Sometimes, when the sun made her dizzy and her skin burned and peeled and there was no water to spare, Jae thought about revenge. She was in charge of the estate’s grounds, and here in the garden, a cactus loomed over her work. Decades old, it overshadowed everything but the fountain. Back when it still rained, the cactus had grown enormous red flowers. Now there was no rain, there were no flowers, but the spines still grew, some of them as long as Jae’s hand and as thick as her finger.

She tossed weeds into a sack so she could drag them out back, but she eyed the cactus for a long moment before turning away. She’d never be able to get her hands on a real weapon, but if she ever had a few minutes of freedom from the Curse, she could do damage with one of those spines.

“Jae? Jae! There you are! Don’t move!”

Jae’s body went stone still at the unexpected order, which locked her in place where she knelt. She could only shift her gaze to look up. Lady Shirrad was already moving away from the window she’d yelled from, leaving the faded gold curtains swaying in her wake. So Jae waited, using the moment to catch her breath. As orders went, just waiting wasn’t so bad. Not yet, anyway. Though if Lady Shirrad was looking for her, it was to give Jae yet another task.

The Lady strode into the courtyard a minute later, the scent of noxious perfume accompanying her. That meant bad news. Lady Shirrad only covered herself in perfume when there wasn’t enough water to bathe. That meant there would be even less water for Jae to use in the garden this evening—and less for Jae and the other Closest to drink.

The sneer on Lady Shirrad’s face made her look older than seventeen. She and Jae had been born within a day of each other, but that was all they had in common. Lady Shirrad’s features were softer, her skin a lighter brown, and she wore an embroidered red robe with sandals, where Jae had only a stained, shapeless tan dress and bare feet.

Hand on her hip, Lady Shirrad declared, “This garden looks horrible—like it’s dead.”

Jae just waited, still kneeling. The Curse didn’t allow her to speak in front of anyone Avowed unless it was to answer a direct question. Lady Shirrad was right, though. The courtyard garden wasn’t much to look at anymore—an open, square space in the middle of the building, with red and orange rocks ringing the cactus and a few scraggly bushes. The bushes’ leaves were brown now, dying, just like the few tufts of grass that had fought their way up through the stones and sand.

Jae could just remember the way grass had covered the whole courtyard when she’d been a child, and that there had been real flowers. Those had died off years ago. Years before that, according to her mother, the fountain set back in one corner of the courtyard had actually worked, with fresh water flowing down into its trough, free for anyone to drink—even the Closest. Now the fountain was just an oddly shaped sculpture of four columns overlapping one another and linked together in the middle, representing the four elements that mages had once called upon for magic.

“I have guests coming, and it can’t look like this when they arrive. What can you do about it?” Lady Shirrad continued.

Jae braced herself as she answered. The Curse forced all of the Closest to tell the truth as well as they knew it, but the truth didn’t always make Lady Shirrad happy. This certainly wouldn’t: “Without more water, I can’t do anything at all, Lady.”

Lady Shirrad narrowed her eyes, an expression that was usually accompanied by a sharp slap. But thankfully, she only said, “Then use what you need to, but don’t you dare waste a single drop.”

The weight of the order gripped Jae like stone sandals, so heavy that she’d barely be able to trudge forward until the order was completed or lifted.

“I can’t have Aredann looking like this when they arrive. I don’t even want to think about it. Do you understand?” Lady Shirrad demanded.

“Yes, Lady,” Jae said, understanding what mattered: the order she’d been given, and that Lady Shirrad would be even more frantic and impossible than usual until her guests had come and gone again. Lady Shirrad had been Aredann’s Avowed guardian—its absolute ruler—since her father had passed away when she was thirteen, and she hadn’t had many visitors since. No one seemed to want to travel as far as Aredann, especially during the drought.

“Good. Now get to it.” Lady Shirrad started back to the arched entryway, but then paused, her hand on her hip and her sandal tapping against the floor. “Do you know where your brother is?”

A bone weariness, worse than any day under the sun, wrapped itself around Jae’s shoulders at the thought of Tal and Lady Shirrad. At least this truth came easily. “No, Lady.”

Lady Shirrad gave her one last scowl at the negative response, then swept out, her swirling robe kicking up dust. Jae finally straightened up, her body protesting the change in position. She took a moment to stretch as she decided how she’d go about her work. The Curse would give her that much freedom, at least. As long as she was working, obeying Lady Shirrad’s orders, she could do what she wished.

She stooped to pick up the last few weeds that had escaped her, annoyed at how those could grow even ages after the last proper plants had died. She’d want them all gone before she claimed one of the clay water jugs from the basement to use on the bushes and grass. There was no point in watering weeds.

At least Lady Shirrad had allowed her the water she needed. After a year of giving Jae only smaller jugs or water skins, barely enough to keep the garden alive, Jae could now use whatever she required. But rather than being a relief, that tiny bit of freedom left Jae dry, brittle. More water for the garden meant less for the livestock and the fields, less for cooking, less for bathing and cleaning. Less to drink. There simply wasn’t enough to go around, and Lady Shirrad’s order meant she cared more about impressing her guests than she did about keeping the Closest slaves from getting sunsick as they worked.

The garden’s life was more important than Jae’s own. Jae glanced at the overgrown cactus again as she hauled the sack of weeds out, stooping under the weight of her orders, and under the weight of the Curse of obedience that compelled all Closest.

The sinking sun stained the garden bright orange, and Jae shielded her eyes. Even her dark skin practically glowed under the intense light as she set about watering the garden, trying to save the dying grass.