My hand was already resting on the crook of Aaru’s arm. ::Put on a mask.:: I tapped quickly, hoping no one would notice.

Immediately, the discomfort flew from his features. I could still feel the tension in his muscles, and see it in the way he walked, but I doubted anyone else could; they didn’t know him well enough.

I shoved away the nagging feeling that maybe I didn’t know him well enough.

::I’m sorry,:: I said, guiding him toward the food, which seemed the safest route for now. ::I wish you could mourn. If you want to leave, you can.:: After all, he’d come for one reason: the memorial. If he needed to go, I could do the rest on my own.

Besides, I wasn’t completely on my own, was I? Mother was here, and while that fact usually did nothing to comfort me, tonight it helped. For once, I believed she was on my side.

Aaru shook his head. ::Staying.::

“Thank you.” I smiled at him. ::We need to talk aloud. They’ll notice if we don’t.::

“Of course.” His voice was soft and gentle, warming me like a song. ::Who will notice?::

::Everyone.::

His eyes widened for a fraction of a second, but then he smoothed away the alarm and gazed around the room, searching.

When Zara and I had been young, she’d complained that everyone at school looked at her differently—treated her differently—because she was my sister. She said they were always waiting for her to do something wrong so they could pounce and mock, so every day she went to school terrified to be herself.

Mother had taken her aside for a short talk, which I’d overheard because I had my ear pressed to the door. Mother had said that at school, all the other students felt just as awkward and out of place as she did. They all had the same sense of being watched and judged, but it was a false feeling born from insecurity. All the other students, she’d said, were too busy worrying about themselves to bother noticing Zara. Mother said she shouldn’t overthink it.

Even at eleven years old, I had thought Mother was underestimating the other students, but by that time, Zara had already stopped talking to me, so I didn’t offer her my views.

Later, Mother had come to me and given the complete opposite talk. “They are watching you,” she’d said. “At every party, council meeting, and public appearance, they’re waiting for you to make a mistake. You must never show them the true parts of you—the weakest parts—because they’ll find a way to turn them into a weapon.”

After that, I’d begun to notice the eyes. They followed me, yes, but they also watched Mother and Father, and everyone else in the world. I couldn’t imagine how anyone had the energy to guard themselves and look for flaws in others, but clearly they felt it was worth their time. The predators existed at every party, council meeting, and public appearance on every island, just as Mother had said.