As I flip through the pages, they fan out like wings eager for flight.
He speaks as I continue to look through the pages. “Zerah told me how much you enjoy reading, and you mentioned wanting to learn about Sharhavva.”
“Thank you,” I say, tucking the book close to my chest.
“Enjoy.” He offers a bow and walks away.
I clutch the book tighter and head toward the bedchamber. My feet drag the closer I get, but I force myself onward, knowing I have no wish to be a coward. If I were, I would find a different bedchamber to sleep in.
I push open the door and step inside. The crackle of dying embers cast a dim glow in the room as I look around, but it’s empty.
I cross to the washing stand and pick up the pitcher. The sweet scent of lavender fills the air as I pour the cool water into the basin and splash my face with it.
Next, I slip out of my clothes and into a simple nightdress. The fabric whispers against my skin as I move toward the bed. I climb onto the mattress, fold back the covers, and slide between them.
My mind churns with thoughts of Jasce, of where he might be, of what he might be thinking.
I try to settle into sleep, but restlessness grips me. I turn onto my side, bunching the pillow under my head.
My body longs for sleep, for some escape from this relentless cycle of worry and uncertainty, but it remains elusive.
The bed creaks as I shift to my back and stare up at the ceiling. What if Asha and her army are closer than we think? What if they’re planning to attack Sharhavva under the cover of darkness?
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block out the relentless thoughts, but they refuse to be silenced. They grow louder, more insistent, until they’re all I can hear.
When I can no longer bear it, I throw back the covers and climb out of bed. I make my way over to the table where a jar of wine sits. With steady hands, I pour myself a generous goblet full.
As I drink, I conjure up calming memories, like spending time with Emerin and Tahira in the gardens of Bakva.
I drain the last drops of wine, savoring the way it leaves my limbs feeling loose and my mind pleasantly fuzzy. Lightness takes over as I set the empty goblet aside and make my way back to the bed, allowing my scattered thoughts to drift away as I climb beneath the covers.
Hopefully, sleep will claim me soon and grant me a few hours of blessed oblivion.
ChapterForty
ANNORA
Rain pattersagainst the walls of the palace as I sit by the window, attempting to lose myself in the pages of the book Aleksander gifted me yesterday, but my mind refuses to focus. Instead, my thoughts keep circling back to Jasce and the letter from Asha.
How can I pretend that everything is all right, knowing her intentions? Knowing more people will die because I came here?
The door creaks open, and my heart leaps as Jasce steps into the library. He wears a marked surcoat, and a sword hangs from his hips, but it’s his eyes that draw all my attention. They soften as they meet mine.
“Hello,” he says as he takes a chair opposite of me. “I know you’re not happy with me right now, but I made you a promise when I took you from Bakva.”
“What promise?”
“I told you I would take you to Rowena, and she would help you learn about your crimson magic.” He shifts in his seat. “Would you still like that?”
“Yes.” No matter what is going on, it’s important that I understand how to wield Lyra’s crimson magic.
He stands and turns toward the door. “Follow me.”
Nerves settle in my stomach as I stand and follow Jasce from the room. We pass by arched windows overlooking tranquil gardens.
“Are we going outside to meet with Rowena?” I ask as he continues walking down the corridor.
“No. She will teach you inside The Pyre Sanctum.”
