaze roving to the other girl cupped in her hands. She caresses my cheek once more, but there’s something wrong. Something off.
“My twins,” she says.
The vision vanishes. Was that a memory? A part of my past I never remembered?
I release the princess’s arm and stumble back. “What was that—?”
A chill spreads through me as I take in the princess. The way her skin reflects mine. The blue sari she wears, choking her body like a vise.
Rani’s sharp-brown eyes cut to mine. “Mother. Father . . .” She studies me again. Right now she looks nothing like the princess of Abai. She looks shocked.
“It’s some sort of hallucination,” I cut in, reasoning with myself more than her. “M-maybe your—your magic.”
Princess Rani widens her eyes. “Is that what you think? That I was using my magic? I am just as baffled as to how that happened as you are, Ria.” She shakes her head. “That memory . . . I could not have done that alone.”
I tilt my head. “So, what? You think we did that . . . unlocked that memory . . .”
“Together?” Rani finishes.
My eyebrows scrunch. “But . . . how?”
Rani ponders my words before her eyes light up. “Each magic is connected to another in some way. Snake magic is deeply tied to thoughts and memories; it’s why we can connect so well to our snake familiars and read their minds.”
“That doesn’t explain why we unlocked that memory.”
“What if we unraveled our magic, our memories, hand in hand?” Rani explains. “I know, this—”
“Is unheard of,” I finish, scoffing.
“Because no one has ever heard of twins using their magic together,” Rani says convincingly. She purses her lips and paces, a finger on her chin. After a moment, her eyes swivel up to mine. “We must have done something to trigger it.” She blinks, an epiphany washing over her. “Emotion is deeply tied to magic. What we feel affects the way our magic works!”
My eyes bulge. No way in the raja’s right mind could I believe this. I can’t have magic. Magic doesn’t exist!
But there were rumors in the orphanage; one about a kid who could start a fire with his eyes; another of a girl with nightmares, dreams that had an eerie knack of becoming reality.
“What’s wrong?” Rani asks.
Cold fingers slide down my spine. “The fever children . . .”
“Fever children?” Rani echoes, intrigued.
I gulp. “When I was young, there were babies who screamed with endless fevers. Some kids thought they had magic, remnants of it, at least, from the Fire Master.”
Rani’s brows lift.
“We were told that magic didn’t exist. Even speaking of it meant consequences. The whip. A visit from the Charts. Worse . . .”
“Father has always told me we’re the only ones with magic left,” Rani says, eyes wide. “To think other magics exist is blasphemous!”
“Yeah, and I wasn’t expecting to meet a look-alike with weird snake powers, but here we are.”
“I told you, we’re twins,” Rani counters.
“That’s nonsense,” I say, only half meaning the words. “We can’t be twins. I have no magic! That woman”—I point to a portrait of the king and queen—“is not my mother. This is not my life. It’s yours.”
She shakes her head. Walks over to me and stops a breath away. “What if it could be yours?
Just for a little while?”
Our unified stares are like two burning suns.
“Wait a minute.” Princess Rani’s gaze trickles down to the birthmark on my inner right arm. Most days I thought it was an ordinary mark, but now I see something on Rani’s left arm. Something similar.
She presses my arm to hers, and in the mirror above her dresser, the whole birthmark comes together, shaped like a snake rising from shadows.
No. I pull away. All my life I just wanted a family. But this? The royals?
Princess Rani purses her lips, casting her gaze to the jewels on her vanity. She tosses off the bangles on her arms and slides them on mine.
“Wait—what’re you doing?”
“Even if you don’t believe it, even if this is some odd twist of fate, it is as you said. You never had your shot. But . . .” She shakes her head like she can’t believe what she’s about to say. “But now you can. I’ve always wanted to escape the palace. Now I have a reason to do so. My tutor wanted me to find something.” She gulps. “I need to prove myself to Father, find a stone that could change this coming war. If I leave the palace, I might just learn of its whereabouts. And you—you have the chance to know what it’s like to have a family. To be the princess you were always meant to be.”
“Hold on. You expect me to be the princess while you’re off looking for a stone?”
“If I manage to find information on the stone, that is,” Princess Rani corrects. She worries her lower lip. “Haven’t you always wanted to live in the palace? Not worry about where or when you’ll get to eat? The palace doesn’t have meals. It has feasts.”
I scoff, but her proposal isn’t as absurd when I realize: Isn’t this everything I ever wanted? Months’ worth of food, a bed to sleep on, laps full of riches and jewels.
Safety . . .
I shake my head vehemently. “I can’t. I won’t leave Amir behind.”
Princess Rani raises a brow. “A boy? Is he . . .”
“No!” I clear my throat. “Amir’s my friend. He calls me Princess sometimes, and I call him Prince. . . .” I picture his face. I always thought he might be my family, even if we weren’t bound by blood.
Princess Rani raises her chin. “What do you want most in the world, Ria?”
A few minutes ago, I would’ve said To leave Abai. But now? Even though I don’t want to tell the princess any of my deepest, darkest secrets, I can’t hold back.
“To meet my family,” I reveal in a single breath. “To see them, Amir, and myself, safe. Always.”
“I know your life hasn’t been fair,” Rani says. “If I lived out there—where I’ve never gone—I might be a thief, too. And you, a princess.”
“What’re you saying?” I clasp onto the bangles, trying to stop shivering despite the warm wind drifting through the open window.
“I’m saying that this is what we’ve been waiting for. A chance to change fate, and on Diwali night! I must leave the palace, Ria. I’ve been shackled here, and there’s something important I must do.”
I step back. Not everything is clicking together. “Do you really mean it? You want to leave the palace?”
In her face I read the truth, solemn as ever.
A voice slices the air. “Rani!” Clacking footsteps sound from afar. “Come downstairs this instant!”
Alarm fills Princess Rani’s face. “Trust me,” she says, “this is my chance to fulfill my destiny and my old tutor’s wishes. To be like Queen Amrita.” Her eyes light up as she speaks.
No way in the skies am I made to be a princess. My skin is taut from harsh winds and dirt; hers is scrubbed clean with silky lavender soaps, smooth and hair-free. But we’ve got the same face, the same voice—
“I can’t,” I say again. “I need to get these jewels to Amir, so we can leave—”
“You told me, Ria, that you don’t have a passport. Well, the Charts will never let you pass without one, and they will never accept jewels as payment.”
“Then we’ll find another way,” I say, sidestepping Rani and turning away. Though I say the words, I’m caught between two worlds. How can I leave Abai when the truth of my birth is hidden here?
That’s when Princess Rani catches my attention. “What if I could get you out of Abai?”
I whirl toward her. “How?”
“I will make it so. You will be given safe passage from Abai with your friend, but you must do this for me first.” Rani’s eyes sparkle with anticipation. “We can both get what we want.”
I laugh at first, but the plan settles in my head like butter on warm naan. It’s ridiculous. Absurd. But I can’t help but feel a bit of wonder slithering through my veins, too.
I weigh my options the way I do before a quick chase. Calculating, analyzing. Leaving now would mean turning my back on everything I’ve discovered, with a couple jewels in my pocket that may or may not get me out of here. Staying would mean a whole new life, a new opportunity for Amir and me.
“When would we switch back? I can’t stay in this palace long—”
“Before the truce ends,” Rani promises. “It shall be enough time for me to look for what I need, and for you to figure this all out.”
I gulp. My whole life, I’ve only ever stolen two things: coins and food. Can I steal the princess’s whole identity?
My stomach tightens. Maybe this is all too much, I think, though a thrilling buzz rushes through me. What if I’m not the baseborn village girl I always thought I was?
And if I’m not, how can I refuse the opportunity of finding out who I really am?
I skirt around the bed. “I’m not going to put my life in danger without some coins in the end.”
“You can keep the jewels you’ve taken. Plus, I’ll give you all the money you need. And passports for you and your friend to sneak out of here when I return,” Rani promises. “I’ll arrange for transportation out of Abai discreetly. The Charts will never see you, and you’ll be gone before the border is closed.”
I cross my arms and tap my elbow. “No games?”
“No games.”
Skies. I could learn the truth of my birth . . . and then Amir and I could get out the way we always dreamed. Even if it takes a little longer than we’d planned, I won’t get another opportunity like this.
Mama Anita’s voice returns, sweet and smoky. One day, you’ll find your true family. One day, you’ll feel them—in your blood.
I send a prayer to the sky.
“Deal,” I tell her firmly. No going back. “But no one can know about this.”
Rani’s face mimics my same emotions: a pinch of fear, a bolt of excitement. Just minutes ago, she was nearly sobbing. “Oh, believe me, I know. Before the truce ends, I shall return. We can meet at the fountain to switch back.” She analyzes my face, then my hair, gasping at the ragged ends. “Wait here,” she says, rushing off to the bathroom.
When she returns with a pair of shears, my stomach drops.
“I’ve done this plenty,” Rani assures me. I squeeze my eyes shut at the snip snip snip of the shears. A comb soft as clouds brushes through my hair. I open my eyes at Rani’s contented sigh.
In the mirror, my hair is trimmed straight at the ends, resting at my elbows like Rani’s, and the frizz is gone—poof, disappeared. She takes the crown off her head and fits it snugly on mine, pinning my hair in place. I’m no longer Ria.
“Come here, quickly,” Rani begins, pulling me to the bed. “Tell me about the boy. Amir.”
“I’ve known him for eight moons. We’re . . . thieves.” It’s weird to admit it aloud, like I might be sent to the Pit the princess had mentioned earlier. “He’s waiting for me in the Moga Jungle. You won’t miss him, not with his scar.” I trace its location on my own face with my fingertip. “We’ve been ready to leave Abai for a long while.” For the first time, those words taste bitter, a mixture of lies and truth all at once.
To my surprise, Rani’s lips turn up at the corners. “Thieves. I’ve always wondered what it would be like to
make my own way.”
I stare at her again, still in wonderment at the exactness of her features against mine, like a mirror in plain sight. “But you have everything.” My words are a blend of anger and pity.
Rani only shakes her head. “I have parents who don’t look my way unless I do exactly what they want.” She pauses. “I have a kingdom to rule but no place to do so. And don’t even get me started on Amara. My betroth—” She cuts herself off unexpectedly, her eyes straying from mine.
“Your what?”
“Never mind,” Rani says quickly. “Just watch out for Shima.”
“For who?”
“Rani!” a voice calls again. “Hurry up!”
We both bolt up from the bed.
“My maids will be here soon.” The princess grabs a cloak from her closet and wraps it tight around her body, then tucks a small book from her dresser into a hidden pocket. “They’ll wash and dress you until you’re cleaner than the palace itself. You’ll get everything you ever needed. And more than you ever wanted. That’s a promise.”
A bout of jitters winds through me. I want her to tell me more, tell me it’s all going to be okay. All I say is, “See you soon.”
Rani gives me a bittersweet smile before gathering the folds of her sari. When she rushes out the door, her scent fills the room: lavender and cilantro. I lift my armpit to my face and sniff, immediately gagging.
Without Rani, the room feels emptier, and my task looms ahead. The images in the vision we shared pull me back, tug at me like strings on a puppet.
Growing up without a family, blood and water are no different. Amir is in my veins just as much as Rani. But Rani promised us everything we’d need, all before the truce expires. I could get us out of Abai for real. And forever.
I turn to the window and pause. I could escape right now if I wanted to. But those visions—they were real. They just won’t leave, and questions keep swirling in my brain. Was I given up? Considered lesser? Shame builds inside me. This isn’t just a simple lock to pick, a puzzle to solve.
This is my life. And I’m going to find out who I really am.
10
Rani