We step into the shop, where intricate glass pieces in every hue hang from racks or sit on low shelves. Over in one corner an enormous furnace glows, while a wiry man shapes molten glass with dexterous movements.
“See anything you like?” Jasce asks.
My eyes are drawn to a collection of glass shells, so realistic I have to touch them to confirm they aren’t real.
“I’ll get you whichever one you want,” Jasce says.
I shake my head. “You don’t have to do that.”
He lifts a spiraled shell from the stand and turns it over, so I can admire the craftsmanship. “I want to. Consider it another birthday gift.”
Before I can protest further, he heads to the counter to make the purchase. I watch him, once again amazed at this tender, generous side of him that still catches me off guard. The glassblower wraps the shell in protective cloth and hands it to Jasce.
Jasce returns and presents it to me.
“Thank you,” I say. “It’s beautiful.”
We leave the shop and wind our way deeper into the heart of the city, leaving behind the permanent marketplace shops. Here, the streets narrow into a maze of alleys and corridors flanked by smaller vendor stalls. Brightly dyed awnings provide patches of shade from the unrelenting desert sun.
I stay close to Jasce as we navigate the tight walkways, trying not to brush against the other passersby hurrying on errands or haggling over prices. The aroma of exotic spices mingles with fragrant smoke wafting from street food carts. My stomach rumbles at the scent of meat sizzling over open grills.
Jasce pulls us toward a stall selling skewers of seasoned lamb and chicken. He orders several and passes me one of the skewers. The meat is perfectly charred on the outside and so tender it practically melts on my tongue.
When we finish eating, we continue through the winding city, eventually coming upon a wider avenue. Jasce leads us to a stone bench in the shade of a palm tree. I smooth my surcoat and sit, grateful to rest my aching feet.
A bird sings in the nearby tree as I glance over at Jasce, taking in his handsome features. Even sitting casually on a bench, he exudes power and confidence.
The thought of being his wife thrills me to my core. To be bound together, to rule at his side, to share his bed each night. But I’m not foolish enough to forget the harsh truth. His people will never accept me as one of their own, and our union would undoubtedly upset Asha. She would be livid, seeing my marriage to Jasce as the ultimate betrayal.
I keep my troubled thoughts locked away as I follow Jasce back to the villa, but the moment we’re alone in his bedchamber, he turns to me, his brow creased with concern.
“What’s wrong, Annora?”
I sink to the edge of the bed, the weight of my worries pulling me down like an anchor. “I cannot go to Sharhavva with you.”
“Yes, you can,” he insists, his tone firm and unwavering.
Pain wraps around my heart as I shake my head at him. “No. Your people will never accept me as your wife, Jasce. It’s an impossible dream.”
Fire burns in his eyes as he speaks in a voice fierce with determination. “I will give them no choice but to accept you.”
“You will be inviting war,” I say, willing him to understand the gravity of what he suggests.
He runs a hand through his hair, messing up the strands. “I’m trying to invite peace. Can’t you see that?”
“Asha will not stop attacking your army just because you marry me. And your people will not stop hating House of Silver because I am your wife.”
Maybe I should have thought about all those things before I gave myself to Jasce last night.
The bed creaks as Jasce sits next to me. “I think you underestimate the power of your sister’s love for you. Asha will not want to hurt you, and she will hesitate to attack Sharhavva if she knows you are living there.” He reaches out and brushes a strand of hair back from my face. “If she understands that this marriage is for the good of our people, she will come to accept it.”
She won’t.
He doesn’t understand the way my people think—how they feel they were robbed of the chieftainship when his house took over.
Asha will not stop, not until she gets what she wants or she—
I stop myself immediately from thinking the thought.
