Free Prophecy of the Sisters by Michelle Zink Page A

anywhere
     at all and not do this.”
    He pulls me closer for an instant, and I feel the length of his body against mine. It steals my breath, and for a moment there
     is no prophecy, no book, no mark.
    Only James’s warm body against mine.
    I am embarrassed at the effect of his touch. I don’t want him to feel my heart striking against the bodice of my gown or to
     hear my catching breath, so I pull away, eyeing him playfully.
    “You’ve grown bold,” I tease.
    He laughs then, and the birds in the trees above us take flight, frightened by the exuberance of it. “Me? Bold? That’s quite
     funny coming from one of Wycliffe’s rogue young ladies!”
    My cheeks become hot at the mention of our escape yesterday from Wycliffe. There wasn’t time to tell James of our visit to
     Sonia Sorrensen’s. Not in the chaos that ensued after our return. And I am grateful for the reprieve, if the truth is told.
     Sonia’s behavior during the sitting so unnerved me that I hadn’t decided how to explain it to James. He knows only what we
     told Miss Gray — that we fancied a bit of fresh air and took an impromptu stroll. Now, after my discussion with Sonia over
     the lake, I am quite certain that it is best for all concerned if that remains the story of record.
    “Besides,” James continues, oblivious to my turmoil, “I might say you
make
me bold, and what of it? Why else do we come to our favorite place, to the shelter of the tree and the comfort of our rock?”
     He sits on the rock then, as if to demonstrate its comfort, grimacing in play at its hard surface. “All right, then. Perhaps
     the rock isn’t as comfortable as I remember.… Or perhaps it is only more comfortable when you are near.” He lifts his eyebrows,
     patting the spot next to him and grinning wickedly.
    I smile at his attempt to get me closer, making my way to the rock and dropping next to him. “Actually, there’s something
     I should like to tell you. Something I think may have to do with the book you found in Father’s library.”
    His grin fades. If there is one thing that might take James’s mind off the less virtuous reasons for our meetings by the river,
     it is discussion of a rare book. “What is it?”
    Drawing a deep breath, I take the smallest possible step forward. That is how the telling will have to be done. “I believe
     I understand the reference to the Guardian and the Gate, however much one
can
understand such a thing.”
    “Really? But it sounds like such gibberish!”
    I look down at my skirt, smoothing it across my lap while I begin. “Yes, well… I might have agreed only a couple of days ago,
     but now… well, now I know there
is
a story… a story about sisters, actually. Twins, like Alice and me.”
    He listens mostly in silence, interrupting once or twice to clarify parts of the story he doesn’t understand. But his questions
     are those designed to further the scholarly pursuit of knowledge. They are not questions in the true sense, not in the sense
     that he actually believes the story is real. Instead, he listens as if to a fairy tale. I tell him everything save mention
     of the mark. When I am finished, silence fills the space around us as full as any words.
    He finally speaks, his voice gentle, as if not wanting to hurt my feelings. “But… Why have I never heard this tale, Lia? Certainly,
     as a bookseller, as one who assists serious buyers in the amassing of their collections, I would have heard of it if it had
     any merit.”
    His doubt raises doubt of my own. Doubt that the prophecy might be believable to anyone but those of us with the irrefutable
     proof of the mark.
    I shrug. “I don’t know, James. I wish I could answer you, but I cannot.”
    This is the point at which I should show him the mark. It is well hidden beneath the long sleeve of my gown, but I can almost
     feel it burning, a silent reminder that there is one important detail I have omitted from the story.
    But I don’t tell him. I would