bon that did i

ld the household about it in her first week, in her soft, apologetic way. It was the only gift her father had ever given her, bo

and Camille had looked so stricken

nd half buried in the kitchen bin under a heap of potato

table and a cup of tea gone cold at her elbow, and she was so deep in the Treaty of Ashmere that she

me to the

up. "What

t co

where Julian stood by the counter with a handful of silk in his fist, and Camille sat on a stool by the window with her face in her hands, crying softl

pened?" L

his hand. The blue ribbon lay acr

n," he said. His

it in t

t it. "I don'

oom this morning

n she came back, it was gone. We looked everywhere.

lia

y put it

every eye turn toward her, and the old stone floor o

Julian, but he did not l

mille, I would never touch your thing

ow you wouldn't. I didn't say it was you. I only..." Her voice cracked. "It's only that you were the only one in the eas

sounded. She tried to steady herself. "I was in the library. I'

see you at breakfast, dear. But I

h me at nine," Lyra said, turn

the day school for a Saturday study gro

ian could have said. Lyra had known those dark eyes her entire life. She had seen them filled with pride, with worry, with the

e said quiet

el. "Did you go into Cami

N

touch the

I swe

ge, "Julian, put the ribbon down. Damien, go and sit. Camille, take the morning

nt, her legs moving of thei

worn leather chair behind the desk and a window that looked out over the winter garden. Adrian did not sit. He

ou something," h

honest with me, even i

honest," Ly

were five years old. I carried you on my shoulders. I taught you to ride the bicycle, or Damien claims he did, but I know it was me." A

painful lurch.

ant

en

ened girl in a strange house who has nothing and has told us nothing but the truth. And you are my sister, and I've ne

I didn't say those things about th

who

creeping dread, the only question. There was no one else i

girl who

flicker of something quick and bright behind a pair of pale eyes. And she knew, without needing to be told, exactly how it wou

n his expression hardened, very slightly, a

" he said quietly. "But I do

ink I d

re losing something. And I think you may be feeling that, a little. Camille is new

him. "You thi

n't sa

child who needs a home. I was a child who needed

ed at her, and the silence str

d go," L

yr

's lowered eyes, and up the stairs to her room. She closed the door softly, so as not to

ur smelled faintly of lavender. She pressed her face into it, and the little chewed ear was soft agains

She had been standing there for a long time. She had heard the shouting in the kit

cked the boys when they came into a room. She had seen the tears that came at precisely the right momen

ad underlined careful, and crossed

e, and her mouth set in a line that her sons w

" she murmured to the e

watch the girl who had torn