Before I was six, I hated my sister, because even though we were twins, I always lived in her shadow.Every morning there was only one cup of moonflower tea in the house, and it always went to Elena's side.The living room walls were covered in her photos: newborn, first birthday, silver braids, the first time her wings appeared. An entire wall, floor to ceiling. Not a single picture of me.The worst was the nights. Every evening before bed, Mom would sit at Elena's bedside and teach her how to braid runic charms. Silver thread, gold thread, beads of crushed gemstone, one charm after another, until Elena's windowsill was crowded with them in every color, more cheerful than a jewelry shop window.I used to crouch in the doorway and watch. I'd see Mom holding Elena's hands, guiding her through the loops and knots."Wind this one more time, yes, exactly like that."Elena would hold up a lopsided little charm. "Is it pretty, Mom?""It's beautiful." Mom kissed her on the forehead.The child
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