But every night, just before sleep, they check the locks.
Lira, the white, spoke in hymns. She could calm storms with a lullaby and had once made a dying wolf pup lick her hand. Lyra, the red, carried a scar from brow to chin — a mark she’d given herself to stop men from confusing her with her sister. She sharpened her tongue on silence and kept a knife in her corset. twin roses a mad eagle 39-s obsession pdf
He laughed. A mad, dry sound like stones falling down a well. But every night, just before sleep, they check the locks
But roses remember they have thorns.
And somewhere, in a city by the sea, two women with identical faces and different scars drink wine and laugh at the story of the mad eagle who thought he could own the sky. Lyra, the red, carried a scar from brow