Chapter 6 - Smoke and Mirrors

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Sofia was staring at her fingertips, willing them to glow and change their color, even slightly, even just a little bit.

Of course, they didn't.

She told herself that she was not disappointed, that she hadn't even really expected anything to happen. Orì had played a trick on her, teasing her that she could do the same things as she. Sofia was certain that this had just been the blue-skinned girl's way of making fun of her. She was probably watching her from a hiding place, amused by her trying and failing.

She heard her aunt calling.

"Sofia, come inside."

With a sudden fright, Sofia looked around as if Orì might be there after all. Then she checked her fingers one last time. Nothing. Now, she was relieved by this.

"Why, Aunt Sybil?" she called back, buying a bit more time.

"I need to talk to you."

The window closed with a smack, emphasizing, as usual, Aunt Sybil's unwillingness to engage in any discussion.

Sofia went in and put her boots in the corner behind the door. She took off her heavy coat and scarf, and wavered for a moment longer. The last time Aunt Sybil had called her to her room had been years ago, for an uncomfortable conversation about Uncle Tomas, and why she was not to take anything he said seriously. For a woman with such a rich vocabulary, Aunt Sybil had been at pains to find the right words, especially since she had tried to sound compassionate and forgiving, qualities that she did not possess.

"Your Uncle Tomas does his best," she had said with an expression on her face that had silently added, and his best isn't much. "But you and me, we need to accept that he is a very fallible man and that he will never change."

For Aunt Sybil did not believe that people could change.

At the time, Sofia had merely nodded and gone back outside to play. She did not remember feeling particularly upset, only sad and somewhat restless. Aunt Sybil had not told her anything she hadn't known already. If anything she had thought that if Aunt Sybil wanted Uncle Tomas to make a bigger effort than she might start by trying to make one herself. But maybe Aunt Sybil considered herself beyond improvement, too.

This time, Aunt Sybil was sitting in her customary place as if nothing unusual was going on. The only abnormality was that there were two cups of tea on the table instead of one. The hot liquid was steaming, freshly brewed. There was even a single cookie laid out artlessly next to Sofia's cup.

Aunt Sybil gestured towards them self-consciously.

"I made tea," she said and cleared her throat, uncomfortable.

Sofia couldn't help but smile over her aunt's clumsy attempt at being motherly, but she quickly hid the smile and thanked her, taking the cup in both hands as if nothing could make her happier. Actually, she was checking it for colored fingerprints, but there was nothing. Of course, there is nothing! she thought angrily at herself. Stop checking!

"I am worried about you, Sofia," Aunt Sybil began. "At your age, I had long been given a purpose. It is true, on some days, it has felt like a burden, but it keeps the mind from wandering. Nowadays, there is less urgency in assigning people their duties. The border villages seem to have become forgotten. Life in the big towns must be so much more amusing."

Aunt Sybil pointlessly stirred her tea. The spoon screeched along the bottom of the cup. Sofia was holding in her breath. She felt like this conversation would shape her entire life. Her stomach started to burn. She felt hungry and nauseous at the same time. She stuffed the cookie into her mouth and swallowed it, barely chewing. It was strange. She had been waiting for this moment for years, and now that it had arrived, she didn't want to hear it.

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