When we’re finally alone in his bedchamber, I speak. “Why did your mother do this to me?”
“I don’t know.” He positions himself near the window, his body stiff, his jaw hard.
“Is this something she does regularly to people?”
“I don’t know.”
"You could be lying to me," I say, finally voicing my doubt.
"Why?" He raises an eyebrow. "What benefit would it serve me to lie to you about this? I am stuck with you instead of Lyra." His words land like a blow to my chest, stealing my breath and leaving me momentarily speechless.
“Well, I didn’t ask for it,” I say after a moment, my anger rising. “I have no desire to be your wife.”
“I know. You’ve made your sentiments perfectly clear.”
Jasce turns toward the door.
“Where are you going?” I inquire, the lingering tension in my body making my voice sharper than intended.
"To prepare for Jude and Reeve’s arrival," he says. "They will arrive within the week."
His other brothers are coming here?
The bed creaks as I sit on the edge of the mattress. "Jasce, there are things we need to talk about," I press, desperation edging my tone.
More questions burn my tongue, all the things I long to ask about his mother, the portrait, and the future.
But he doesn’t stay. Instead, he walks away, closing the door behind him and leaving me.
"I am stuck with you instead of Lyra."His words mock me, belittle me, shred through the part of me that feels something for him.
I shouldn't care. We're bound by magic, not by choice, but despite my best efforts, his words have forcibly carved a path of pain in my chest.
I strip out of my cotehardie and change into something simple. A sudden knock against the door jerks my attention away from the task at hand.
Sunlight streaks across the granite floor as I cross the room and open the door. A short and stocky guard stands there.
He bows his head in respect. “Lord Jerrod requests your presence.”
Bile rises in my throat as I follow the guard down the dimly lit corridor. I don't want to speak to Jerrod.
No! I don’t even want to be inthatman’s presence. But alas, here I am, forced to submit.
The torches flicker ominously as we walk, casting shadows across the walls that seem to follow me. Or maybe, they dread this impending meeting too.
When we reach Jerrod's chambers, the guard bows and moves aside, granting me entry. I draw in a deep, shaky breath and step inside.
The chieftain sits on a chair, his fingers steepled on his lap. He looks up as I enter, his eyes as cold as a wintry morning.
A shiver slips down my spine as I curtsy in front of him, my voice steady despite the unease in my chest. "You wished to see me, My Lord?"
He nods at the guard, who quickly leaves me alone with the Hematite chieftain, the man responsible for Grandfather's execution.
I shouldn’t care about that either, but I do! He viciously slaughtered Grandfather in front of a crowd.
"Take a seat, Lyra."
I slip into the chair across from him and smooth the fabric of my surcoat. He watches me, his gaze burning through me.
