up. Before you attract flies.”
“Funny,” Tobias scoffed. “Hilarious, really.”
He navigated his way through the space, weaving around their wooden table and past the crowded kitchen with an acquired agility. The cottage was cramped, a single room functioning as many: the entryway was a dining room barely comfortable for three, and behind that was the sitting room—a lone wooden chair resting atop a faded rug. In the back were three small beds, two on the left and one on the right, as if the division could somehow create the illusion of privacy. It didn’t.
Tobias stationed himself in the corner beside the only window the cottage had to offer. A ceramic pitcher and basin sat on its ledge, and he pulled his shirt overhead before washing his hands, chest, and face, digging his fingers into his skin as if the filth had traveled beneath his flesh. He plopped the pitcher into the basin and shook himself like a dog, his mop of hair sending water splattering in every direction. Still, he didn’t feel clean. These days, he never did.
Dinner was nearly ready, and Tobias hurried to his bed, plucking a clean shirt from his sheets and sliding it on. It was identical to the one he had just been wearing, the same bland, cream color, sleeveless and faded. A varying wardrobe was of little use to a laborer, so Tobias wore the same shirts, the same leather sandals, the same brown harem pants, fitted in the legs and loose in the lap, day after day.
His shoulders tensed. A line of canvas rolls were leaning against the foot of his bed, yellowed with age, and beside them sat a pile of loose, brittle paintbrushes. He should’ve thrown them out a long time ago, but a voice in the back of his mind insisted he wait just one more day, then another, and another. He turned away.
The table was set bearing slightly more food than usual. Naomi waited by the fire, fiddling with her pot of boiled something—potatoes, most likely—and instead of their similarities, Tobias saw their subtle differences that had only emerged these past two years. Their wavy, chocolate-brown hair had once looked identical, but now Naomi’s was muted, while Tobias’s shined with hints of gold in the sun. And their skin, once a matching shade of olive, was now at opposition: Naomi’s was pale, while Tobias’s was warm and tan. The change was a product of their circumstances—a reflection of how different their lives had become.
Tobias hunched down beside his sister. “Ready?”
“Not quite.”
“That’s unfortunate.” He threaded his arms around her and hoisted her from her seat, sending her squealing and throwing her arms around his neck.
“Toby!” She smacked his head with her wooden spoon. “You ass!”
He laughed. “I prefer ass over Toby.”
She tightened her grip on his shoulders, but he kept his hold loose, gentle. He had learned to pay special attention to her body, to treat her as fragile without her knowing. From the waist up she was warm and vital, and from the waist down she was a bag of bones, her legs hanging limply from his arms. He hoped one day he’d grow accustomed to her new body—that his heart wouldn’t break when he touched her—but that day hadn’t yet come.
Carefully, Tobias rested his sister in her seat, situating her legs before taking his place across from her. His mother was already seated, gazing at the head of the table—at the seat where her husband used to sit. For two years that seat had been empty, and for two years Tobias had caught her staring at it before each meal.
Her eyes flitted toward him, and she cleared her throat, ending her trance. She clasped her hands together and bowed her head, and her children followed suit.
“Today we celebrate the birth of our Savior, the one true Savior until Her divinity is passed. We thank You for Her life, Her dominion, and for the peace and prosperity She has brought upon our realm. May She feel our gratitude and know our love. Blessed Day.”
“Blessed Day,” Tobias and Naomi said in unison.
They ate in silence, though Tobias knew it wouldn’t last. He chewed slowly, listening to the utensils clicking against plates, relishing the simplicity that would inevitably end.
Soon enough, his mother stirred in his peripheral vision.
“This holiday has become so strange ever since our Savior was crowned,” she said. “It’s hard to decide whether we should celebrate Her birth or mourn the death of Her Predecessor.”
Tobias kept his eyes on his