Page 26

Chapter Twenty-Six

Annora

A breeze drifts through my open window the next morning, rustling the parchment scattered across my desk. My pulse thrums in my throat as I grab the half-finished sketch of Jasce and blow away the excess charcoal dust, then trace my fingertips along the curve of his lips.

If only he were here. If only he could kiss me.

I sigh when my sleeve snags on the edge of the parchment, smearing part of his jawline.

The imperfection somehow makes the drawing more real, more honest—like the way his hair falls over his forehead after training, or how his formal clothes never sit right because he can’t stop fidgeting with the collar.

A knock against my door jolts me from my sketching, and I glance up, wondering if it’s Tahira and Emerin. They usually join me in the morning.

Three more knocks quickly follow, each one harder than the last.

“I’m coming,” I call out as I move to the door and open it.

Instead of my sisters, Aleksander fills the doorway. The usual playful glint in his eyes is gone, replaced by something fiercer.

I turn away and hurry to the table, where my veil lies draped across a stack of books. My fingers tremble as I snatch it up and secure it over my face. When I turn back, ready to face his revulsion, his expression hasn’t shifted. No disgust twists his features. No pity softens his gaze.

“Come with me,” he commands, his voice devoid of the warmth it held these past weeks.

Apprehension prickles against my skin, fear that something has changed. “What’s wrong?”

“Now, Annora,” he snaps in a voice as cold as the northern winds.

This isn’t the same man who helped me distribute grain to the hungry, the one who defended me in the tavern. No. This is the Aleksander who bound my magic to his. The one who locked Emerin away.

I swallow through the dryness in my throat and step into the corridor as Aleksander turns and walks ahead of me.

Just yesterday, he helped Tahira arrange flowers in the great hall, teasing her about her choice of colors. Now his shoulders are rigid, his spine straight.

He glances over his shoulder. “Keep up, Annora.”

I grit my teeth and quicken my pace. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

What could have happened to make him behave this way? Is it something I’ve done? Something Asha said?

As we turn down another corridor, it takes everything in me to keep walking, to keep following him.

We descend a flight of stairs and head toward one of the side doors, where he pauses for a beat, then shoves it open. Sunlight floods the stairwell, and I blink against the sudden brightness as I follow him into the courtyard.

My heart seizes the moment I recognize the courtyard as the same one my grandfather used to execute his prisoners. So many people died here. So many families were fractured here.

Today, there is no crowd—only three men standing on the gallows, each one chained to an iron bracket. All three have gaunt faces and empty eyes, as if they died a long time ago.

My heart clenches as I stumble back a step, wanting to be anywhere but here.

Aleksander fixes me with a piercing stare as he speaks in the coldest voice I have ever heard. “Use your magic to kill them, Annora.”

No. No. N—

Horror slices through me as I obey, chanting those ancient Hematite words. Flames curl around my hands, then tear from my fingertips, engulfing the first man. His screams rip through the courtyard as my magic surges again, hurtling toward the second man.

My heart sinks as I unleash the final volley toward the last man, and he falls to the ground, his body crumbling into ash and dust.

I blink, unable to look away, unable to unsee what I have done. What I have destroyed. Horror claws at my insides, my chest, my lungs, but I still cannot look away.

I was wrong about Aleksander. There is nothing good about him.

“How dare you!” I scream, not caring if he kills me. At least then, I couldn’t hurt anyone else.

And well…he would be dead too.

Without thought, I lean down, scoop up a handful of dirt and rocks, and throw them at him. He ducks, and most of it flies over his head.

Anger smolders in his dark eyes as he scowls at me. “Enough!”

I don’t listen. I’m beyond listening.

Instead, I scoop up another handful and throw it at him. But the bastard ducks again, and it enrages me even more.

“You monster.” The words tear from my throat as I grab more ammunition. “You evil, twisted monster.” Another volley strikes his shoulder. His chest. His arm as he tries to shield himself.

“They were murderers, Annora,” he says, his voice far too calm, “and they were condemned to die.”

“I don’t care. You made me kill them. You made me an executioner.”

“They weren’t innocent—”

“—and who are you to judge?” I bend down, fingers digging into the earth until they bleed. “Your hands drip with blood. But mine?” I straighten, chest heaving. “Mine were clean until you forced this evil upon me.”

He raises his hands, palms facing up. “Annora, be reasonable.”

Bile rises in my throat as I throw dirt and rocks at him, but he ducks again.

“You’re acting like a child,” he says, his voice oddly gentle.

I bare my teeth, ready to scream at him again, but something shifts in the air as he speaks ancient Hematite words, and flames appear in his palms. They dance with an unusual brilliance of deep crimson and glistening gold—unlike anything I have ever seen before.

A strange warmth wraps around me, seeping into my muscles, my bones. And my rage dims, turning to embers, then ash. I try to hold onto it, to feed the fury, but it slips through my fingers like fog.

How?

Confusion clouds my thoughts as I sway back and forth. “What did you...”

He steps closer and speaks in that same oddly gentle voice. “You needed to calm down, Annora.”

I blink, but the fog doesn’t lift.

He grabs my arm and turns me back to the fortress. As we walk, the strange magic wraps around me like a warm blanket, muffling my thoughts and dampening the horror of what just happened in the courtyard.

I should be screaming. Fighting. Crying. Shouldn’t I?

Instead, my feet move, following his lead while a distant part of my mind watches through a haze.

The moment we reach my door, Aleksander releases my arm. “Rest,” he says, gentleness still threaded into each word.

I nod, though I’m not sure why, as my hand finds the door, and I shove it open.

The bed calls to me as I cross the room in a daze. My legs give out, and I collapse onto the mattress.

Sleep tugs at my consciousness. I try to fight it, to hold onto awareness, but darkness creeps in around the edges of my vision. I welcome it, allowing it to take me.

As consciousness slowly creeps back, it hits me. The courtyard. The gallows. The three men I killed.

Ash burns my throat as I lift my hands, staring at them in the moonlight. These hands once held charcoal, sketched beauty into the world.

And now…they’re stained with death.

“No!” Frantically, I scrub my palms against the bedcovers, desperate to erase what happened, but nothing changes.

I’m still a murderer!

My stomach heaves, and I scramble to the chamber pot, retching until nothing remains but bitter bile.

I stumble back to the bed and collapse onto the mattress.

This isn’t who I am. I’m not a murderer, but Aleksander is.

He reached inside me and twisted my magic into something ugly, something cruel.

What else will he make me do?

I stumble to the window, pushing it open to gulp in the cool night air. Stars speckle the sky, and the full moon shimmers with unwavering light.

How can the world remain so beautiful when such ugliness exists?

A shiver runs down my spine as I sink to the floor, draw my knees to my chest, and rest my forehead against them.

Count, Annora.

Just count.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

It doesn’t help. I doubt anything can.

A sob shudders through me, and I bury my face deeper, wishing I could disappear.

How did it come to this?

I press my palms against my temples, as if I could squeeze out the memories, but they persist.

Desperate for relief, I return to the bed, lie on my back, and stare blankly at the ceiling. Seconds stretch into minutes, minutes into hours, and eventually, dawn’s first light creeps across the sky, casting a pale glow through the window.

A new day arrives…

I close my eyes, not ready to face it.

Perhaps I never will be.