Thousands of men died that day—all so the crimson insurgent could become chieftain. Ever since, the houses have been locked in a bitter feud.
The Phoenix cries out again, its wail piercing my heart. The cliff and carnage below fade as time swirls and twists around me.
The invisible force tugs me away from the gruesome scene as the world blurs into a wash of color and light. The force settles me in front of a humble cottage nestled against the base of a towering mountain. The thatched roof and weathered wood exude a simple charm. A curl of smoke rises lazily from the stone chimney, dissolving into the crisp mountain air.
The door opens, and Mazaline, Jasce’s mother, steps out. “Hello, Annora.”
I open my mouth, but I find no words.
She gestures for me to come inside. “Step inside. I have been wanting to speak to you.”
“H-how?” I lick my lower lip, hating that I’m stammering like a frightened child.
My hands tremble as I stare at Mazaline’s smiling face. This is impossible. She’s been dead for over a summer. How can she be here?
“The Phoenix brought you to me.”
“But y-your dead.” I choke out.
She smiles. “Yes. Now come inside. We have a lot to talk about.”
I walk on shaky legs into the cottage, my boots scuffing against the worn wooden floor. It’s completely empty inside. There are no chairs, no tables, no bed—just a cold hearth in the center of the single room.
I wrap my arms around myself as Mazaline steps inside behind me.
Her plain surcoat swirls around her legs as she shuts the door and turns to face me. “You want to know why I linked your soul with Lyra’s.”
“Yes.”
“Because I believed in you,” she says. “Your strength. Your endurance. You will be the one to unite House of Silver and House of Crimson.”
I shake my head. “But we never met before Asha brought you to heal me. How would you know those things about me?”
She smiles again. “We have met. You just don’t recall. You were a child, and your grandfather ordered you to stay in your room. You sneaked into the Great Hall anyway and hid behind the curtain. He didn’t notice you, but I did.”
Instinctively, I raise my hand to my scarred cheek, fingertips brushing over the rough, uneven skin. Even after all these summers, it’s still a reflex to cover the blemish.
She watches me, her eyes the same striking shade of brown as Jasce’s.
Her words return, whispering in my ears.“You will be the one to unite House of Silver and House of Crimson.”
“It didn’t work,” I say through the pain in my chest. “Marrying Jasce. All it did was make my sister angrier.”
“It will take more than your marriage to my son to strip away layers of bitterness and hatred.”
“What will it take?” Even as the question leaves my lips, my heart clenches, fearing she will demand I leave Jasce.
“Sacrifice. Devotion. Skill. Talent.” She lists each word, as if reciting a recipe for dinner. But I know better. Nothing in life is ever that straightforward.
“Is that all?” I ask and immediately regret my sarcasm.
“Let me ask you a question,” she says. “How do you see yourself?”
The question churns through my thoughts as I think about everything that has happened since Jasce showed up in Bakva for my birthday. I was out of control when I used Lyra’s magic to save Emerin. I was scared when I left with Jasce. I was filled with hope when I married Jasce. And now, I’m full of fear.
Fear for Asha. Fear for Emerin and Tahira being left with our mother. Fear for what this war is going to do to Jasce and his people.
“I don’t know how I see myself,” I say honestly. “I want to be good, compassionate, loving, honest, reliable.”
