A Dark and Drowning Tide

by Allison Saft

“Look at her,” Sylvia said with true wonder in her voice. “Isn’t she magnificent?” No, Lorelei wanted to say. She’s dreadful.

To know Sylvia saw through her was almost too mortifying to bear. That old, petty part of Lorelei wanted to loom over her, to threaten her, to do anything and everything in her power to prove her wrong. But she was too exhausted to argue anymore.

Once, all of them had been royalty. This was what he’d reduced them to: dogs fighting for scraps.

Steeling herself, she stood and crept out of the mist, clutching the knife as hard as she dared. It felt impossibly heavy in her hands. It felt like judgment.

“One word from you, and I shall be the happiest woman in the universe.” “What.” “Not that one,” Sylvia said.