Page 17

Chapter Seventeen

Jasce

Moonlight spills through the tall windows in Aleksander’s bedchamber, and a single torch burns faintly near the door. I press my back against the wall and flex my fingers as I imagine wrapping them around his throat and squeezing.

A muscle twitches in my cheek as I recall how he used to follow me around when we were children, mirroring my every move. Back then, I thought it was admiration. Now I see it for what it was—jealousy.

Foolishly, he thought if he acted like me, our father might notice him, but he should have known the only thing Jerrod admired was cruelty. Especially in his children.

Aleksander didn’t know it, but slowly, day by day, Jerrod tainted him—made him weak, pliable, bendable.

Aleksander probably doesn’t see himself as weak, but he is. Why else would he align himself with Asha?

She wants to destroy House of Crimson, and he will help her.

Fuck him.

The door creaks open, and Aleksander steps into his bedchamber.

“Lock it, coward,” I say, my voice cutting through the silence.

His entire body goes rigid as he spins toward me, his eyes finding mine.

“Lock the door, you fucking coward,” I say through my teeth.

His hand trembles as he reaches for the door handle, and the lock clicks into place.

I curl my fingers into fists, allowing flames to lick between my knuckles—begging for release, begging to burn him alive.

His chest rises and falls quickly as he takes a step forward. “Brother—”

“—don’t.” The words come out as a growl as I continue. “Don’t you dare call me that.”

He throws up his hands. “Calm down, or you’ll burn down this entire fortress.”

“Do you think I fucking care?”

“I think you love Annora, and you won’t do anything foolish.”

“Do not speak her name.” I close the distance between us in two strides and slam my fist into his jaw. His head snaps back, and he stumbles, catching himself on the edge of his desk.

He spits blood onto the floor as I tear a strip of linen from my surcoat and wrap it around my knuckles.

His eyes widen as he scurries to the other side of the desk, putting it between us. “Wait. We can talk about this.”

We most certainly cannot.

I round the desk and grab his wrist, twisting until he drops to his knees. His face contorts in pain as I slam my knee into his chest. The impact knocks him backward, and he crashes into his desk.

My fist finds his ribs—once, twice, three times, each hit driving the air from his lungs in sharp gasps.

“You betrayed her.” My knuckles sting as they collide with his jaw. “You bound her magic to you.”

He spits more blood onto the floor. “I had to—”

I silence him with another blow. His head snaps back again as he stumbles into the wall.

“You could have helped me,” I say. “Instead, you coveted what is mine.”

“It’s not yours. It never was. Not when your mother was from House of Silver. My mother told me everything.” He lunges forward, attempting to tackle me.

I sidestep and drive my foot into his back, and he crashes face-first into the ground. In two quick strides, I close the distance between us and jerk him around. Blood trickles from his split lip, his broken nose, the gash above his eye.

“You’re not even worth it,” I say as I slam my fist into the side of his face. His body goes limp as he crumbles to the floor.

One quick movement. That’s all it would take to end this. To end him.

I gulp in a breath through my ragged lungs and turn toward the door, knowing I cannot kill him. At least, not yet.

The lock clicks open under my touch, and I slip into the corridor without looking back.