The sun was high in the sky, and Zara was out of breath. The winds and forest foliage kept her cool, but it wasn’t like the spring time was scorching hot anyway. Her anklets clinked as she spread her feet apart and stretched her arms out, movements flowing up and down as she refined her moves. Out here dancing in the clearing alone, with deep blue skies and thick white clouds sailing above her, and the enchanting view of the river and the flowery grounds along the mountain trails below, she was happy. The ecstatic feeling would last only as long as she remained out here, so she was savoring it. She was like a whole different being. Not a lonesome young woman. Not a witch. She pretended she was someone worthy of an audience.

The last few days have been hectic as Leyli and her new temporary house staff were in full preparation for the upcoming engagement party. A party that was finally happening today. Rauna, at least, was relieved from the heavy duty work she normally had to do and resigned herself into organizing Leyli’s personally designed scarves and brooches into the guests’ gift bags. There were over a hundred to sort out and Leyli had been working on them for weeks. It seemed she was excited at the chance to grow her business within the family and friends of the family.

Zara was free to leave her room for the day. Even though she was supposed to be helping around the house right now, she would rather stay in the forest. Earlier this morning, Zahir had tasked her with cleaning vegetables and dusting off tables in the courtyard’s makeshift kitchen. But since the place was too chaotic for any of the cooks to notice her, she stole away into the woods, but not before retrieving her anklets first, of course.

Rowan was on sweeping duty, and he didn’t look Zara’s way at all when they passed each other in the foyer. He was too busy diligently wiping the angel shrine to care about where she went. House staff zoomed past left and right, heeding Leyli’s shrill commands. Zara hurried out before anyone else saw her.

It had been hours since then, and she could only stay out of sight for so long. She hadn’t properly danced in broad daylight in forever. The warm sun felt nice on her body. The golden color of her skin seemed to shimmer under the spring light. Some debris flecked her arms, and the soles of her bare feet were soiled. At least most of the ice had melted. Soft grass brushed her toes, spreading across the areas where she’d practiced. She pulled a wet leaf from her braided hair. She would have to change out of her plain white salwar, bathe, and get into the new dress her mother had ready for her upstairs.

Zara wasn’t used to parties. She wasn’t used to being in social crowds, period. The fact that most of her own family members would be attending didn’t really ease her nerves. They were all strangers to her. Even the bride Dolly—a cousin she was once so close to at a younger age. Zara wondered, after years apart, how different the young woman only a year her senior would be today.

It was still unclear whether Naz would show his face, but Zara thought it likely. His presence was what made her most nervous, more so than a dozen hundred strangers staring her in the face trying to remember who the fuck she was to this family.

Zara took one last look around her precious clearing, inhaled a shaky breath, and walked down the slope to retrieve her sandals. Short patches of grass grew beneath each clinking step.

On her way back, Zara saw that the stage crew had arrived and was taking props out of their wagon in front of the house. There was to be a small performance tonight for Dolly and her beau, and it seemed from the looks of things that it may be a play of some sort. She didn’t know the details, since no one told her anything. The stage props the crew brought were furnishings one would see in a home, so she assumed the performance would be a sketch. Leyli once talked about the cute little comedic show about the life of newlyweds at Naz and Sonya’s engagement function. This was a tradition popular at engagement ceremonies, in honor of the betrothed couple. The crew had set up the actual stage in the front fields of the house yesterday, and today they were making the finishing touches. Half of the ten man crew were already in the field, setting up the little stage with a sofa and some oil lamps.

This house, with its expansive semi-isolated lands, was truly perfect for holding big gatherings like this. If it wasn’t for Zara, her mother probably would have taken better advantage to host more. She loved the social scene. But then again, if Zara had been normal, they likely wouldn’t be living away from people like this at all, in this fairly old house of theirs. Leyli had always wanted a home closer to other people, similar to the neighborhood Revan—and apparently, Emran—lived in.

Another carriage pulled in from the road. Zara stopped short. Were these the first guests? The party wouldn’t officially start for another two hours. She caught the scent of the outdoor cooking wafting all the way from where she stood. She could hear the loud commotions of people still getting everything ready.

No way was any of the staff in there finished yet. No way would a guest show up so rudely early. So, who were these people?

The driver opened the door of the large, rather fancy looking carriage. Five tall women dressed in plain colors stepped out, their uniform black hair fashioned into a braid similar to Zara’s. They carried clothing bags and accessory boxes. The ornamented bells on their ankles jingled as they walked.

Zara’s heart rate quickened. These were dancers. Real-life dancers. They were here for the performance tonight. They had to be!

Zara hadn’t thought the stage was for dancers, she’d assumed it was going to be for a play only. But a dance was to be a part of the show as well? Zara felt she hadn’t seen a real dance performance since she’d burst out of her mother’s womb. It had been so long that the memory was hazy. She was sure it was at one of Pria’s cultural spring or summer festivals, and she hadn’t been to any of those since being outcasted as the family freak.

The dancers entered through the open gates. Zahir was there to greet them, and lead them into the house. Zara would have to wait a bit before she could sneak her way in. She was getting more and more worried that someone had noticed her absence. She was supposed to be helping out, after all. Maybe Rowan had snitched? She wouldn’t be surprised, given how bitter he still was about the shattered glass incident. The shattered glass that had also shattered any hope of their sibling relationship forever.

While walking home from her lesson the other morning—the same morning she’d come across Emran—she couldn’t help asking Revan if he’d noticed anything unusual happen to have caused Rowan’s initial coldness towards her. She’d been thinking about what Emran had said, about Rowan sitting at that bar alone feeling sorry for himself, and it made her wonder: if things hadn’t suddenly gone awry with him, would she would have been invited out with him again? Then he wouldn’t have had to be alone. They could faced Naz together, and had each other’s backs. It was a pity that they were driven further apart instead.

“Oh…I wouldn’t know anything about it,” Revan had answered her lightly.

“Really?” she asked, skeptical.

“Well, should I?”

“I was under the impression you had many eyes lurking around town. I wanted to know if you maybe saw something, or noticed someone say something to him to make him act this way?”

“…I only care to watch you, Zara. Not your brother.”

As if that made her feel any better. She’d widened the distance from him, mood soured.

Zara managed to make it through the gates without anyone seeing her. A glint at the side of the pebbly walkway caught her attention. She walked over to investigate and saw a golden tiara tikli laying on a patch of dirt. She was about to bend down to pick it up when the sound of anklet bells approached her.

“Oh!” a voice exclaimed. “You’ve found it.”

Zara almost jumped out of her skin as one of the dancers from earlier hurried over and picked up her lost jewelry.

“I was so worried,” she said. “I’d felt something fall out of my bag, but thought it was my imagination. It wasn’t, obviously. I did a stupid thing this morning and shoved my entire jewelry box in with my clothes bag—don’t ask, I was lazy and in a hurry. But anyway, when I open the bag, what do you know?” She laughed. “My box came open and all my jewels for tonight were everywhere. It’s a mess. I’m trying to sort it all out now.” Her laugh was high in pitch and in clear annoyance at herself. She was also very talkative to someone she didn’t even know at all.

Zara supposed some people were like that. This woman, though, was beautiful. She was tall and thin, similar to the other dancers that had come with her—though a couple of them were curvier around the hips. She had high cheekbones, full lips, and arching brows. Her skin on her face and body was a smooth tan and hairless, making Zara feel a little self-conscious about herself.

The woman looked at Zara, throwing her long black braid over her shoulder.

“Is there something on my face?” the woman asked, touching her cheek.

Zara immediately shook her head, startled. “Huh? No.”

“You’re looking at me like I’ve grown a lump. My goodness, wouldn’t that be a nightmare?” She laughed sweetly. “Who are you, by the way?” She eyed Zara’s clothes. “Hm, you’re not dressed in those dreadful grays like the rest of the working staff here.”

“I live here.”

“Oh! But…you’re not the bride-to-be I’m guessing?” she teased.

Zara cracked a smile. “No. My cousin is.”

“Well, we’ll make sure to give you both a good show.” She touched her tilted head in a quick, casual greeting. “I’m Shyla. Nice to meet you.”

Zara returned the gesture. “I’m Zara.”

Shyla smiled at Zara’s feet. “I like your anklets.”

“Thank you. I like yours better.” They’re real.

“Do you dance as well?”

Zara’s cheeks warmed. “Oh, no.” She shook her head “Well…yes actually. Just not professionally, like you.” She smiled again, feeling a bit of excitement from having an actual dancer conversing with her. “It must be nice though, to dance for a living.”

Shyla shrugged. “The world of dance can be tough sometimes, but yes. Are you interested in becoming a dancer?”

At first Zara didn’t know how she should respond. But after a quick thought, she doubted this conversation would reach the ears of her father or anybody important. She nodded.

Shyla brightened at that. “Will you be performing something for the party then?”

Zara gasped. “Oh, no no! I couldn’t do that. Again, I’m not refined or anything. I can’t perform and no one really knows that I dance.”

She blurted too much, for Shyla’s brows furrowed in confusion. “No one…knows? But if you wish to become a dancer, then why would no in your home be aware of your—”

“Zara!?” Leyli’s loud screech could be heard from the open front door, from all the way down the main hall. “Zara!? Where is that girl?”

Zara needed to leave before Leyli actually stepped into the hall and saw her standing outside where she didn’t belong. In a way, she was relieved for the abrupt interruption. As much as she wanted to keep talking to the dancer, Zara felt she would reveal things better left unexplained.

“Sorry, I have to go. My mother’s calling. Please don’t tell her I was here,” she said over her shoulder as she ran inside. She didn’t even wait to hear Shyla’s reply; there was no time. She just hoped the dancer would comply with her plea. She raced upstairs just as Leyli’s footsteps exited the parlor and entered the hall. The clanking bells of her anklets had never annoyed Zara before, but it was annoying her now with how obvious it was with every step she took.

Luckily, she made into her room on time to hide them away and check the mirror for stray leaves and dirt on her person.

Leyli slammed open the bedroom door.

“How many times do I have to call your name before you respond?!” she yelled.

“Sorry—”

“I was looking everywhere for you until one of the cooks told me you’d run off. I need you to try on the dress I made you. Do you not feel the need to be proper? Do you think we have all the time in the world to lounge around before this party starts?”

“I wasn’t—”

“I’m sick and tired of this, I’ve been running around screaming all day so get DOWNSTAIRS and wash yourself up, now!”

Biting her lip, Zara passed the flustered woman and went back downstairs. She walked by a confused Shyla in the hall, but did not make eye contact.

“I can’t stand the thought of what people might say if she shows her face. Dolly is just unreasonable. I told her last night, yet again, that Zara is no longer the girl she thinks she used to be. But no. That damn daughter of mine is so stubborn. This is her day. I will not have anything ruin it.”

Zara played with the ends of her shawl, pretending Noina wasn’t talking about her even though they were both in the same dining room. The table was packed with finished platters, and the party was about to start. Noina had arrived not too long before, and she was already making a fuss before the first real guests had even arrived.

“Noina,” Leyli warned. “Keep your voice down, please. We still have staff walking about.”

“And what of the boy?” Noina growled. “He’s practically rabid after what he’s done to Nazeer. What if he lashes out on the guests?”

Leyli frowned. “I’ve already talked to Rowan about it.” She stole a glance at Zara, but didn’t expand further on the subject. “He’ll keep his temper under control today. We’ll make sure of it.”

What had they talked about? Surely, Rowan had to have blamed Zara for what happened to Naz, but it seemed like he was just written off as temperamental instead. Although Zara was supposedly the “evil witch” here, it seemed everyone was willing to believe Rowan was the vicious attacker only if Naz said so.

“And if that doesn’t work? It’s not him I’m particularly worried about. A stupid boy with a violent anger issue, I can handle. It’s her and the—” Noina was considerate enough to whisper her next words, “—demons she carries with her.” The distraught hag was practically in tears.

“Noina,” Leyli spoke sympathetically. “Rowan needs to be here. Zara needs to be here too, at your daughter’s request. She wants the whole family with her. This isn’t about what you want. It’s important that every one of us be present, otherwise there will be gossip. Especially if the bride-to-be is wandering around her own engagement, upset.”

“Don’t think I’m unaware! Though I still believe making an excuse for Zara’s absence would’ve done some good in the end. Like, she’d caught an illness or…or…”

Noina sighed, defeated. She stomped towards Zara sitting at the head of the dining table.

Zara coldly stared up at her aunt.

“Whatever it is you’re thinking of conjuring up, don’t bother yourself. I’ve burnt black oil cloths outside of my home for the past week, as a protection measure for my family. And look here.” Noina lifted her embroidered skirt to reveal a thick black thread tied around her ankle. No doubt she’d soaked it in red chili water, as a way to combat any effect black magic could have on her. Zara almost visibly snickered. As if that superstitious nonsense would do anything. Not that Zara was even planning to sabotage this party in the first place.

“My poor daughter’s pure, hopeful face at the thought of seeing you again. You’re lucky Dolly is stuck on her childhood memories of you,” Noina sneered. “I can’t go against that precious woman’s wish. Otherwise, I would have insisted you stay locked away. A murderous witch has no need for family.”

“Noina!” Leyli shouted.

Without much hesitance, Zara replied, “Are you sure that is the right way to speak to a ‘murderous witch’?”

She had expected it, but the slap to her cheek still managed to make her flinch. Zara fought the urge to caress her stinging face.

“Noina, stop!” Leyli dragged the other woman away. “What are you thinking? You could have left a mark on her!”

Noina scowled, tearing herself away from the grasp. “What about it? Did you hear what just came out of that mouth?” She pulled out a black string from the breast of her blouse. “Put this on her. Wrist, ankle, neck, I don’t care. I purified it in the oil I used to burn the cloth last night, along with clean water and many prayers. Restrain her with this. I’ll be in the parlor, praying. Dolly and her betrothed will be here soon.”

She left the flimsy-looking string in Leyli’s open palm and hurried out. Zara scoffed when her mother held the string up to her.

“Give me your wrist,” she ordered.

Zara held out her wrist. Leyli pushed the purple and gold bangles further up Zara’s forearm before tying the stupid thread on her. The string was covered once the bangles settled back over her wrist. Zara shook the jewelry, as if interested in its ability to conceal something so worthless. Her gaze locked onto her mother.

“Ma,” she said, “why am I still here?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why did you keep me, when you had so many chances to get rid of me? Besides that night Baba tried throwing me out, and even then, it didn’t seem like you wanted to be rid of me but…you do. Don’t you?”

Zara kept her voice low, but for once, she didn’t quiver over the repercussions of asking such a question. She’d been wanting to know this for a long time, from the perspectives of both her parents who never gave her straightforward replies. Right now, she wanted to know what her mother would say about it. She’d finally worked up the courage to just ask. The more time passed here, and the more Zara learned about herself, the less there was to fear. It was a very slow progress still, but progress nonetheless.

Leyli raised her brows, and her gaze went soft. There was a sadness in her eyes, and given how the woman had treated her so far, Zara was having trouble figuring out why.

“I don’t want you to die,” Leyli said. “You are my child, despite what you are, despite how upset it makes me. You still are my child.”

“Does Baba feel that way?” Zara didn’t think so. She also didn’t comprehend her mother’s thoughts. It didn’t make sense to her.

“I don’t know. I never asked him. I’m too afraid to.” Leyli knelt down in front of Zara, gently touching the right wrist where she had tied on the thread.

“It’s difficult for me, Zara. And that makes me angry. When I get angry, I take it out on you. I know you it makes you sad, but, it’s all because of you. All of this is…unfair, I feel. For both me as a mother, and you as my daughter. I feel like I’ve been robbed. I was robbed of the girl I’ve always wanted. A girl I’ve wanted to raise into a fine young woman, and eventually, a bride and a mother herself. We can’t spend any time together. We can’t have any of that. It’s unfair.

“I don’t want you to be taken away to death, like that boy. I don’t want to see it happen, truthfully. But I also don’t want myself or my family in danger. Of both the law, and of you. You have always been the biggest danger to us, especially now, with your erratic use of magic? Why would you do that? I don’t know what’s the matter with you. Why you refuse to restrain yourself and just be normal, but here we are. And I still want you here. I don’t know. Sometimes…I wish you’d been born a different person.”

Leyli’s quiet rant came to an end. She slowly stood, straightening out her beige and blue skirt. She walked out of the dining room without a regard to her daughter’s tears.