They stood on the cobblestones in their traveling cloaks, Sanna and Meeka, side by side. The woman walked a slow half circle around them. Looking. The lamp caught the red lining of Meeka's cloak, the silver pin at Sanna's collar, the trunks visible through the open boot of the carriage.
"The firstborn," the woman said. "Which one."
The question sat in the street between them.
Sanna felt Meeka draw breath beside her. She squeezed her hand once, hard, and then let go.
"I am," Sanna said.
The woman looked at her.
"Sanna—" Meeka's voice was very low.
"I am the firstborn Von Vellacourt." Sanna looked at the woman directly, her chin level, her hands at her sides. "My name is Meeka Ivory Von Vellacourt. This is my sister."
The silence stretched.
The woman looked at her for a long time wi
