Page 39 of The Amber Sunburst

“And who are you to my sister?” Arete investigates with much more intensity than her little body has any right to have.

“I’m her friend,” Ophelia responds. Arete doesn’t seem convinced. “Honestly, we met just today. But sometimes you feel that someone is made for you. Best friends tend to know right when they see each other.”

Eudoxia’s lips tilt sweetly, and her eyes are bright. Ophelia smiles back.

“Everything’s fine, little bird,” Eudoxia confirms. “She’s telling the truth.”

This seems to be the only cue Arete needs because her serious expression breaks open into a smile and she jumps up and down around Ophelia.

“You are so pretty. Did you know that? Wow. Do you like to read books? Do you like games? Where did you get your outfit? It looks so good on you. How do you make your hair look like that? My curls are never that nice,” Arete gushes.

“Arete, lay off her. She can’t answer a million things at once.”

“No, no, it’s okay!” Ophelia says, sitting with her on the floor. “I think everyone is beautiful, but I’m happy you think I am too. I do read books, though not as many as I would like. I love games. Doesn’t matter what as long as it’s fun. My friend got this outfit for me. Maybe I’ll ask her to find you one the next time she goes out? As for my hair, my curls are a bit different from yours. You have ringlets, and I have tight curls, so they don’t need to look the same. And yours are perfectly nice, you know.”

Arete giggles. She’s probably pleased to have found someone that matches her energy. Eudoxia, if what Ophelia has gleaned so far is correct, runs on a more internally hyper, anxious frequency. Not worse, just different.

“Arete, Ophelia’s going to sleep over tonight. Why don’t you hop in bed and show her how we tuck in the blankets?”

Arete perks up at the responsibility, and drags Ophelia to the bed to teach her how they set it up. Halfway through, Eudoxia passes her a pair of briefs and a tank top, the same thing she’s wearing, and Ophelia smiles in gratitude.

She dresses quickly and piles in with the sisters to cuddle up in Eudoxia’s bed. It’s a tight squeeze, but the warmth combats the chill that comes from the ocean.

Ophelia boops Eudoxia on the nose and whispers, “I’m glad we’re friends now.”

“I’m glad we’re friends, too,” Eudoxia says. “I needed this—someone like you. It’s all been too much for me, even with Zeno to help, and I’m just so happy you’re here.”

“I’m happy I’m here too.”

Ophelia smiles, her eyes blinking shut already.

Then, right before she falls asleep, she hears Eudoxia murmur, “I like what you said. That sometimes you just know.”

Ophelia forces herself out of bed when the sun is barely cresting over the Kallipolis skyline.

She shimmies back into her party clothes, itchy after so long in soft cotton, then pats Eudoxia’s and Arete’s heads on her way out. Before she leaves the room, Eudoxia whispers, with her eyes closed, “Come back soon, okay?”

Ophelia melts. She was scared Eudoxia would regret confiding in her, but the way Eudoxia smiles and half-squints quells her worries.

“Of course.”

As she jumps from building to building and climbs down sharp rocks, she savors the cold burn in her lungs from the morning air. It’s electric, reminding her mercilessly that she’s alive.

She’s still euphoric when she reaches the roof of the Sun Temple, but once she enters she is violently pulled back to reality.

Stern lecturing, almost yelling, echoes through the halls, loud even in the stairwell. The Mothers rarely yell, and never in the sacred Atrium, but today must be an exception. Ophelia sneaks over to hear what’s happening, hidden between the door and the wall of the Atrium.

“It didn’t hurt anyone.”

Ophelia jerks.

That is a voice she knows well: Dora.

“A weak defense,” the Mother responds, mocking and harsh. “It may not have hurt any one person, but it damaged the reputation of the Sun Temple. And for what?”

Aika speaks next. “We did something wrong. We can acknowledge that. It won’t happen again.”

“Girls like you do not change. You are not Good, as the Form of the Sun demands. It seems to me that you cannot be.”