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Chapter Thirty-Two

Annora

Sunlight streaming through my window wakes me the following morning. I groan, knowing I’m back in Bakva—alone again, lonely again.

A part of me wants to curl into a ball and never leave my bed, but I can’t. My younger sisters need me. My people need me too.

I grit my teeth, roll out of bed, and make my way to the washstand. After I clean myself, I pull on a plain blue cotehardie.

Golden light filters through the windows as I grab a brush and work it through my long hair. Then, I braid it, my fingers moving automatically as my mind wanders.

What is Jasce doing right now? Is he thinking of me too? Planning how to free me from Aleksander?

With a silk ribbon, I secure the end of my braid and stare at my reflection in the looking glass, seeing how haunted my eyes look, how sad.

I curl my fingers around the turquoise ring, drawing strength from it. Jasce and I will be together again. I refuse to believe anything else.

Determined to be positive, I square my shoulders and head for the door with my veil in place. When I open it, Breda curtsies.

“Lady Asha requests your presence in the throne room.”

My stomach drops. Why does Asha want to see me? Is it because of Aleksander? Does he want to use me again?

The doors creak open, and my stomach coils into a tight knot at the sight of Asha perched on our grandfather’s throne, with Aleksander—the bastard—sitting next to her.

Commander Titanus remains near the door, his eyes distant.

Knots tighten in my stomach as memories of those men in the courtyard overwhelm me. Their faces contorted in agony. Skin consumed by flames. Eyes staring into nothingness.

“Annora.” Asha smiles as she holds out her hand toward the empty seat next to her. “Come and sit with us.”

Sit with them?

Kill with them?

I swallow the urge to scream, to shout, to run as fast as my legs will carry me. Instead, I straighten my back and cross the distance between us, settling into a chair on the dais beside her.

“You wanted to see me?” I ask after a moment, my voice steady.

“This is where you belong, Annora. Next to me.” Her eyes meet mine, shining with an intensity that makes my chest ache. “Not against me. Together, we’re the tide and the ocean. Not one or the other, but the same.”

I glance away from her, pinning my stare on the murals adorning the walls. My gaze lingers on one depicting a great forest, where branches of different trees intertwine.

That’s what I want—to stretch my roots deep into the soil of my family’s legacy while reaching my branches toward House of Crimson. To stand tall and proud like ancient sequoias, not bend and snap like a sapling in Asha’s storms.

She wants to break apart my roots, make me stay here, and forget all about Jasce, but I can never forget him.

She leans closer. “I know you’re angry with me right now, but you will forgive me eventually. When you do, you’ll see that everything I have ever done has been for your own good.”

“Is it, Asha? Or is it for yours?” I ask, my voice calm and controlled. “I’m not your puppet, and I will not jump because you tell me to.”

She rolls her eyes. “Perhaps not. But remember, you are my sister. My sister. You belong to House of Silver. If our house asks for you to leap, you will leap.”

Sadness threads around my chest—such bone-aching sadness. She sounds just like our grandfather, just as controlling, just as bitter.

“Then, you do not want an ocean that stands with you.” Inwardly, I count to ten and find the strength to continue. “You want a shoreline full of sand that you can stomp all over.”

“I forgot how dramatic you can be sometimes,” she says as the door opens, and twenty men and women walk into the room.

They all wear black armor and face masks that conceal everything but their eyes and mouths. They line up before the dais, hands clasped behind their backs, feet planted shoulder-width apart.

Asha glances between me and them. “These warriors are the leaders of the Watchers of the Dawn.”

Watchers of the Dawn?

Wait, the Watchers of the Dawn? The mercenary force renowned for their lethal reputation?

They don’t just fight. They destroy their enemies before their enemies even understand the danger.

One of the men steps forward and bows—first to Asha, then to me. He’s taller than the others, with broad shoulders and thick biceps. A shock of gray hair peeks out from beneath his helm.

“This is Brathen. He is the general of the Watchers,” Asha says as she looks at me. “And this is my younger sister, Lady Annora.”

“It is an honor to meet you, Lady Annora,” he says in a deep, raspy voice.

I force a smile and nod. “General.”

He studies me for a beat before stepping back into line with the others.

Asha leans forward and rest her elbows on the arms of the throne. “The Watchers have pledged to protect House of Silver and our interests.”

Our interests? Or her interests?

My mind races back to what Jasce said last night—how he is fortifying his cities in preparation for more war.

My chest tightens as I imagine the devastation that more war will bring. The fields will run red with blood. Houses will burn. Children will starve. Families will be torn apart.

How many more people will die before this ends? And for what? Power? Pride? Vengeance?

There has to be another way.

But what way?

What can I do against the ancient grudges and festering hatred that have driven our houses apart for generations?

It takes everything in me to not grab Asha by her shoulders and beg her to stop this vendetta against House of Crimson.

“With the Watchers at our side, House of Silver will finally reclaim its rightful place,” Asha says, her voice ringing through the throne room.

“And where exactly is our rightful place?” I ask.

Her sharp eyes lock on me. “At the forefront. No longer in the shadows cast by House of Crimson.”

“By waging war? By spilling more blood?” My voice trembles as I press on. “Haven’t we lost enough?”

Aleksander laughs, the sound grating against my nerves. “Ever the gentle soul, Annora. Some things require a firmer hand.”

I ignore him and focus on Asha. “This path leads only to more pain for all of us.”

A muscle twitches in her jaw. “You don’t understand the sacrifices that must be made.”

“Then, help me understand,” I plead. “Help me see why more lives must be destroyed.”

“It’s for the greater good.”

“Whose greater good? Yours? Aleksander’s?”

Aleksander shifts his false gold from hand to hand as he speaks. “Careful, Annora. Your words tread on dangerous ground.”

I scowl at him. “Truth often does.”

Asha raises her hand. “Enough. This isn’t the time for bickering.”

The leader of the Watchers clears his throat, drawing our attention back to him. “Lady Asha, we await your command.”

She nods. “Prepare the troops. We march at first light.”

First light. The words echo in my mind over and over again. “So soon?”

“Every moment we delay gives Jasce time to strengthen his defenses,” Asha says. “We can’t afford hesitation.”

Desperation claws at my chest, my throat, my voice. “Asha, I beg you. Please reconsider.”

Her eyes soften just a fraction before hardening again. “This is our only option.”

“War is never the only option.” My throat tightens with each word. “We’ve seen what it brings. More loss, more grief. Is that what you really want?”

She sighs, and I hear the depth of her sorrow, her sadness at having lost her son. “What I desire no longer matters. This is greater than us.”

“It’s always been about us,” I insist. “About our choices.”

A smirk tugs at Aleksander’s upper lip. “Touching, but na?ve. Power doesn’t yield to sentiment.”

Frustration flares through me as I round on him. “And what do you gain from this? Do you think you’ll be chieftain?”

He shrugs. “Balance. Order restored.”

“At the cost of countless lives.”

His eyes glint as he leans toward me. “Some prices are worth paying.”

Anger burns hot in my chest. “Not to me.”

Asha places a hand on my shoulder. “Annora, please. Trust me.”

I search her face, looking for any sign of the sister I once knew. “I want to, but you’re making it so hard.”

Gently, she squeezes my hand, as if we’re sisters again, as if a pit full of vipers doesn’t stand between us. “You’ll see. In time.”

Brathen steps forward again. “We should proceed with the preparations.”

“Of course,” Asha says, dropping her hand. She gives me one last look before turning away and leaving the room.

The Watchers file out, their footsteps echoing like distant thunder.

Aleksander lingers, his gaze heavy on me. “Don’t trouble yourself with matters beyond your control.”

I lift my chin. “I won’t stand by and watch innocents suffer.”

“What will you do? Fight us? You can’t even control your own magic without me.”

The truth in his words steals my breath, but I refuse to let him see how he affects me, how he makes me want to grab a torch and set him on fire. I’d gladly watch him burn if it meant saving my people.

“Maybe not, but I can still make choices.”

He laughs. “Choices? Like siding with Jasce? Do you think he will welcome you back after everything?”

I gulp in a slow, steadying breath. “You underestimate both of us.”

“Perhaps,” Aleksander concedes. “But time will tell.”

With that, he leaves me alone in the throne room.

I gaze up at the mural of the intertwined forest, wishing I could lose myself among those ancient trees.

But I can’t.

I need to warn Jasce—to stop this madness before it begins. But with Aleksander holding sway over my magic and the Watchers joining Asha, it will not be easy.