My brother’s head snaps to the top of the stairs. He loosens his hold enough that I can turn my head to look to where my mother is standing, tying her cream-colored silk robe around herself.

Her gaze flicks to me, then back to him. “She’s not yours to punish. If you leave a mark, you don’t know what he’ll do.”

Not don’t hurt her. Only fear of the consequences of being found out.

I’m not sure what surprises me more—the fact she is intervening or the fact Abel seems to listen to her. He hates her. And even as she hides it, I know some part of her is afraid of him.

Abel returns his gaze to me. He squeezes his hand again and brings his face to within an inch of mine.

“You think you can get a rise out of me?” He releases me, then steps back just enough to look me over. “You’ll be put in your place tomorrow. And I’ll not only deliver you, but I’ll happily stand by and watch.”

I swallow hard, my hand around my throat. He hates me. I know this. But his tone, the look in his eyes, terrifies me.

Abel turns and climbs the stairs, leaving my bags where they are. He passes my mother without a word and disappears into his room.

I remain where I am and look up at her. Still beautiful, even being woken up in the middle of the night. Still as cold as ever.

“You’ve been here two minutes, and already, you’re causing trouble,” she says.

“It’s good to see you, too, Mom,” I say, bending to pick up my bags. I’m anxious to get to my room now and away from her. I clutch the railing and climb the stairs as I try to steady my heart and the trembling of my hands.

She folds her arms across her chest and watches me as I make my way down the hall to my old room. I open the door and am about to step inside when she calls my name.

“Ivy.”

Stopping, I turn with one hand on the doorknob.

“Do not shame us.”

4

Ivy

I drift in and out of sleep. My old bed feels foreign, too small tucked up against the wall, the deep pink gauze draping it too childish. I reach out a hand and touch it, remembering how I used to like it. Used to pretend I was a princess in a tower.

The wind whistles in from the window I opened to air out the room. The curtain billows, filtering the light coming in from the lamp in the garden. I watch the shadows that dance on the far wall and remember how I would do that when I was little too. I see ominous figures there, the branches of the tree outside making for an eerie gathering as my eyes close again.