The Red Dress
DALI
The dress was red.
Maridale would have chosen something quieter. Maridale always chose something quieter. But Maridale was not here and Dali had been waiting long enough to wear red.
She stood in front of the mirror and thought about the amulet.
It was close. She could feel it. She had been patient for a very long time.
Tamal believed the amulet would make them whole. One person. Permanent. No more splitting, no more surfacing and submerging and losing hours to the other one. She could see the conviction in his face every time the subject arose.
She had never corrected him.
What she did wonder, occasionally, was whether he was simply stupid enough to believe that if the amulet made them one person it would be Maridale who survived. She was the stronger one. Anyone paying attention could see that. Maridale faded. Maridale tired. Maridale let people in.
Dali did not do any of those things.
But then again, Tamal was not stupid. Which meant either he had not thought it through or he knew something she did not.
She did not like that second possibility.
Maridale stirred somewhere below. Dali ignored it.
She adjusted the neckline of the dress and looked at herself in the mirror and thought about Yorali. About what she was owed. About the years she had spent in this divided body in this dark place waiting.
She frowned in the mirror. The dress would look better with more jewels. Sarenal was known for its jewels and treasure. She was finding Morrath rather unimpressive.
She sighed. Revenge first, then home.
She smiled at her reflection and walked out of the room.