Jasce doesn’t reply.
“Answer me,” I lash out. “Did you kill him?”
Jasce folds his arms, his posture far too relaxed for someone who has just murdered an innocent person. “Yes.”
I recoil, my heart racing furiously against my chest. “Why? Why did you have to kill him?”
“He was a threat, and Ialwaysextinguish threats.”
Chills slice through me at the finality of Jasce’s words.
“Threat?” I scoff, disbelief coloring my tone. “He was a kind person who showed me compassion.”And he reminded me of Behton, my brave, kind, compassionate brother.
Cruelly, Jasce took that thread from me, that tapestry weaving a bond between my heart and Behton. It didn’t matter that the thread was small. It was mine, and I found it here among House of Crimson.
“He was meddling in affairs that didn't concern him,” Jasce says, his words pulling apart more and more of those threads.
“You had no right to kill him.”
“I have every right,” Jasce says. “It is my duty to do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”
“Being my husband doesn’t give you the authority to kill anyone who is kind to me.”
“I didn’t like the way he looked at you.” Fierceness frames Jasce’s words. If I had a dagger, I would carve it away—piece by piece—fragment by fragment.
“You’re a monster, just like your father.” My heart burns at that reality.
Jasce is like his father.
A murderer.
A thief.
“Maybe I am,” Jasce says with enough coldness to freeze this entire city. “Don’t leave the palace again without my permission.”
I scoff again. “I will not be your prisoner.”
“You may go anywhere you want as long as I’m next to you.” How casually he speaks. How infuriatingly.
Bitterness burns my tongue in a way that is so foreign to me. When I was a child, I promised myself I wouldn’t allow it to consume me the way it did Grandfather. Now, here it is—thriving inside my veins.
“I would rather rot in this very spot than ever go anywhere with you,” I announce with a lift of my chin.
“I’m very tempted to allow you to rot, Lyra, but alas, you’re my wife. So, let’s return to the palace, feign politeness, and enjoy the masquerade in honor of your birthday.”
My birthday?
ChapterFifteen
How didI forget it is my birthday? My real birthday.
The irony isn’t lost on me as I step into the ballroom—the fact that I share a birthday with Lyra.
I imagine Mother’s voice whispering in my ears.“You’re nineteen today, Annora.”
If only she were here right now. If only that vile flower wasn’t destroying her.
Stop.
