My chest squeezes at the insensitivity of her words, but I don’t argue.
Lady Dinah crosses Lyra’s bedchamber and selects a gown from the armoire. I remove my plain surcoat and pull the cotehardie over my head.
As I walk down the hall with Lady Dinah, guards turn to stare at me. My cheeks burn with embarrassment, but I can’t tell if it’s from the attention or the knowledge that something is about to happen.
We make our way to the throne room, where a group of men gather. I look around, trying to find a clue to what is happening, but they give nothing away.
Lady Dinah sits to the left of the throne and gestures for me to stand near her. My heart races as I follow her request, standing next to her in the large room.
“Are you with child yet?” she asks, her voice low enough so only I hear her.
I bite back the urge to respond with a dry remark, my mind conjuring a witty retort that remains trapped behind my polite facade.
“I don’t believe so,” I say instead.
“When my husband arrives, you will lie and tell him you are carrying Jasce’s child.”
“He’s here?” I ask, my lips numb.
Lady Dinah smiles and nods, sending a shiver against my heart.
The gods help me!
Please, please help me.
Lady Dinah shifts against the chair and looks out over the assembly of men.
“Is Jasce all right?” Inwardly, I brace myself, waiting for her answer.
“Of course.” She continues in a proud voice. “My sons are strong. Nobody from House of Silver will ever break them.”
The door slams open, and a man steps into the room, a tall, older man with gray hair and a hardened face, dressed in armor with the blood of his enemies smeared on it. He walks with a confidence that could shake even the most resolute of opponents.
But it’s not his appearance that leaves me breathless. It’s the way he looks at me with enough coldness to freeze a volcano. To freeze me. To destroy me.
As quickly as he looked at me, he glances away as he strides toward the throne and sits. The men turn to him, their eyes speaking their victory even before they say anything.
My heart sinks to the marble floor as the truth hits me. Grandfather has failed.
He may not have been loving, but he’s still family.
And now...
I’m not even sure he’s still alive.
The door swings open again, and more warriors fill the throne room. Too many to count. The man with the long scar on his face is among them. The young woman with fiery red hair stands next to him.
I look up as Jasce moves to me, wearing a surcoat with a crimson phoenix over dark pants. Worry drums inside me as I eye him, searching for signs of injury. Other than a thin bandage wrapped around his left arm, he looks unharmed.
Jasce nods at Jerrod.
“I rescued you today, boy,” Jerrod says.
“The rescue wouldn’t have been necessary had you not taken most of the army with you,” Jasce’s words cut through the air, eliciting a smirk from his father.
“I see that you still have your mother’s tongue.”
Tension ripples across Jasce’s shoulders, but he doesn’t speak. Maybe he knows it’s wise to not say anything.
