Page 73 of Kissed By Songs of Lilies

Despite the soft volume, I heard shrewdness in her tone, the sort that came from raising many children and knowing their moods and feelings like the back of her hand. I found myself wishing I had known this wise woman, my gran.

But there was no time for that now. "My older sister. Can you tell me where she is?"

There was a pause before Gran answered, "She rests with us now."

Her single whisper was joined by many others, but I couldn’t make out any of their words.

Panic rose in my chest. "You don’t mean…"

Gran’s voice was softer now. The spell was beginning to fade. "She is dead. I’m so sorry."

My heart was breaking. How could any of this be true? How could Briar be dead? Hawthorne had told me she was alive. He couldn’t lie! Had she died recently, or had he himself had been lied to?

My frantic thoughts were interrupted. "Your mother wishes me to tell you something."

"Momma?" I asked, my voice cracking. I longed to hear my mother’s voice, for her to tell me everything was okay.

Instead, Gran whispered back, "She says she loves you always, and she’s sorry."

"Sorry for what?" I asked desperately.

The only reply was a soft, barely intelligible whisper. "Ask your husband-to-be."

I flattened myself against the ground, trying to hear more, but the flowers were still and silent. The garden had fallen back asleep, and I had no idea how to wake it.

The flowers had given me all the answers they could.

I lay on the ground for hours and hours, crying until my breathing finally slowed and sorrow crept into my bones. I stared at the darkening sky until I accidentally fell asleep.

When I woke, the stars were out.

It was time to talk to my husband-to-be.

CHAPTER 37

The Fae King

The door to my study swung open, and Georgia entered. I knew at once that something was terribly wrong. It was so late it was early. Her dress was disheveled and dirty, and her eyes were red and puffy. Tears were streaming down her cheeks.

I stood up from my desk and tried to pull her into my arms.

She jerked backward violently. "Don’t touch me," she hissed.

Now, I was even more worried. "Georgia, what’s wrong? Are you okay?"

"Of course I’m not okay. She’s dead!" she screamed.

It was the piercing, primal scream of a woman who had lost everything. I had heard it once before. From her mother. The horrible memories of that day threatened to flood me, but I pushed past them. "Who’s dead?" I asked.

Stars above, if something had happened to her younger sister after I had promised my protection, she would eat me alive, and I would deserve it.

Instead, she hissed out the name of another sister, "Briar."

I was taken aback. "What do you mean?"

She stabbed a finger in my chest and looked up at me with hatred. "The flowers told me."

"The flowers?" I echoed. Nothing about this conversation was making sense.

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