“Have I?” I ask, knowing he’s probably been at war more than he’s been home lately. Everyone knows the chieftain made warriors out of his sons. It’s no secret. “When have we really had time to know each other?”
Jasce folds his arms and stares at me for several long beats. “You know enough.”
“No.” I grit my teeth for what I’m about to say. “I want to know everything about you.”
I hope he starts at the beginning and talks very slowly. He seems arrogant enough that I could possibly buy several days of peace and time to plan.
When he remains silent, I press him. “Share something with me.”
Jasce raises both hands slightly, palms up. “Like what?”
“Anything. Tell me about your family.”
He sighs. “You know my family.”
“What do you like about each of them?” I try to smile and act interested, as if there is anything to like about this family of murderers.
“This is ridiculous,” he says with a frown.
Instead of allowing it to bother me, I offer a suggestion. “Start with your brothers and sisters.”
I know the names and ages of his siblings from things I have heard Grandfather say, but not much more.
To my astonishment, Jasce complies. “Reeve is intelligent, but sometimes reckless. Aleksander is confident. Jude…” Jasce pauses and smiles, and I’m amazed that his facial muscles even know how to react in such a way. “He makes me laugh.”
I’m at a loss for words, but apparently Jasce has found his.
“Women think he’s diverting too.” He leans in and shakes a finger. “Eventually that’s going to get him in trouble.”
Probably so.
Jasce continues, his tone softening as he speaks about his sister. “Wrenley is courageous and compassionate. My uncle used to call us the loud, tenacious twins. We were always in trouble.”
Jasce has a twin sister?
“And Zerah.” The lines near his mouth soften as he refers to his youngest sister. “She’s sweet and kind, and she knows no stranger.”
I hadn’t expected this. I’m not sure what I expected, but certainly not this. “What about your parents?”
He lifts one shoulder in a shrug, as if he cannot be bothered to lift both. But his jaw betrays him. He clenches and unclenches it several times before he speaks in a sharp tone. “You know all about them.”
“I want to know more.”
“No. You don’t.” Torchlight throws shadows across his face as he stands and crosses to the fireplace, his shoulders stiff.
I lace my fingers together and frown, hating that I asked the wrong question.
“You’re free to retire to your bedchamber.” When I don’t move, he says tersely over his shoulder. “Goodnight, Lyra.”
I hurry to my feet and leave his bedchamber, relieved to have escaped his bed for another night.
ChapterSix
Sunlight filteringthrough the window wakes me. I squint my eyes at the golden light and yawn. Another night has passed, and I’m still stuck in the Darhavva palace.
I stand, cross the room to the armoire, and grab a dark purple cotehardie. As I pull on the gown, I think about my younger sisters, Emerin and Tahira. They would love these clothes. I smile as I step into the corridor, still thinking about them. I even twirl my gown a little bit, watching the way the silk swishes against my legs, but as I take my second turn in the corridor, a strange man moves into my path and throws his arms around me. I gasp as he pulls me close, squeezing me so tight I can only draw in half a breath.
“Lyra!”
