I stay stiff as he holds me a moment longer before releasing me. My hem lashes my legs as I move back, gaining distance.
“It’s so good to see you again.” His eyes crinkle as he grins. “You look as beautiful as ever.”
I open and close my mouth.
The gods are my witness. I try to figure out who he could be. I take in his bronzed skin, his black hair, his friendly eyes. Then, my gaze drops to his hand where the signet ring occupies his thumb. He’s one of Jasce’s brothers. But which one?
His expression shifts to concern. “Has something happened? Are you all right?”
“No… I-I’m—”
“—in need of rescuing?” he interjects, his face suddenly solemn.
“What?” I say, shocked. “I’m—"
“— sorry you married my grumpy older brother instead of me?” He flashes the most brilliant, albeit lopsided, smile I have ever seen.
“Y-your…”
“Even more handsome than the last time you saw me?” Mirth glints in his amber eyes as he grins. “You do have a way with words, Lyra.”
I can’t help but laugh at his wit.
He glances around the empty corridor. “Where are we going?”
“I was looking for Jasce,” I lie, having no wish to tell him I was thinking of avoiding his brother for the entire day.
“Well, you’re in luck. I know exactly where to find him.” Boldy, he puts his arm around me and sweeps me down the hall.
Perfect…
Maybe later he can tell me where I can run off the edge of a cliff. It would be easier than facing Jasce again.
As we walk, Jasce’s brother tells me all about being in Karra, where his sister Wrenley lives. I marvel as he speaks of the Bloodstone tribe and living among them. Grandfather would never allow me to go to one of their cities. He hates the Bloodstone tribe almost as much as he hates House of Crimson. He says their magic is too dark.
Jasce’s brother only stops speaking when we reach a door, and voices drift to where we stand.
“Did you think I wouldn’t notice what you did, Jasce?” a woman asks.
“Of course not. You notice everything.”
“Your father will not be pleased that you gave all that grain to the people.”
Jasce’s brother grabs my hand and pulls me into the room before I can stop him. Jasce glances up from the table, where he sits next to an older woman who wears a black cotehardie and a silver coronet. Her amber eyes meet mine, her gaze sending an icy chill through my veins.
“What did you do now, Jasce?” his brother asks, still holding my hand.
When Jasce’s eyes narrow, his brother pulls free, and I run my fingers against my gown.
“He emptied the grainer and gave it to the people,” the woman says in a disapproving tone.
“Oh, you naughty boy,” he says with a grin.
“Aleksander.” A fierce frown tugs at her mouth. “This isn’t the time for your jesting.”
Aleksander, of course. He’s Jerrod’s second oldest son.
Jasce stands and moves to his brother. “Welcome to Darhavva.”
