Perception ✔

1 Wind & Snow

Arabella and I, as sisters, were as close as any two beings could be. She was the snow, and I, the wind sweeping her up. And like the snow and wind, separately we hardly made a sound—we gave no trouble. But together, together...well, our paths' collision resounded as the most memorable times in our lives. We shared our food, our playthings, and sometimes our dreams. It seemed only inevitable that we'd also end up sharing a man.

The heavy snow outside our manor had started innocently enough. But then came the wind and no one could really say when this unruly mess took a dangerous turn. Because separately, a gentle snowfall and a delicate breeze were praiseworthy creatures. To be honest, the wind was innocent, too. As was I.

I had not wanted this. And she hadn't known. But she was married now, though I was the one he first courted. And she was married, though I was the one he said he remained close for. And she was married, knowing how I felt. In the end, what did any of that all matter? We weren't his only conquests. The two of us just happened to be the first, and only, to give him a child.

Mother sat stoic on a large ornate chair, watching us from across the room. The flames of the lamplight danced against her face, casting her in a warm hue. It was a tender tone that stopped at her frigid scowl.

"Two days now with little progress," the midwife declared.

Sweat dripped from my brow. I could barely keep my head up. My dear sister wasn't faring well. She was in a fever, babbling throughout most of it.

Another sharp pain tore through me, thrusting me forward. I let it come, helpless as I waited. This was unexpected. Mine should have arrived second. Arabella's was late. But Mother watched me. At one time, that gaze fell upon me because I was her favorite. Now...now she hated me.

I turned my head to the left to peer at my sister, perhaps for the last time. Mother wouldn't allow me to stay. It was the terrible weather why she hadn't sent me to the convent sooner. After this—after my stupid mistake—I'd have to go, the blizzard be damned.

"It's coming," someone announced.

That tingling at the base of my spine returned. I gritted my teeth as it ripped through me, and I perceived something different.

Mother's stoic expression never faltered. "Best look in on her; I see the head."

Exhausted face after exhausted face turned around to see what she meant. The crowd rushed me, squawking in panic. Young midwives, they were who came to my aid. The far more experienced ones never budged from my sister's side.

I should have focused only on the voices ordering me what to do but instead, my eyes stayed fixed on my Arabella's greying face. She was fading. And much like the snow clinging to our windows, desperate to perceive yet another day before they ultimately gave up and vanished, I feared today might greet me with both life and death.

"A girl," someone announced.

Eyes dripping with sweat, I tried to look finally.

"Bring it here," Mother ordered.

My struggles to sit up proved useless. I crashed back down again. The baby's cries were the sweetest sounds I had ever heard. They punctuated the panting and groans of the night, fluttering to my ears with a sweet sense of relief.

And as the world dimmed, guilt came with it, for what would become of us—me and this child—once we were no longer safe here, hidden away in winter?

My lashes heavy from sweat and defeat, I lay back to take a much-needed rest. A glance at my Arabella revealed tears in her eyes when a midwife whispered to her, words too soft to reach my ears.