It’s not that she looks older, it’s that she lookschanged, which is worse.
She sputters, shame creeping across her face.
“Who?” I half laugh. “No one could be worse than Emmett.” For the briefest moment, I’m happy that someone has managed to capture my sister’s heart.
“Bram.” Her voice is so quiet, I’m not sure I hear her at first.
“Who?” I can’t have heard her correctly.
“Bram.” She says it more forcefully this time. Her eyes finally meet mine and I realize we’re both crying. The kohl lining her eyes smears down her cheeks, leaving storm-cloud-gray streaks.
“No, I’m married to Bram.” I twirl my wedding ring around my finger anxiously. She’s got it all wrong, or maybe she’s gone mad.
Lydia mirrors my gesture and spins her ring. “He married me first.”
“That’s not possible.” Realization hits. My limbs go numb. “Oh.”
“Yes.Oh,” she replies softly, like she pities me.
My throat swells, but I get the words out. “Please, just, tell me everything. I can’t bear another secret.”
“My bargain with Queen Mor—I asked to experience something completely new and she sent me here as some kind of cruel trick, I think. I didn’t remember anything when I returned home to England or I would have told you, I swear it.” Her eyes shine with tears. “I didn’t remember any of it until Queen Mor’s bargains were broken on your wedding day.”
“So he married you, then returned to England and married me?” I ask. My thoughts are tripping over themselves and I can’t make sense of anything. “Why? How... how did it happen?”
“I lived in the castle with Bram, with very little memory of my time back home. You’ll find that things like time and memory are slippery here. And Bram... he made me love him; you know how he is.” She flushes with embarrassment. “It was only once he married me that I realized it was all an act. He was trying to break Queen Mor’s bargains. When it didn’t work, he realized the marriage must take place in England. That’s why he announced his intentions to find a bride and married you.”
“How did you get home the first time?”
Lydia frowns. “I hardly remember. I was running from the castle, and then I was back in England. It all happened so suddenly.”
The doors to the ballroom creak open and the music and voices from the revel spill out into the hall.
Emmett stands haloed in torchlight in the doorway. The doors close behind him and for a moment he just stands there at the end of the hall, his chest hitching like he’s run a very far distance.
“Ivy?” His voice breaks around the sound of my name.
Despite everything, my heart swells at the sight of him and the force of the love I feel for him nearly knocks me off my axis.
It’s Emmett. My Emmett. Finally.
On heavy feet, he crosses the length of the hall to Lydia and me.
I expect him to run to me; my heartbeat is a roar in my ears. My arms are outstretched, but no—
He looks to my sister, then to me, then back to her.
Something wordless passes between them.
My arms go limp.
Two years.
I knew Emmett for only six weeks. Four months if you count our first encounter in the carriage, which would be generous.
I feel sudden terror that what we had doesn’t compare to whatever he now shares with my sister.
He looks as changed as Lydia. His hair is long, too, in dark waves that fall nearly to his shoulders.
