Lydia stared at her, tears spilling down her cheeks. “Ye really would, wouldnae ye? Even if it means ruinin’ everythin’?”
“What are they goin’ to do?” Iris asked dryly, referring to their parents. “Disown me? Make me more of a scandal than I already am?” She managed a wry smile. “I’m already the spinster daughter who threw away a perfectly good betrothal. What’s one more black mark against me name?”
Despite her tears, Lydia laughed shakily. “God, Iris, I wish I were as brave as ye are.”
“Ye are brave,” Iris insisted. “Ye’re just... kinder than me. Gentler, and that’s nae a weakness, even if our parents act like it is.”
Lydia wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, smearing the kohl their mother had carefully applied earlier. “What if he doesnae want a kind, gentle wife? What if he wants someone strong like ye?”
“Then he picked the wrong sister,” Iris said. “But Lydia, most mendo want gentle wives. They want someone who’ll make them feel powerful and needed; that’s somethin’ ye can do without losin’ yerself.”
“And if he’s cruel?”
Iris’ jaw tightened, “Then ye remember that ye have a sister who kens how to throw knives and isnae afraid to use them if someone hurts what’s hers.”
The threat was only half-joking, and they both knew it. Lydia squeezed Iris’s hands tightly.
“Promise me somethin’,” Lydia whispered.
“Anythin’.”
“If... if somethin’ happens to me, if things go badly tomorrow or in the days after... promise me ye willnae blame yerself; promise me ye willnae do anythin’ foolish tryin’ to fix what cannae be fixed.”
The words sent a chill down Iris’ spine. “Lydia.”
“Promise me, Iris.”
Something flickered in her sister’s voice that made Iris’ stomach clench with foreboding. Before she could question it further, a knock sounded at the door.
“Miss Lydia? Miss Iris?” Moira’s tentative voice called. “Yer faither’s askin’ for both of ye in his solar. He says it’s urgent.”
The sisters exchanged a look. Their father never summoned them both unless something was seriously wrong.
“We’ll be right there,” Iris called back then helped Lydia to her feet. “Whatever this is about, we’ll face it together. Aye?”
Lydia nodded, but as they made their way to the door, Iris couldn’t shake her unease. Her sister’s words had felt too much like goodbye.
CHAPTER TWO
She knocked softly on Lydia’s chamber door. “Lydia? It’s time to get ready, love.”
The morning of Lydia’s wedding had dawned bright and clear, summer sunshine streaming through the castle windows like a blessing. Iris had barely slept, her mind churning with worry over her sister’s desperate words from the night before.
Their father’s urgent summons had turned out to be nothing more than last-minute details about the feast, but something in Lydia’s eyes had haunted Iris through the dark hours.
Iris knocked a second time. Silence.
“Lydia?” Iris pressed her ear to the wood. No sound of movement, no rustling of bedsheets or the expected flurry of a nervous bride. Her stomach began to clench with dread.
She pushed open the door and stepped inside. The chamber was empty, the bed unslept in, wedding gown still hanging pristine and untouched on its wooden frame. But it was what lay on the writing desk that made Iris’ blood turn to ice.
A single piece of parchment, sealed with Lydia’s ring, bore her name in her sister’s careful script.
With trembling fingers, Iris broke the seal and unfolded the letter.
My dearest Iris,
By the time you read this, I’ll be gone. I can’t do it, me loving sister. I can’t marry him knowing what he might be. The stories Moira told us... they felt like prophecies, not rumors. I’m not brave like you, Iris. I’m not strong enough to face a monster and pretend to be a dutiful wife.
