Page 16 of Lost Girl

Not that she so much as flinches. She’s unfazed as always. I don’t know why I bother, honestly. Why I think she’ll react to any form of intimidation. Being raised by our father and uncles, my sister has layers upon layers of thick skin.

More than any woman I’ve ever met. Aside from our mother, of course.

“Because being in there,” she motions to the castle behind her, “taught me there’s more to immortals than meets the eye, more than you think, dearest brother.”

As if that was supposed to change my mind.

“I don’t care if the sun shines out of their—”

“Are you done?” she growls. “We’re going to be late.”

No, I’m not, but I don’t tell her that. She doesn’t give me the chance anyway. Once again, she storms off without a glance back, leaving me at the very entrance of Hook’s palace.

I’d say I wonder who she gets her temper from, but I’m not one to talk. We’re both as fiery and stubborn as mama was.

“Tigerlily, wait!” I hustle behind her, sweating bullets in this damned tuxedo jacket.

My sister stops long enough for me to catch up, lifting her chin as we follow the stoned path. “Don’t do anything stupid,” she repeats, eyeing me from her peripheral.

Adjusting the now too tight bow wringing my neck, I tip my head surely. “I’ve got this, lil’ sis.”

“Sure about that? It’s a full moon tonight.”

“You know that doesn’t affect when I shift.”

“But it affects your temperament. You’re irrational and impulsive during this phase.”

“Have you been studying me?” I chortle, jokingly I should add.

Her response, however, is anything but. “I’ve studied you since I was old enough to understand what gifts you possess. This shouldn’t be news to you.”

It’s not, really. Tigerlily has always been curious and analytical, since we were kids. While I wanted to roam the forest, widdle spears, and prove myself to my father, my sister would spend hours reading or simply watching our people bustle about. She knew everything about everyone.

“So in what phase am I the calmest?” Another joke, because me, calm?

Perhaps in another lifetime.

“Waning,” she replies, surprising me in the process. “I wouldn’t venture to say calm is the right word, but you’re definitely easier to handle then.”

Our conversation comes to a halt as we round the side of the palace to the back where the festivities are being held in the lush garden. Bach fills the air, sounds of laughter and chatter ringing out amongst the serene tune. Champagne, hor d'oeuvres—it’s a celebration at its finest.

What exactly are we celebrating, you ask?

Peter Pan’s death.

Word throughout town is Hook and the little Tinksley Bell crossed the portal with the intent to end him.

The boy’s demise doesn’t surprise me. I always knew our land would find a way to rid itself of his unwelcome presence.

I’m more surprised it was, not only Tinksley who wielded the blade, but that’s she’s chosen to hang on the Captain’s arm.

Then again, from where I stand, it doesn’t appear she’s the same girl anymore.

She’s one of them now.

“Come on, let’s go say hello,” my sister insists, looping her arm through mine.

We do, exchanging pleasantries with anyone who stops us. Naturally, they all ask for our father, in which we assure them he’ll be on his way soon.

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