Isla rose to greet them, embracing them both warmly, though their presence brought a sharp pang of longing to her chest. They looked so content—so complete in their joy. It was impossible not to feel a little envious.
“You are both glowing,” Isla said softly, meaning it. “Marriage suits you.” She smiled. “And father is not at home. He had business in London, but I suspect that Maeve is correct. He does enjoy his solitude; however, I have no doubt he misses you both.”
Athena squeezed her hand. “I do recommend marriage—at least to the right man. I hope you find your match one day.”
Isla opened her mouth to respond—perhaps to deflect, perhaps to deny—but Maeve interrupted gently.
“We’ve been speaking of Mama’s journal,” she said, settling into a chair near the hearth. “We hoped you have found time to read it, but we understand if you are taking your time. We both did.”
Athena nodded. “And it is important that you read it when the time is right for you.”
“I was never certain I wished to read her words. I feared it might hurt more than it would heal.” Isla shook her head and sighed. “But I was wrong to wait. I have started reading it and you are right that it is important. Her words…” Isla’s voice trailed off.
“Leave you breathless,” Maeve urged gently. “There is something there meant for each of us in that journal, have you just started reading it?”
Athena’s expression sobered. “It helped me see my own path, and I think it will help you too.”
Isla blinked. “I am almost finished with it, and I think you are right. It has helped me see what I should do?” She did not tell them that she had read every word. Isla did not know why she held that back. Perhaps because she was not ready to fully discuss what her mother had written.
Athena nodded. “I do not wish to rush you….” She nibbled on her lip. “But…”
“It’s the prophecy,” Maeve said. Of course they wished to discuss that part of their mother’s journal. Isla was still contemplating the meaning of it and just nodded at Maeve as if encouraging her to continue speaking. “You must read it. Promise us that you will.”
“I… I promise.” Isla frowned, but because she misunderstood. No, she frowned because she hated lying to her sisters. “Should I be concerned?”
They both shook their head, but it was Athena that answered. “No, I do not think you should worry at all, but it will give you insight.” She glanced at Maeve. “It is what led us to the men we both adore, and I think, that it will help you with your duke.”
Isla sighed. “I am not so certain about that…” A lot of hurt still laid between her and Lucian. “But I promise I will read it”
“That is all we can ask,” Maeve said softly. “And if after you read it you wish to talk…”
“I know where to find you both.” She smiled at them. “I will be all right. Neither of you need worry about me.”
“We cannot help it,” Athena said. “We love you.”
She smiled at them both. Isla adored both of her sisters, and she was so happy they had found love. She was not as certain as they appeared to be that she would have that for herself. Her chance had come and gone, and she had the heartbreak to remind her of that loss.
The visit with Athena and Maeve was far too brief, but it had been filled with laughter and memories. Once the door closed behind them, Isla was left in silence once more. She hesitated only a moment before retrieving the leather-bound journal. Her hands trembled slightly as she opened the worn cover and turned the pages, the ink faded but legible. Then she found it—the entry they had mentioned to her—the prophecy—the words that had been haunting her since she had first read them.
One day, they will find men to love them. I’ve seen that too. Fear of the future will delay the first, and temptation will be too much for one twin, and heartbreak will be another’s undoing. In the end, if they choose the right path, it will lead to a happy future, and even if our family’s supposed magical abilities haunt them, that love will be enough to guide them.
Isla’s breath caught. Fear of the future… It felt as though the words had been written for her. She set the journal in her lap, her thoughts troubled as she considered the words in her mother’s journal. Was her fear of the future—of losing Lucian, of giving him her heart once more—delaying the very happiness her mother had foreseen? Had heartbreak undone her, just as her mother had said it would? She closed her eyes, feeling tears sting the corners. What if love truly was enough?
Did Lucian truly still love her? And what if… just once… she allowed herself to believe? The thought stirred something warm in her chest, something that refused to be extinguished, no matter how fiercely she tried to bury it. Hope—damnable, beautiful hope.
She knew what she had to do—where she had to go. Isla picked up Lucian’s missive once more, read it, and then held it against her chest. Her heart beat heavily inside her chest. Even though rain threatened to fall at any moment, she had to go to him. It was time to listen to him and then decide if they had a future together. Because she loved him, had always loved him, and if there was even a small chance of them finding happiness she had to take it.
Seven
The sky was thick with the promise of rain, and the air was cool, carrying with it the scent of wet earth and greenery. Isla Thompson walked swiftly, her breath quickening with anticipation, though her heart beat with a hesitant rhythm. She was determined. Determined to meet Lucian as he had asked, determined to find the words that had been kept locked inside her heart for far too long.
The willow tree stood ahead, its long, trailing branches hanging low, swaying gently in the breeze. It had always been a place of solace, a place of memories—a place where she had once believed in the power of love and promises. She could not count how many hours she had spent beneath this very tree with Lucian, dreaming of a future they would never have.
But now, after all the years and all the heartache, she was ready. She had come to terms with the fact that no matter the dangers or uncertainties, she loved him, and that love was worth the risk. If he had come to her, asking for a second chance, then she was willing to give him one. She would find him beneath the tree and tell him—tell him that she loved him, that she was willing to try again, that she could no longer live with the regret of what could have been.
As she neared the tree, a shadow moved from the underbrush, and Isla froze. A chill swept over her as a man stepped into her path. His features were obscured by the hood of his dark cloak, but there was no mistaking that it was not who she had intended to meet. This man was not Lucian and she did not recognize him. Isla’s blood ran cold as her gaze met the grim, calculating eyes of the stranger.
“Lady Isla,” the man said with a sneer, his voice carrying a venomous edge that sent a shiver down her spine. “So lovely to see you, though I had hoped it would not come to this.” His eyes, a cold blue, sent shivers over her. “But I’m afraid I must insist you come with me. My dear nephew has made a mistake—one he must pay for.”
