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Chapter Three

Jasce

Where are you, Annora?

Jude and Reeve sit nearby, their expressions grim as they watch me wear a path in the marble in my throne room in Sharhavva. I feel their concern, their unease at my agitation, but I can’t bring myself to care. Not now. Not when Annora’s still out there.

Over the last month, I have hired teams of men to search for her, scouring every inch of our lands and beyond. I’ve called in every favor, threatened, cajoled, and promised the world to anyone who can bring me a scrap of information, and yet, I still haven’t found her.

At night, I toss and turn in our bed, the mattress cold and empty without her. I reach for her in the dark, my heart leaping at every imagined rustle or sigh, only to find myself alone. Always alone.

The door bursts open, and one of my spies enters, bowing hastily before me. “My Lord, I have news of Lady Annora.”

“What have you learned?”

“She’s been seen in Bakva, My Lord.”

“And my brother, Aleksander?” I force the question, even though I already know the truth. Where Annora is, Aleksander is there too.

“Lord Aleksander is in Bakva as well,” the spy says.

Fury races through my veins. “I knew it. That fucking bastard took Annora.”

Concern sparks in Jude’s eyes as he stands and moves closer to me. “Why would he take her? It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Her magic.” The truth hits me as soon as I say the words—the truth I should have realized before now. “She has Lyra’s magic, and Lyra could summon a Phoenix.”

Jude’s eyes widen. “Fuck!”

I turn to the spy. “Find out everything you can about their whereabouts and what Aleksander is planning. I want every detail, no matter how small.”

The spy bows again before backing out of the room.

I look at my brothers. “I’m going to get her back.”

Jude places a hand on my shoulder. “We will get her back, but we need to be smart about this.”

Be smart? Be smart? When every fiber of my being screams to go to Bakva, to burn it to the ground, to burn my brother to ash.

“You cannot kill him,” Reeve says, as though he knows what I’m thinking.

“I can, and I will,” I say through my teeth.

The sunlight filtering through the windows glimmers in Reeve’s eyes as he folds his arms and speaks in an even voice. “He probably bound their magic, which means you cannot kill him without harming her.”

White-hot anger floods through me as I slam my hands against the war table, scattering maps, and papers. “I don’t care. I’ll find another way.”

“There is no other way,” Reeve says, his voice steady. Too steady. Too controlled.

I whirl on him. “Then, what do you suggest I do? Let him keep her? Let him use her magic for whatever game he’s playing?”

“Nobody is suggesting that.” Jude steps between us, hands raised. “But rushing to Bakva will only make things worse.”

“Worse?” A humorless laugh escapes me. “How could it be worse? My brother stole my wife. He took her magic. He…” My voice falters, snagging in my throat.

“We know,” Reeve says. “But if you want her back alive, you need to think clearly.”

“I am thinking clearly.” I turn away from them and brace my hands on the mantle. “I’m thinking about how I’m going to tear him apart piece by piece.”

“Jasce—”

“—don’t.” I dig my fingers into the stone, imagining it’s Aleksander’s face. “Don’t try to talk me down. Not about this. Not about her.”

My brothers know me well enough to recognize when words are useless. But they don’t understand how it feels to have her ripped away—to know she’s with him, to imagine what he might be doing to her.

“I’m getting her back,” I say, my tone low and determined. “And if I have to burn all of Bakva to do it, I will.”

Neither of them argues with me. They know better. Because this isn’t about politics or power or even family anymore.

This is about Annora, and I will do whatever it takes to bring her home.