The Five Daughters of the Moon

by Leena Likitalo

  Then I remember, and again I feel foolish. Elise has lately been sneaking out with him almost every night. My silly sister thinks I don’t know, but nothing can escape the gagargi. He has a thousand eyes and a thousand ears. Ours is the just cause. Together, with the people and my seed on our side, we can’t lose.

  “Good.” Gagargi Prataslav glances at me from the corner of his eye. My skin suddenly gets goose bumps. Somehow he knows that I thought ill of him earlier, even if it was only for a fleeting moment. “Stay,” he says to me, and strides to the door to confer with the captain.

  My stomach knots so tight it hurts. I have displeased him on the eve of the coup, the time I need him the most. Perhaps my mind is in some ways as weak as Alina’s. But weakness isn’t something an empress-to-be can afford. I pick up the mechanical peacock. I will not let my nerves get the better of me.

  “The men are at their assigned places,” Captain Janlav reports to Gagargi Prataslav. It is clear the gagargi doesn’t want me involved in the conversation. It is my own fault.

  I turn the peacock in my hands. There, the spring is under the folded tail of iridescent blue-green feathers. I wind the spring before I set the bird back on the desk. Instantly, it starts pecking at invisible seeds, the magnificent tail balancing the movement.

  “When the clock strikes twelve, we wake up the daughters and escort them into the observatory. The curtains are already drawn shut.”

  I glance at the tiny row of windows above the gagargi’s desk. It might be just my imagination, but the Moon seems to shine brighter. Oh, father, you must know that I take no pleasure in the thought of yanking my sisters out of bed, of herding them through the hallways manned by unfamiliar faces. But it is of the utmost importance they don’t know about our plan. For if something were to go wrong, it must be only I who face the consequences, not them.

  The gagargi asks something in a low voice not meant for my ears. Captain Janlav answers as loudly as before. It is good he doesn’t detect the rift between the gagargi and me. “The train is ready, too.”

  When the peacock’s head is next raised, I place my little finger under its path. I wait for the beak to fall and pierce my skin. A heartbeat later it does so. I close my eyes and wince in the pain I deserve. Why did I have to start doubting the gagargi? Have I endangered our plans, the coup?

  Once my family is gathered in the sacred observatory, I will explain my terms. Mother will step aside willingly and join her sisters in exile. She will order her bodyguards to surrender. There will be no need to spill the blood of my people. It is an inconvenience that I can’t marry the Moon before mother ceases to be, but I am sure my people will accept me as a ruler with Gagargi Prataslav at my side.

  “I have handpicked the soldiers for the journey,” Captain Janlav continues, eyes wide with boyish enthusiasm, square chin angled up. “Servants we change at every stop on the way to Angefort.”

  A single drop of blood glistens in the Moon’s light. It isn’t my imagination. His light really is stronger now. It cascades through the windowpanes as if there were no veil of dust. It brushes the mechanical peacock to a glorious shine. It bends around the swan bead, and the yellow strands turn golden.

  I whisper before I can stop myself, “My father is listening to us.”

  Gagargi Prataslav’s head snaps in my direction. For a moment, his jaw hangs slack. Then he pulls his hood up and says, “Step away from the light, Celestia.”

  His is the voice I have listened to and obeyed without hesitation. Until tonight, at least. But as I bask in the Moon’s light, I don’t understand why I, the empress-to-be, have done so. My little finger still bleeds. On the desk, the mechanical peacock continues swinging back and forth. Peck, peck, peck goes its golden beak against the scarred surface.

  “Join us here.” The gagargi motions at Captain Janlav. The soldier glances at the gagargi, at me. He doesn’t understand what is happening either. “The time has come for you to take your mother’s place and lead this empire into the age of progress.”

  “The age of progress,” I repeat before I can stop myself. It is as if he has wound some invisible spring inside me. As if he could control me even from across the room, long after winding up the spring.

  Behind me, the peacock continues pecking.

  “The age of unity.” Captain Janlav’s eyes shine with fervor. Is he equally affected by the gagargi’s manipulation? How many others does the gagargi have under his influence? By what means did he achieve this?

  Though I yearn to drift to the gagargi, I force myself to remain in the Moon’s light. Next to me, the swan lies limp on the stool, dead. Its soul swirls inside the glass bead, the golden strands strengthening more with each heartbeat. I pick the bead up to examine it closer. For there is something about it that—

  “Celestia?” The way the gagargi says my name stings like a needle. “Put it down, dear. I have told you before not to tamper with my experiments.”

  A chastisement? Since when has anyone apart from mother had the right to chastise me? I hold on to the soul bead with both my hands, and yet a part of me wants to set it back on the desk. It shouldn’t be difficult for me to do as I wish. But it is, and I have to say something. “I will not drop it.”

  “No, you won’t.” Gagargi Prataslav looms at me from the door, clearly barely able to resist the urge to stride to me. I realize he doesn’t want to step into the Moon’s light. He is afraid of my father. As he should be.

  “Captain Janlav,” I say, bolder now. I no longer know how the night will play out, and even if I could, I wouldn’t try to stop the coup. The Crescent Empire can’t continue to exist as it is. And yet, I have to find out if there is something the gagargi isn’t telling me.

  Captain Janlav blinks, and with that he is more present again. He stares keenly at me, for it is an honor to be addressed by a Daughter of the Moon. I say, “On a night like this, many things might go wrong. I trust you will personally take care of my sisters’ safety.”

  “The train is ready . . .” He glances sideways at the gagargi, frowning. He clenches his mouth shut. He folds his arms behind his back.

  “The train is ready for my mother,” I say, even as the gagargi glares daggers at me. I cradle the bead in my open palms. The glass feels warm against my skin. “That is what you mean, is it not?”

  “Be still.” Gagargi Prataslav lifts his right forefinger up before Captain Janlav can reply. The soldier’s eyes go blank. Indeed, the gagargi has the soldier under his power. “Listen only to me.”

  Then the gagargi turns his full attention to me, and when he speaks his voice is thick with what could be concern, but is actually . . . a suggestion. “Celestia, are you feeling unwell?”

  If I were so inclined, if I were to want to return to the sweet bliss of ignorance, I would only have to say yes.

  “We have gone through this countless times before. Do you not remember?”

  It is as if he is giving me the permission to remember, and then I do remember everything so clearly that I can’t fathom how I could ever have forgotten it. The train is for my sisters. It is better for them to be sent away, in case unrests follow the coup. But what about mother, then? What did the gagargi say about her?

  “A deposed empress would pose a risk to our rule.” The words form on my lips on their own, and it isn’t me who is talking but someone else altogether.

  The gagargi nods in paternal approval. “And what must we do with anything that places our plans at risk?”

  “We . . .” must eliminate all risks.

  “Yes?”

  “She . . .” must die for me to marry the Moon.

  I realize these are his words, not mine. I will not say them. Not now. Not ever. Even if I may have condemned my mother before, now that I have regained my senses, I will not order her executed.

  The gagargi’s thin lips draw back, revealing his crooked teeth. “Out with it.”

  But my father’s light is pure silver. The bead in my cupped palms blooms in amber. I
t is the key to everything. The Great Thinking Machine needs human souls for fuel. A human soul is amber in color. I think of the swan, how the gagargi stroked its forehead. I think of myself, lying with my head on his lap as he drew circles on my forehead and muttered words of . . . devotion, I assumed, but what if . . .

  No, it is too terrible, too horrifying to even think of. I have wanted this empire to change for as long as I can remember. Gagargi Prataslav and I share the same goals. He would never . . . I glance at him, and find him staring hungrily at me from the other side of the room.

  Oh, he would. He would have me order my mother executed, have me marry the Moon without ever realizing what I was doing. For even as my father can see into my soul, if I were still under the gagargi’s spell, I would think it my idea and my father wouldn’t turn me aside.

  “I will not do it.” I lift the bead higher, before my face, and bask in the glow that is both disquieting and comforting. My hands tremble with my fury. But my voice is as regal as ever. “Even if you have somehow managed to steal a part of my soul.”

  “Don’t you dare to—” The gagargi strides toward me then, regardless of the Moon’s light. His black robes flap in his wake. His boots strike hard against the rough stone floor.

  “Stop.” I extend my hands toward the gagargi. The bead rolls so close to the edge of my fingertips that I am sure it will fall. Yet, somehow, it remains there, but only barely.

  The gagargi halts as if he has hit a wall. He offers his palms at me in a pacifying gesture. But as he speaks, his nostrils flare. They are red inside, as if he were about to bleed. “Everything is all right. Nothing has changed. Just put the bead down, Celestia. Let us talk in peace.”

  This is the confirmation I needed. If I put the bead down, he will regain his control over me, I am sure of that. And after my defiance, he will extract even more of my soul, until nothing remains but an automaton crafted for his purposes. It is awful to realize the truth. I really don’t matter to him—a soulless shell would suffice. For with me by his side, married to the Moon and bearing his child, he could rule the empire all by himself.

  “Everything has changed.” I pry my palms apart. The bead rolls into the widening gap, so bright now. I have lost a part of myself irrevocably. But I would rather lose it permanently than let a man like Gagargi Prataslav possess control over me. “I will not become one of your soulless automatons.”

  The Moon blesses me with his strength. I part my hands. For a moment, the bead just floats there, suspended in the air. Then it drops. Slowly, slower than it should. The gagargi dashes toward me, regardless of what my father might see. But it is too late.

  The bead shatters as it meets the floor. The impact jars my every bone and muscle, as if I were the one slammed against the cold tiles. I fold onto my knees, spreading my arms to brace for the impact.

  Golden haze blinds me. Pain binds me. It is my enemy that I have to thank for recovering from this daze.

  “You stupid, stupid girl,” the gagargi shrieks, descending to all fours before me. He lifts one hand up, fingers twirling shapes. I realize he is trying to capture the soul strands that coil above the shattered bead.

  He may not have them. But how does one capture back one’s soul? The strands coil toward me like a lost child rushing to greet her mother. Could it be as simple as to . . .

  I bend my head down and inhale as deep as my lungs allow, even more, until it feels like they will explode. The shimmering tastes familiar, of midsummer roses in bloom mixed with endless fields of pristine snow. Even upon the first breath, I feel invigorated, stronger, faster. I inhale more, and I see . . . green grass under bare feet. Mist rolling to cover poppy fields. Alina laughing as she runs through dawn. Merile petting her dogs in a white wicker chair. Sibilia dreaming of her debut, of short-sleeved, sequined dresses. Elise sparkling on the dance floor, red-gold curls forming a halo around her head. But I can also see and smell and taste and feel the blue skies that stretch on forever and clear-watered blue lakes that are perfect for nesting.

  “Stop resisting me,” the gagargi curses, and slaps my cheek. The impact is so hard that my head lolls sideways. The memories fade with the sudden, blooming pain. But they aren’t lost. If I were to want to do so, I could easily recall them.

  “Never,” I hiss, even as sparks cling to the edges of my vision. Defiantly, I fan the air between us, bringing the last lingering amber strands toward me. I suck in the air. This is my soul, not his to toy around with.

  Gagargi Prataslav, still on all fours like a snarling bear, raises a paw at me. He attempts to push at my shoulder, but I evade him gracefully. He growls at me, “What is mine will be mine forever.”

  But that is where he is wrong. He may have fooled me once, but he will never fool me again. There are no soul strands left for him to catch. “You will never have me.”

  I feel whole again, or at least in control of myself. Whatever I have lost, I can hopefully regain with time. I get back up on my knees. I sway onto my feet. I need to make it out of here, back to the palace to warn my family.

  “Celestia, Celestia . . .” The gagargi stares at me from under his thick, black brows, and then he rises to his full height. He is tall, dark, and menacing. How I ever found him anything else, I don’t know. I regret that mistake, even as I know that will not be enough. Unless . . .

  Captain Janlav stands by the door, staring fixedly ahead. He truly is under the gagargi’s control. If I can dash past the gagargi, I might make it past him, too.

  “My little defiant empress-to-be.” The gagargi’s gaze deepens, widens. I can feel his voice winding around me. He can’t resist trying to see if he can still manipulate me. I steel my mind against him. I brush his words aside.

  “Ah!” The gagargi taps his forehead theatrically. But this experiment of his, it has revealed that I can stand up against him now. “Ah, my dearest Celestia, it is of no use to fight against me. When the revolution comes we must all choose whether we are with the victors or whether we are but one of the victims.”

  “Without me by your side,” I say, spitting the words out, circling around him, forcing myself to maintain the eye contact, until it is me who is closer to the door, “you will never rule the empire.”

  Mother will believe me. My seed will believe me. Together, we can craft a plan. Surely we can prevent this coup attempt from turning into the revolution the gagargi desires.

  “Well . . .” The gagargi stares at me, and his dark gaze intensifies. In it lies a challenge. And more. I recognize treachery now. “We shall just have to see how things pan out tonight, won’t we?”

  I flee to the door then, past the dazed Captain Janlav, out of the laboratory. I don’t dare to look back as I scamper up the steep stairs, away from the gagargi’s ghastly chambers, into the entrance hall. I must stop what I have started. I must protect my mother and sisters.

  “Run, my dearest Celestia, run!” Gagargi Prataslav’s words roll against my back, cold and heavy like waves about to drag one under the surface. “You may run as fast as your little feet can carry, but you will be too late. The revolution starts tonight, and you will be safe only with me!”

  I push the hall’s double doors open with both hands and sway into the freezing, black night. Even though my carriage is waiting for me, I fear the gagargi may be right. Everything is ready for the coup. By the time I reach the palace, it will be too late to stop it. There will be blood, and some of it may be my family’s.

  I glance up at the sky, at the Moon’s glowing face. Oh, Father, please help your strayed daughter!

  Chapter 6: Alina

  As soon as Nurse Nookes closes the door behind her, I open my eyes, as I have done on every single night since my name day. I will stay awake for as long as I can and longer. At some point, I might fall asleep. Though I’ve asked my sisters and even Nurse Nookes how to distinguish dreams from reality, I’m still unsure of what happens in my room after the lights go out, and I don’t dare to ask more questions, lest they start worryin
g even more about me.

  Shadows live in the world beyond this one. As I’m the youngest, it’s impossible for me to see there. And yet, the shadows arrive mere moments later.

  I lie very quiet under my down-feather duvet as they shift in the corners of the room, as their forms strengthen. The shadows are smaller here than in life. Diminished. I can’t yet name who has come to visit me tonight. Usually it’s birds, but sometimes animals I’ve never met in life.

  Tonight I’m visited by a swan, an owl, and a hairy creature that stoops on two legs. It’s a monkey. No, it’s bigger. An ape. I nod a greeting to the animals, but I don’t dare to speak, lest someone may hear me and alert Nurse Nookes. I can still taste the sugary mixture she urged me to swallow before tugging me to bed. I spat it out when she had her back turned to me. I know she means well, everyone does, but I hate how her potions cloud my mind.

  As always, my animal visitors play out scenes from their lives. Their shadows dance dark against the white wall opposite my bed. I watch each of their performances, stifling yawns, forcing my eyes to stay open.

  The swan flies, flies to faraway lands, to nest and raise its hatchlings on the shores of a clear-watered lake.

  The owl hunts. It swoops over glittering snowfields, toward the sounds it hears from under the snow banks. Then it dives, talons spread. Its beak pierces the ice-crusted snow. The scene ends in the owl’s victory. In a mouse’s death.

  The ape leads a slow life. It clings to a tree and munches leaves of plants I don’t recognize. It scratches its friends, and they scratch it in return.

  Though I can’t know for sure, I think these might be the best moments of the animals’ lives. It’s well possible that some of my visitors have shown me what they wished they’d done differently. In any case, be it memories or regrets, it’s my duty to watch, since if I don’t watch then I fear that no one else will do so.

  After the ape retreats back into the corner, I nod again at the shadows. They nod back at me. It’s so hard not to yawn, to remain awake. Sometimes each animal has only one scene to play. Sometimes several. Sometimes they share with me what might be their nightmares. I don’t know for sure.