I stare at the ring, picturing a young Lady Dinah and Mazaline laughing together. It’s a lovely image, though it makes my insides quake to imagine such closeness souring. I cannot fathom being friends with someone, only to have a man come between us.
My thumb brushes over the smooth turquoise stone. This ring likely means nothing to Jasce, but to me, it represents a broken bond between two friends.
I wish I could ask Lady Dinah about her friendship with Mazaline. About whether a part of her still cared for Jasce’s mother, even after they both wed the same cruel man. But some stories are lost to time, their truth buried alongside the souls who lived them.
Zerah leans back against her chair and fans herself with her hand. “I’m so happy my mother isn’t here right now. If she were, she would be trying to marry me off to some old man again.” Amusement twinkles in her eyes as she holds up ten fingers. “She has tried to match me to ten different men this year alone.”
I turn the ring again as I smile at Zerah. “Are they usually old?”
“Yes. Painfully so. One of them was so old, he creaked more than the ancient doors of the dungeon.” She shakes her head as she continues. “He brought me flowers. Flowers, as if a bouquet could make up for the fact that I would have been a widow before my first gray hair.”
Seeming to understand my need to just listen, Zerah continues talking. “There was also Sir Kaelan—handsome, I’ll give him that—but he had the personality of a training dummy. All brawn and no brains.” She rolls her eyes. “A conversation with him was like trying to draw water from a stone.”
“That sounds dreadful.”
“He was.” She wrinkles her nose. “And don’t get me started on the twins. Yes, twins. Mother thought it would be charming to consider them both. As if I’d marry two men at once.”
Zerah leans closer, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Then there was Lord Barrik. Barely out of boyhood and so nervous he could barely speak. He spilled wine all over himself at dinner.”
As she talks about another suitor who fancied himself a poet but could only rhyme love with dove, I allow myself to get lost in her words, to forget about the things I cannot control. Like Jasce.
Instead, I focus on Zerah, and the friendship I wish to build with her. I can do something about that. I cannot do anything about the feud between House of Silver and House of Crimson.
I know the reprieve is temporary. Soon enough, I will be thrust back into the conflict, but for now, I let myself enjoy this moment of friendship.
ChapterThirty-Nine
ANNORA
Moonlight tumblesthrough the arched windows, cascading down the frescoed walls and polished shelves of the Grand Library as I step out into the hushed corridor. Aleksander stands near the wall, an easy smile planted across his face.
“Hello, Annora.”
“Hello.”
“You seemed lost in thought just now.” A playful note enters his tone as he continues. “I’ve always believed a good book can do that, sweep you away until you forget everything else around you.”
I nod, knowing the truth of his words all too well.
“Yes, it’s easy to lose oneself in the pages.” I lean against the wall, lingering in the corridor instead of returning to the bedchamber I share with Jasce. There’s something in me not willing to face him yet.
I press my palms to the cool stone behind me and let out a slow exhale.
“Tell me,” Aleksander says. “How are you finding Sharhavva? Does it compare to your beloved Bakva?”
“It’s...different,” I admit. “Vast and vibrant. But my heart yearns for my sisters.” The truth escapes my lips before I think of bridling it.
Aleksander nods, as if he understands the sentiment all too well. “Our families have a way of holding onto our hearts.” He pauses before adding with a softer tone, “But perhaps in time, you will come to think of us as family.”
I smile as I think of the time I spent with Zerah in the library. “Perhaps.”
Aleksander slips a hand into his cloak and pulls out a book bound in deep red leather. “For you,” he says, extending the book toward me.
I hesitate for a breath before taking it from him. The cover is embossed with intricate symbols that dance beneath my touch.
“What is this?” I ask.
“A piece of history from our archives,” he says. “Stories of powerful mages from an era long past. I thought it might resonate with you.”
