I drag my attention back to him. “I’m watching. Show me how it ends.”
William’s innocent game of good versus evil hits closer to home than he realizes. Except in real life, the brave warrior can’t simply swoop in and save everyone. Sometimes, the mostpainful thing is knowing when to hold back, even when every instinct screams to fight.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Aleksander
After dinner that evening,I escort Asha to her bedchamber, where Commander Titanus stands, just like he always does.
The moment we stop outside her door, I turn to face her. “I think it’s time we set a date for our wedding.”
Her vibrant blue eyes meet mine for a moment before she darts her gaze away. “Soon,” she says, her voice distant.
I study her, noting the tension in her shoulders and the way her jaw clenches. Something’s off, something I can’t quite pinpoint, but I will not press the issue. At least, not yet.
Instead, I bow my head. “Good night, Asha.”
She nods, and Titanus opens the door for her, and she slips into her bedchamber. I stand there for a moment before turning and striding down the corridor.
I’ve always been attuned to body language, but Asha is different. As much as I want to break through her walls, I know it will take time.
She’s been through a lot—more than I can ever understand. After all, I have never lost a child.
For now, I have other matters to attend to. House of Silver needs me, needs us, and I’ll do whatever it takes to ensure our success, even if it means putting my own desires aside.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Annora
I tightenmy fingers around a lump of charcoal in the library, and as I lean down to add shading, a strange sound filters through the stone walls.
The noise comes again—rhythmic, like waves against the shore. A frown tugs at the corners of my mouth as I stand and follow the sound toward the eastern veranda. I push open the door, where rain patters against the covered veranda, but the crowd below pays it no mind.
Hundreds of people pack the courtyard, their faces turned toward the palace as they chant in unison. “We’re starving. Give us grain.”
My chest tightens at the sight of children clinging to their mothers’ skirts, their tiny fingers twisted in the fabric. An elderly man leans heavily on a gnarled walking stick. Next to him, a woman with hollow cheeks clutches a bundle to her chest—a baby, wrapped in what looks like an old flour sack.
“We’re starving. Give us grain.” They chant again and again, their voices blending into a desperate roar.
I turn away and hurry into the palace, through the corridors, then into Asha’s parlor, where she lounges in her favorite chair. Aleksander sits beside her, holding a goblet of wine.
“Asha, there are hundreds of people outside. They need grain,” I say as I step further into the room.
Instead of glancing up, she flips a page. “The grain is for the people in the fortress, Annora. You know that.”
Desperate to help our people, I step closer to her. “There’s a woman out there with a baby. Surely, you will not allow a baby to starve.”
Aleksander’s gaze flicks between us, but he remains silent.
“They’re starving, Asha.” I shove loose strands of hair behind my ear. “Do something.”
The scratch of paper fills the air as she turns another page. “Iamdoing something. I am making sure we plant more fields for the next harvest.”
She’s not going to help them.
The truth steals my breath, destroying that internal dais I have always placed her on.
My chest tightens as I race from the parlor, through the palace, and out the front door. Rain pelts my face as I rush down the fortress steps.
