Page 225 of Sinister

“You can’t,” she whispers. “It’s far too late.”

I frown. “What do you mean? You know . . . you don’t have to marry my brother.”

“That’s the thing. I have to—now more than ever,” she says, barely holding in a sob.

“Now more than ever?” I repeat, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” she lets out a dry laugh, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “I’m pregnant.”

I stare at her.

“You’re pregnant? Did my brother . . . did he do anything to you? Did he force himself?”

For all my brother’s faults, I can’t imagine him doing something so vile.

“No, no,” she says quickly. “It’s not that. No.”

“Or . . .” I trail off, realization dawning. “It’s not his child, is it?”

She swallows hard and gives me a slow nod.

“Who is it? Did someone hurt you?”

“No. On the contrary,” she whispers, placing her hand over her stomach. “The father of my child . . . I love him. I love him dearly, but we could never be together.”

“Why? Surely, there has to be a way. You could run away and⁠—”

“No. He is my father’s sworn enemy.”

I pause. “Sworn enemy?” I repeat. “Who is the father of your baby, Leah?”

She bites her lip. “You won’t tell, right? You promise you won’t tell anyone?”

“I vow it,” I say.

She hesitates, still unsure. But at last, she utters two words—two words that shock me to my core.

“Sinclair Arnoult.”

PART III

64

PETRA

I startle awake, screaming at the top of my lungs. A searing pain on my chest makes me wince. I scramble out of bed, ripping at my nightshirt as I search for a mirror.

When I finally stand before the reflective glass, what I see shouldn’t surprise me, yet it does all the same.

The mark. The one from my dreams.

It’s branded on my chest. Intricate lines flowing in a beautiful and complex design, all surrounding one letter.

S

“What . . .” I mutter in shock.

How the hell is this here? How did it suddenly appear?