Page 11

Chapter Eleven

Annora

The afternoon sun streams through the palace windows, casting long shadows across the marble floors as Tahira and I make our way back from the gardens later that day.

She grins as she recounts a story about the time she convinced one of the cooks to let her help bake bread—only to end up covered head to toe in flour.

“And then…” Tahira clutches her sides as she continues, “…I sneezed, and the entire kitchen looked like it had snowed inside.”

A grin tugs at my lips as I swipe strands of hair behind my ears. “I remember that day. Mother was so cross with you.”

“It was worth it. That bread was delicious, even if it was a bit...” Tahira scrunches her nose, searching for the right word.

“Crunchy?”

Mirth dances in her eyes as she bumps her shoulder against mine. “I was going to say well done, but crunchy works too.”

We pause at the intersection where our paths diverge—her bedchambers to the left, mine to the right.

“Do you want to meet the same time tomorrow?” she asks as she backs toward her room.

“Of course,” I say, knowing these walks have become our daily ritual—a ritual I desperately need right now.

“Don’t forget to bring those sketches you promised to show me,” she calls over her shoulder before disappearing into her bedchamber.

As I turn and step into my own bedchamber, my gaze falls on a folded piece of parchment on the floor. I lean down to scoop it up and unfold it.

Go to the cellar.

I read the message again, searching for more—a signature, any hint of who sent it.

Jasce?

My heart races as I envision him close enough to leave this message, close enough to pull me into his arms, close enough to kiss me.

Please let it be him, Olah.

Please.

But as quickly as my joy soars, apprehension thrums against my chest. What if Aleksander or Asha found this letter?

The hem of my gown lashes against my legs as I pivot and toss the parchment into the fireplace.

Please be Jasce.

Please.

Quickly, I straighten my veil and slip out of my bedchamber. As I round the corner, I nearly collide with Breda carrying a tray of goblets.

She curtsies. “Forgive me, My La—Annora.”

“It’s all right.” I offer her a bright smile as I hurry past her and head to the stairs near the kitchen.

Hurry.

Faster.

Memories flood my thoughts as I quicken my pace—such beautiful memories. The way Jasce cups my face. The way he kisses me.

At the bottom of the steps, I pause and glance around. Darkness crowds around me, broken only by thin shafts of light. I squint into the gloom, searching for any sign of him.

“Annora.”

My heart leaps at that familiar deep voice. I whirl to my left and find him stepping from the shadows—solid and real and here .

“Jasce.” His name tears from my throat as I rush to him and throw myself into his arms.

I yank my veil free, then rise on my tiptoes, and crush my mouth to his—thirty-six days of longing and desperation pouring into the kiss. His arms lock around me as he pulls me closer.

Finally!

Tenderly, lovingly, his hands trace down my back, mapping the curve of my body, the flare of my hips.

I need more—his touch, his taste, his heat.

We kiss until everything else fades away and there is only him. Only us. Only now.

The rough wall scrapes against my back as he pushes me against it, but I barely notice. Not with the need burning between my thighs.

He lifts me and presses me harder against the wall. I wrap my legs around his waist and trace the line of his throat with my lips—telling him how much I love him, how much I missed him.

His grip tightens as he groans.

Yes!

I capture his mouth again, pouring everything I feel into the kiss. The loneliness of our separation. The ache of missing him.

He breaks away first and speaks between quick breaths. “I missed you so much.”

I look up at his handsome face. He looks the same as he always does—black hair, brown eyes with golden flecks, and bronzed skin. “I missed you desperately.”

“Desperately?” He smiles and pulls me against him again. “Show me.”

Boldly, I frame his face and kiss him.

Does he know what he is to me?

My bulwark. My safety. My island in the midst of a vast ocean—the ocean his brother threw me into.

One of Jasce’s hands slides up my side, while the other grips my hip tight enough to bruise.

I don’t care.

Let him mark me. Let him brand me. Let the whole world see that I belong to him and him alone.

I’m tired of hiding, concealing, fearing the unknown.

It’s time to fly. Really fly.

My legs tighten around his waist as he rolls his hips against mine, sweeping his tongue across my bottom lip.

He’s everything I’ve searched for. Everything I’ve ever wanted.

And he’s my home. Not a place, but a person. My person—the one the gods created just for me.

The other half of my soul who crossed kingdoms and broke through enemy lines just to hold me again. And as his mouth moves against mine, I know with absolute certainty that this is what the poets write about, what the minstrels sing of—this all-consuming, world-shattering love.

“Annora,” he says as he breaks our kiss. “I thought of you every moment. And I searched everywhere for you. When I couldn’t find you...” The usual strength in his voice falters, replaced by a roughness, an urgency, as if he needs me to know how much he longed for me. “The thought of losing you...”

I cup his face in my hands. “I’m here now.”

Those intense eyes lock with mine, burning with emotion, with love.

“I need you to know something. Everything I am, everything I have—it’s yours.

It’s been yours since the moment I fell in love with you.

” His grip tightens, anchoring me against him as he continues.

“When I thought I’d lost you, I realized something. I don’t just want you. I need you.”

He needs me?

How ironic when I’m the one who falls apart when he’s not near.

Every day, without him, I try to live, to thrive, but it’s nearly impossible to add bricks of happiness when all I’m handed is glass. Not mortar. Not bricks. Just glass. So much glass.

How fragile it is. How breakable.

One small rock, one careless action, one wrong word, and I will shatter.

“You’re my fire,” I say as I smile at him.

“I’m a fire?”

Using my index finger, I trace the line of his jaw. “Yes, but not the destructive kind that burns everything in its path, but the kind that warms a hearth and guides lost travelers home.” I press my forehead to his shoulder. “And I was so lost without you.”

A creak echoes from above, and I gasp, jerking my eyes to the ceiling.

“You need to go,” I say, though every fiber of my being screams against sending him away. The alternative is too terrible to contemplate—Asha finding him, locking him up, then executing him.

“No.” Jasce’s jaw sets in that stubborn way I know too well. “I’m not leaving without you.”

I hold my palms against his chest. “You know I can’t leave. The binding...” My voice catches in my throat. “I am tethered here.”

“Then, I’ll kill Aleksander,” Jasce says through clenched teeth.

“Please, Jasce. You have to go.”

He stiffens and lowers me to my feet.

“Are you angry with me, Jasce?” My heart aches, throbbing inside my chest. “Do you blame me?”

His expression softens. “No. Never. I’m furious with my brother.”

My hands tremble as I cup Jasce’s face again. “Go, Jasce, and I promise I will come to you at the stables,” I say, guessing that he’s probably staying at the same place as last time.

Instead of listening to me, he pulls me against his chest. “Your place is with me.”

“I know it is.” I fist my fingers around his surcoat, holding on to him. “But I have to fix this first. What Aleksander did...” I can hardly think about what he did—how he tricked me inside of The Hollow and bound my magic to him.

The gold flecks in Jasce’s eyes flash like fiery embers.

“Jasce.” I bring myself even closer, desperate to soothe the rage simmering beneath his skin. “Calm down, please .”

The anger in his gaze dims slightly, but the tension in his jaw remains.

“I promise you, Aleksander will not win,” I say, hoping that Jasce believes me. “I won’t let him. I’ll find a way to break the binding.”

“You cannot stop him, Annora. That’s the way it works. He controls your magic, and he controls you,” Jasce says, his words etched with bitterness.

My heart tightens painfully in my chest. “I refuse to think there isn’t a way out.”

Please, Olah.

Help me find a way out of this nightmare.

I beg of you.

“Do you understand what he could make you do?” Jasce asks, his tone thick with anger.

“I do. But Jasce, listen—”

“—no. You listen.” He continues, his words full of sincerity that I don’t want to hear. “Aleksander wants power. He’s always wanted it. And now that he has you, he won’t hesitate to use you to get what he wants.”

My legs weaken, and I tighten my grip on Jasce’s surcoat, longing for him to sweep me from this place. But he can’t. Nobody can.

This is something I must figure out.

And unfortunately— very unfortunately—he’s right about Aleksander. Right about what he could force me to do.

“I could hurt people.” My throat tightens as I add, “I could hurt you .”

“Look at me.” Jasce cups my chin, tilting my face up to meet his eyes. “That’s not going to happen.”

Footsteps echo above us, reminding me that Jasce isn’t safe here.

“Go.” My voice breaks. “Please, Jasce. I can’t watch them hurt you.”

“I won’t leave—”

“—you have to.” I shove him toward the hidden passage. “Go. Now.”

His shoulders stiffen, muscles rippling beneath his surcoat.

“I love you,” I say as I push him again. “And I need you alive.”

He turns, frames my face, and crushes his mouth against mine. Then, he tears himself away, disappearing into the shadows of the passage just as the cellar door creaks open.

“There you are.” Tahira’s voice carries down the stairs as she appears at the top. “I’ve been searching everywhere for you.”

I gulp in a quick breath and will my breathing to steady as Tahira descends the steps.

“What are you doing down here?” she asks.

“I needed...” My mind races, searching for an excuse. Any excuse. “…a moment alone.”

She reaches the bottom step and stops near me. “Asha wants to see you.”

Ice spreads through my veins as I imagine Asha discovering Jasce.

Somehow, I still manage a calm voice. “Why?”

“She wouldn’t say.” Tahira shifts her weight from foot to foot. “But Aleksander’s with her.”

Of course he is.

“Annora?” Tahira takes a step closer. “You look pale.”

“I’m all right,” I say as I force my legs to move, to climb the steps, each one feeling like scaling a mountain.

“Did Asha seem angry?” I ask after a moment.

“No. She seemed happy.”

Asha’s happy?

She’s never happy these days—more like morose and empty. So very empty.

I walk quicker, determined to get this over with as fast as possible.

Tahira glances over at me, her brow pinching together as she speaks. “Are you certain you’re all right, Rora?”

“Yes,” I lie—and the gods know I hate lying to my sister—but I cannot tell her how I’m falling apart inside.