“Fuck these godsdamned traditions!”

  Leo’s shouting rattled through the stone halls of Morn?ngstar House. My sister’s temper could wake the dead, which, considering our family, wasn’t entirely impossible. I let my head fall back against the chair and groaned. Every time she picked a fight with Mother, it somehow became my problem. Morn?ngstar House wasn’t built for peace; the place carried arguments in its bones. You could hear yesterday’s shouting if you listened hard enough. I knew what came next: footsteps pounding up the corridor, frantic knocking, and my sister begging me to smuggle her out before she was found. She never learned.

  When the first knock hit, I was already unlocking my window.

  “If I die tomorrow, you’re fucked, Leo!” I shouted toward the door. The key turned; she burst inside, red-faced and breathless.

  “Mum kept going on about the Krovposvet again. How we should be grateful to offer ourselves for the gods' blessing.”

  Her glare could’ve cut glass, but the edges softened just enough for me to see the panic underneath. A disaster wrapped in defiance. No matter how loud she yelled, Leo always looked small when the topic turned to the ritual. Tomorrow night, the one we’d trained for since childhood. That night, only one of us would survive. The night only she would survive, I had already made up my mind on that point. If one of us could make a difference by staying alive, it’s her. I’m not gonna pass up that chance for her to see all her ideals through; she just needs more time.

  “And you called her a liar,” I asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow. “Hypocrite,” she corrected. “Much more accurate.”

  I sighed. “Subtle as always.”

  “Do you ever get tired of fighting?” I asked.

  “Do you ever get tired of giving up?” she shot back with a glare.

  She had a point. With how different the two of us are, I forget we’re twins. I certainly wasn’t the one who stood up to our mother, the self-appointed matriarch, every other day. I like to think she does it to protect me, like the older sister she is, but I am not entirely sure. She very well could just be doing it to prove her point. I would feel horrible if I hadn’t already accepted just how complacent I was. As much as I agree with her that this family is a bunch of sadistic lunatics, I’ve realized there is nothing I can do about it. Some people are a tad too far gone. I rubbed a hand over my face.

  “Look, can you just lay low for tonight? Please? It’s the one evening I’d like to survive without a family crisis.”

  She tilted her head. “You’ve got plans?” “Maybe.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Not a chance.” Leo folded her arms and leaned against the doorframe, the picture of stubbornness. “You’re terrible at lying, you know that?”

  “Better than you are at staying out of trouble.”

  That earned me a half-smile, the kind that said she’d won anyway. I crossed to the window and pushed it open wider. Cool air swept in, stirring the candlelight. “Go on. I’ll cover for you. But you need to be back by nine.”

  “Why nine?”

  “For once in your life, just listen to me, Leo,” I snapped in her direction.

  I knew very well that it was a futile fight, but if today was my last day on this earth, I wasn’t going to back down.

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  “What could you, of all people, have to do that is oh so important?”

  The mockery dripped from her words, and if I didn’t know better, I would suspect there to be a stain on the carpet. I didn’t answer her, refusing to entertain her when she was acting like this. All these arguments had taught me that even though she was older, she rarely acted like more than a stubborn child.

  Her eyes narrowed, studying me like she could peel the answer off my skin. Then she held out her hand.

  “Give me your spare key.”

  I hesitated. “You’ll lose it.”

  “I’ll treasure it forever.”

  “Same thing.”

  Still, I tossed it to her. She caught it easily, spinning it once between her fingers before clutching it tight. For a second, the noise of the house faded. There were just the two of us and the faint sound of the wind on the other side of this prison. I should’ve said something then. I should’ve told her I wasn’t afraid, or that I forgave her, or that I hoped she’d live a long, ordinary life after the gods were done with me. But the words stuck somewhere between my throat and my pride.

  Instead, I said, “Try not to set anything on fire while I’m gone.” Leo’s grin was sharp enough to draw blood. “No promises.”

  And then she was out the window. Gone in a flutter of skirts and cold air.

  The room felt emptier the moment she left. I stood there for a long time, staring after her. Morn?ngstar House creaked like it was listening. I turned and began packing my bag for the night. There’s no way I was paying Vesgrad prices at the tavern. Carefully, I placed two bottles of firewine in my satchel. Wrapping them up in wet cloth. After a bottle exploded and ignited my last satchel, it was a precaution I took pretty seriously. I sat down, elbows on my knees, staring at the floorboards. Every year of my life has led to the eve of the Krovposvet, the slaughter that blessed our family. Tomorrow, Leo was supposed to kill me.

  The worst part? I’ve already decided to let her. The thought was calming but wrong. I had no right laying down a sword I had never used to fight. Leo should have that choice, not me, but I’m not sure I can bring myself to kill her. I really needed tonight to get my mind off of things, give myself the chance to make a decision tomorrow.

  The urge to stay cooped up in my room and sulk was strong, but I couldn’t

  Azure, a usually friendly and, ironically enough, bubbly elemental, has been planning this get-together for a few weeks, and I know that if I didn't show up, she would drown me in my sleep. Something she had threatened plenty of times before when I had cancelled on her plans: elementals and their temper. Azure’s probably my closest friend, poor girl. She has no idea what’s coming.

  My mind thought the silence gave ample time to reconsider how to break the news that I was planning on letting her kill me tomorrow. To let her win. I have run the conversation through several times over the last few days; I've yet to come up with a decent solution. After a bottle or two, I’m sure I’d figure it out, but I don’t trust myself not to break her heart. If I were a braver man, I’m sure I would have come right out and said it like it is. Invite her to my own funeral and give her flowers to say goodbye.

  For how many years have you wanted to give her flowers?

  That little annoying voice echoed in my head. Like I hadn’t thought about this exact thing a million times before, I just had to remind myself of how miserable my social life is. Unwelcome memories rarely come alone, I realized when another one came rushing back to me. The day I had convinced myself that giving her those flowers was a good idea, and had shown up with fresh lilies at her door. Only to find out she’s extremely allergic, and her father came to shoo me away. After all these years, I pray she doesn’t remember.

  The last thing I want to do is hurt her. I’d rather chop my own horns off than do anything to make her cry, even if I couldn’t stop what was going to happen tomorrow.

  I suppose I could ask Leo to chop the horns off my cold, dead body.

  The macabre thought snuck up on me before I could stop myself, and I couldn’t help but laugh. I slung the satchel over my shoulder and caught my reflection in the window. Pale, tired eyes, dark horns, the faint glint of the family sigil at my collar. The markings of a Morn?ngstar. The markings of a curse.

  “Last night alive,” I muttered, “try not to waste it.”

  A futile attempt to give myself the courage I didn’t have.

  As I stepped onto the sill, the night breathed against my face, cold and clean. Somewhere in the distance, laughter drifted up from the lower streets. Real laughter, human laughter, the kind that didn’t echo off marble.

  I smiled despite myself. “Don’t burn the place down,” I said to the empty room, pretending Leo could still hear me.