Asha steps out of the room and strides down the palace corridor, her curls bouncing with each step, but it’s not her beauty that catches my breath—though the gods know she’s striking enough. No, it’s the way she moves, like she owns every inch of the stone beneath her feet.
The servants bow as we pass, their eyes full of respect. That’s the difference between Asha and most nobles I know. She commands loyalty through strength of character, not threats.
I’ve seen her in council meetings, outmaneuvering men twice her age without raising her voice, and I’ve watched her train with her soldiers, earning their devotion through sweat and skill rather than birthright.
As we round the corner, Breda scurries past, her arms full of freshly laundered linens. Her eyes catch mine, and that familiar,warm smile spreads across her face. I give her my customary nod.
Sweet, simple Breda. Always eager to please. She’s the perfect source of information about the palace’s inner workings. After one kind word from me, she spilled more secrets than any spy I could plant.
“Someone’s smitten,” Asha says after Breda disappears down the corridor.
I roll my eyes. “I simply understand the value of keeping the servants happy. You’d be amazed at what people will tell you when they think you care.”
“And here I thought you might actually have a heart under all that calculation.”
“A heart?” I hold my hand to my chest in mock offense. “How dare you suggest something so ordinary?”
“You’re impossible.” Asha shakes her head, but I catch the slight curl of her lips.
She pauses at a window, where the sunlight catches her profile, and for a moment, I see what others might miss—the steel beneath the grace, the fire behind those blue eyes. She reminds me of a sword forged beneath a blacksmith’s hammer. It’s stronger for the tempering, just like she is.
“Are you coming, or are you planning to stare all day?” She throws the words over her shoulder as she resumes her walk through the corridors.
I quicken my pace to catch up and grin over at her.
She shoves her hair over her shoulders. “What are you smiling about?”
“You,” I answer honestly.
Now that I have been around her for over a month, I understand why her people follow her…and I might just do the same.
Chapter Eight
Annora
The sun glaresthrough the windows, waking me the following morning. I blink through the bright haze and groan as the memories from the day before rush over me. Aleksander’s demands. Emerin being tied up in her bedchamber. The Phoenix.
I sit up and push the covers aside. As much as it tempts me, I can’t just sit here and wallow. I need to take action, to wrest some control over my situation.
A bird sings outside my window as I dress, pulling on a simple gown and running a brush through my hair.
As I slip out of the room, I cringe at the sight of Aleksander standing in the corridor.
“Come with me,” he says.
“To where?” I ask, unwilling to go until he explains.
“To the Argent Chamber.”
“The Argent Chamber is for people to learn how to use their silver magic. You know I don’t have my rune.” Maybe I would if my mother hadn’t disappeared.
Even if she were here, she probably wouldn’t teach me about my silver magic. It’s as if she thinks it’s cursed. Maybe it is. Maybe it’s better to not know.
Where are you, Mother?
Are you safe?
“Well done, Annora.” He smirks. “You know what the Argent Chamber is for.”
