Thankfully, Lyra’s mother doesn’t follow me as I slip into Jasce’s bedchamber. I carry the pouch to the table and empty the contents. A brush, ruby necklace, and a folded piece of parchment hit the wooden surface. The brush still has golden strands stuck in the bristles. I touch my hair, feeling the softness.
Lyra’s hair isn’t like my reddish-brown strands that always want to curl, especially if the weather is unusually hot.
I pick up the folded piece of parchment, open it, and read.
I will tell him everything if you do not give my family the coin you promised.
There is no name,no address. I shake my head. Obviously, Lyra is trying to blackmail someone, but who? And why?
I lift the necklace, feeling its weight. I could feed an entire orphanage with what this is worth.
Sunlight glistens off the gems as I stare at the gaudy thing for a breath, before lowering it back to the table. I would feel ridiculous wearing this. But, if Lyra were here, she would probably wear it with grace.
For the first time since waking up in Lyra’s body, I wonder what has happened to her.
If I am here, where is she?
ChapterSeven
A fire cracklesin the hearth, and moonlight tumbles through the tall windows when Jasce returns to his bedchamber. I stand, my long cotehardie swaying against my legs as he closes the door and turns to face me.
My heart races as he scans my body. Despite the heavy fabric of my gown, my skin tingles under his intense scrutiny.
"Remove your cotehardie," he commands, his voice impatient, as if he’s grown tired of me holding him at an arm’s length.
My breath catches, and I draw my hands into my sleeves. If only I were brave like Asha or fierce like Emerin. They would never allow a man to speak to them in this manner.
“N-no.”
“Remove it,” he says, his voice flat, emotionless.
Shivers of alarm race along my spine as I stumble back a step and try to think of something to say, some way to diffuse the situation. Unfortunately, and regrettably, my mind is left blank.
What has happened?
He has been demanding before now, but not like this.
Jasce takes a step toward me, closing some of the space I created. “Do not disobey me. You are my wife, and you will do as I say.”
Be brave.
Do not allow him to make you tremble.
“Or what?” Anger floods my veins and fuels me. “What will you do, Jasce? Will you take me outside, tie me to a post, and have me whipped?” Now, those are words Asha would have uttered.
As Jasce stands stiffly, staring at me like he would like to punish me, I move back to the sofa and sink to the soft cushion.
A muscle tics in his jaw as he remains in the center of the room, his eyes glinting with frustration. “Do you think this is a game?”
“I k-know it’s not a game.” Asha’s pale face after her wedding night invades my vision. “But I will not be forced to lie with you. Not by you or by mymother.”
“Your mother?”
I stare down at my lap.
“Did your mother speak to you?”
I nod.
