The Forgotten Sisters by Shannon Hale

Miri’s boot on her head.
    â€œNot yet,” said Miri. “Watch your toes. In a long skirtyou’d trip stomping like that. Your body should make a straight line from your feet through your hips and up your neck.”
    â€œWho says that’s the right way of being?” asked Astrid. She swatted her dark, matted hair over her shoulder. “What if I like how I am, what if I don’t want to be Asland’s idea of a lady?”
    â€œThe point of education is to learn other ways too. Don’t just assume that all you know is right. Learn more and then choose.”
    Felissa seemed to float as she strolled around the room the way that Miri had taught. “I like how this feels.”
    Astrid blew air out of her lips.
    â€œOn my first day studying at the Queen’s Castle, my tutor Master Filippus told us the story of Lord Aksel who listened,” said Miri.
    â€œOh good, another story,” Astrid muttered.
    Miri pretended not to hear. “Lord Aksel’s tutors and parents taught him Scholarship, Etiquette, and Lordship. But he also listened to the cook, weaver, farmer, carpenter, and all the workers around his estate. Other nobles mocked him as he sat knitting or planting seeds. But when he was called to lead his province to war, he didn’t just know how to stab and shoot. He designed clever war machines for breaking down walls, knit traps, kept his army fed in a harsh winter. Lord Aksel became thegreatest military leader in Danland’s history because he studied much more than how to use weapons.”
    â€œYou want us to believe that if you teach us this silly stuff, someday it may come in handy,” said Astrid. “Mincing properly in slippers will help me sneak up on a duck, perhaps?”
    â€œI’m saying you never know,” said Miri. “Think of learning as storing up supplies you may need for a harsh winter.”
    â€œThat’s logical.” Sus spoke the new word as if she loved its taste on her tongue.
    Miri opened to the genealogy charts in
The History of Danland
.
    â€œThose are your ancestors. Look, here’s a Queen Astrid! And a Queen Felissa. Ooh, there’s Queen Katarina.”
    Miri told them another story—though this time Astrid did not complain.
    â€œLong ago a queen of Danland birthed twins. Prince Klas was the firstborn and so was heir to the throne. But before his coronation as king, his twin sister, Princess Katarina, forced the old palace physician to declare that she was actually born first. Half of Danland supported Katarina’s claim to the crown, and a vicious civil war erupted. Neighbor butchered neighbor, brother fought brother, till Asland’s streets ran with blood. Katarina was so enraged when her supporters lost that she triedto murder her brother on his throne. In sorrow, Klas’s first act as king was to condemn his twin sister to death.”
    Miri abbreviated the story, because the account in the history book took its time, lingering over every detail, begging its readers to never forget the horrors of a civil war. One country fighting itself, like a man slashing at his own limbs. No borders to hide behind, no places to retreat. Just death and more death.
    All due to one princess.
    The girls were quiet, letting in the sounds of crickets and toads.
    Then Felissa said, “Glad I wasn’t named after her.”
    â€œThey were right to cut off her head,” said Astrid.
    â€œI used to agree,” said Miri. “Then at the Queen’s Castle, Master Filippus taught us, ‘History is written by the victors.’”
    Sus brightened. “I see! We’re learning the story from Klas’s point of view, the way he and his supporters saw it happen.”
    â€œImagine if Katarina had won the war and her children had inherited the throne,” said Miri. “What might the history books say then?”
    Astrid gestured dramatically. “After years of threatened silence,