Page 40 of The Amber Sunburst

“What does that mean, then?” Dora asks, as timid as Ophelia has ever heard her.

“Immediate branding and subsequent expulsion.”

Ophelia can’t help herself. She topples out of her hiding place to find Aika, Dora, and two of the Mothers standing in a tense face-off. The Mothers don’t look surprised to see her—she is the third in this trio after all—but Aika’s and Dora’s faces drop.

Dora jumps in before the Mothers can say a word. “She had nothing to do with this.”

“I find that very hard to believe, Miss Isadora. Look at what she’s wearing.” The Mother motions to their matching outfits in disgust.

“We gave it to her. We made her wear it.”

Ophelia knew they were up to something; sneaking out and going shopping and keeping secrets. But she had convinced herself it wouldn’t be bad. Or at least, that they wouldn’t get caught.

“I swear on all of the Forms, she wasn’t part of anything. You know Ophelia. She’s too reckless. Too loud. Too… noticeable. Ask anyone we sold to, she was never there.”

Oh, Dora. Her sweet, blunt, courageous Dora.

What have you done?

“Miss Ophelia. Were you involved?”

She sticks her chin out. “Yes. In fact, it was my idea.”

“And what was it that you were doing?” the Mother asks.

She racks her brain. Dora mentioned selling. But what? And to whom? And⁠—

Hair.

Ophelia’s hair is still pulled up from last night, tied with a leather strap meant for Form necklaces. She noticed supplies for the necklaces all over the room, now that she thinks back.

“Making Form necklaces,” she responds, “and selling them.”

The look on the Mothers’ faces tells her that she hesitated just a moment too long.

“Are these two really worth getting expelled for?” the Mother asks, almost pitying. “Living with that shame branded into you for the rest of your days?”

“Yes.”

“You weren’t involved,” the Mother deduces. “Your loyalty is… admirable, Miss Ophelia, but misguided.”

Ophelia blubbers in disagreement, but Aika cuts her off. “See, Mother? She really has nothing to do with it. And I, for one, cannot subject an innocent to branding and exile.”

Aika. Loving Aika.

Why are you saying this? What are you doing?

The Mother sighs. “To your room, Ophelia.”

“What?” Ophelia screeches. “No. I was involved. I was behind it all. I did it, I swear.”

“To your room,” the Mother demands, voice raised over Ophelia’s desperate pleas.

“You can’t do this. You can’t take them from me.” She would fall to her knees, she would beg for eternity. She would do anything to stop the red-hot brand from etching its shame onto the faces of her girls.

“They’re mine,” she yells, pushing to stand between Aika and the Mothers.

“I’m sorry, Ophelia,” Aika whispers with quiet tears.