“He’s only ever been kind to us. And I know you hate his poems, but I think it might be nice, you know. To have someone write poems about me. To be … seen, I suppose, like that. Like an angel, or a queen.” There are a great many songs written about sisters, and a great many stories, too, and most often they turn on jealousy, on pettiness, on spite. Just as often as there are cruel stepmothers in ballads there are older sisters jealous of the younger, coveting their looks, their lands, their lovers. Esther looked at her sister—her beautiful, brilliant sister, talented and generous and funny and
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