"Your sister Clara tried to kill herself last night."
Alaric's words hit me like a slap across the face. I stared at him, my hands going slack in his grip as I tried to process what he'd just said.
"She... what?" I finally managed, sinking back into the rocking chair. The nursery's cheerful blue walls suddenly seemed too bright, too innocent for this conversation.
Alaric knelt beside me, his eyes filled with concern. "She jumped from a second-story window at the Beaumont estate. Fortunately, she fell through an apple tree that broke her fall. She's alive but injured—a broken ankle, fractured arm, and various cuts and bruises."
I pressed a hand to my swollen belly, trying to steady my breathing. My body's instinctive protectiveness for our child warred with the unexpected emotions Clara's name evoked.
"Why are you telling me this?" I finally asked, my voice sounding distant even to my own ears.
