“I’m not sure.” Arian glances at Jude, but he doesn’t seem to notice as he says something to Aleksander.
Jasce’s grip on my hand remains firm as he leads me up the staircase and into the cool interior of the palace. Aleksander, Jude, Arian, and Zerah follow us.
We pass through a doorway into a long colonnaded hall, our way lit by ornate iron sconces holding torches. The amber light glints off a row of armored statues lining one side.
At the end of the corridor, two guards are positioned before a set of double doors engraved with coiling Phoenixes. They pull the doors open as we approach, then stand aside to let us pass.
Jasce leads me into an enormous dining hall with soaring ceilings held aloft by rows of carved marble pillars. Banners embroidered with crimson Phoenix’s hang between each pillar.
My eyes are drawn to the long table dominating the center of the room, already laden with platters of food and pitchers of wine. The aromas of roasted meat, warm bread, and unfamiliar spices mingle in the air, making my stomach rumble.
Jasce guides me to the chair on his right at the head of the table and holds it for me. I settle into my chair and rest my hands on the wooden arms.
Across from me, Zerah sinks into her chair and arranges her scarlet cotehardie around her. Arian sits next to her, and they fall into conversation.
Servants in white surcoats circulate the room, filling goblets and serving the meal. My mouth waters as platter after platter is presented: slices of juicy roasted lamb still sizzling from the fire, a whole fish with scales that gleam like molten gold, mushrooms swimming in creamy sauce, and piles of fruits and vegetables.
Nerves coil in my stomach as I reach up to untie the veil covering my face. The filmy material slips away, baring my scars for all to see. I fold the veil neatly and set it beside my plate.
Heat creeps up my neck as I meet Zerah’s gaze. Her eyes widen briefly before she presses her lips together and looks down at her plate. Jude doesn’t react at all. He merely spears a slice of lamb with his knife, as if nothing is amiss.
Aleksander pauses, his goblet halfway to his lips, when his eyes land on me.
The knot in my stomach twists tighter, and I fight the urge to grab my veil and hide my marred skin from view.
Aleksander’s expression remains inscrutable as he finally lifts his goblet the rest of the way to his mouth. He takes a long sip of the ruby red wine, his gaze never leaving my face.
For all his staring, he does not seem repulsed or startled by my scars.
Gradually, my nerves settle, and I lift my head higher, determined not to let my self-consciousness ruin the meal. One scarred girl eating the midday meal with House of Crimson royalty—surely, stranger things have happened in this palace.
After I finish the last of the fish on my plate and set down my fork, Jasce rises from his seat. He reaches for my arm and helps me to my feet.
He doesn’t speak a word to any of his siblings as he leads me from the room. We pass numerous archways and corridors branching off the main hall, but Jasce does not slow his brisk pace. Though my legs are shorter, I quicken my steps to match Jasce’s longer strides.
Finally, we reach the door leading to our bedchamber. I step inside first, and he follows me.
He makes no move to pull me into his arms or guide me toward the bed dominating one side of the space. He merely stands, still holding my hand, his thumb gently stroking my knuckles.
I lift my free hand to his chest, feeling the pounding of his heart beneath my palm. Ever so slowly, he releases my other hand and moves to cup my face between his calloused palms. They span the ruined side of my face just as tenderly as the unmarred side.
He leans down, capturing my mouth against his. My heart stutters, then races, as though I’ve sprinted the length of the palace halls. When he deepens the kiss, I slide my fingers up over his shoulders, twining them behind his neck.
Jasce’s hands roam over my back, tracing paths that sear through the fabric of my surcoat. His touch is both a balm and a flame, soothing yet igniting a fire within me that craves more.
I’m used to counting when upset, using numbers as shields against pain or sorrow, but there is no need for numbers when I’m with Jasce.
Something inside me clicks into place, a sense that this is where I am meant to be. The feeling is so profound it almost overwhelms me, yet it’s not suffocating but liberating, like finding wings when you’ve only known chains.
It gives me a boldness I have never felt before. I grab Jasce’s weapon belt and remove it. The entire time, he remains silent, allowing me this, as if he understands my need to touch him.
Once I have the belt removed, I grasp the end of his surcoat and help lift it over his head. When I’m finished, I set it on the nearby table and turn to take in the sight of Jasce standing there with his chest bare.
I roam my gaze over his broad shoulders, the sculpted muscles that ripple across his chest and abdomen. My fingers tremble as I reach out to skim his chest with my knuckles.
Jasce stands motionless as I trace the lines of muscle that taper down to his waist. Each ridge and valley under my fingers tell me more about him than words ever could. His strength is not just physical. It’s in the way he holds himself, the way he speaks, the way he fights for what he believes in.
With one hand, he yanks at the ribbon binding my surcoat until it loosens enough for him to yank it down. I step out of it quickly, eager to feel his touch against my bare skin. He wastes no time in removing my pants and undergarments as well until I am standing naked before him.
