“She’s mine?” I asked.Happy.That’s how I felt looking at that chubby little face. Possessive, too. None of the other girls at the park had their very own baby sister. Anne had a baby brother, but he was always snotty and crying. This baby wasn’t crying. She wasperfect.
“Meet Ivy, your baby sister,” my mother said gently, smoothing the bow I had tied in my hair. It had gotten all rumpled while I was playing on the floor with the kitchen cat.
“Mine.” I reached out for her tiny little hand and she gripped my finger in hers like she needed me. When I think now about the twoyears before she was born, it seems unfathomable that I ever existed without her.
“It’s your job to protect her,” my father said, looking at the three of us. I didn’t understand why he was crying.
“My baby sister,” I whispered with awe. It was the first time I understood why people cried from happiness. I knew then, I’d do anything for her.
Even this.
I take one last breath, one last glance at Emmett and Ivy. Then, before I have the chance to lose my nerve, I drive the unicorn horn toward my heart.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
I’m still so dazed from the sleeping draught, it takes my brain a moment to catch up to the scene in front of me.
Lydia and I have been dumped in the middle of a coliseum, something right out of one of our father’s mealtime history lectures.
The noise of the roaring crowd is enough to make me dizzy, and the sun is so bright, my eyes still haven’t adjusted.
I’ve been dropped like a cat drops a dead bird for its owner, directly at the base of Bram’s throne.
His wretched announcement rattles around my skull, and I’m attempting to puzzle some way out of it when an object glinting in Lydia’s hand catches my eye.
I turn, to find her with the unicorn horn raised aloft. Her eyes are closed and there’s something about her that’s so still, like she’s already made peace with what’s happening.
“Don’t look, Ivy!” she screams, and in one rapid motion, she drives the horn toward her own heart.
I don’t think, I just run, throwing my body weight into her in a side tackle, sending us both splayed out on the gravel.
Lydia pushes herself up, sputtering, and crawls, on her handsand knees, searching for the horn, which went flying when she fell.
“Lydia, stop!” I scream. “Please!”
I wish I could open the door back to England again and free us both from this, but the bowl of the coliseum is lined with sheets of iron, dampening whatever small magic I have within me.
“Let me do this!” she groans, still sifting through the gravel, looking for the horn.
But Ferrinus, the weapon Bram placed in my hand, landed directly behind me when we fell.
If she’s not going to give me time to think of a plan that saves us both, then my next action is clear. I once snuck out of a warm town house and took off into a cold London night to search for her. It was the riskiest thing I’d done in all eighteen years of my life.
When we were children, for the first five years of my life, Lydia was the only person I spoke to willingly. It would drive our parents and governess mad, the way I’d lean over to Lydia and mumble in whispers only she could understand.
Lydia was the first person I ever spoke to.
I am glad she will also be the last.
“I love you, Lydia. I’m sorry,” I say as I pick up Ferrinus, the knife that failed me so terribly, and hope it lands true. I strike before the fear of pain sets in.
The knife connects with my jugular vein, but just before it opens skin, something tears it from my wrist and knocks me back.
Lydia is on top of me, clawing like a feral animal. She drives her elbow into the wrapped palm of my broken hand, causing me to lurch in pain and drop the knife.
She picks it up herself, and I kick her wrist hard enough to hear it pop.
I can’t even look at Emmett for fear I’ll lose my nerve and not be able to do what I need to do.
