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Chapter Sixty-Four

Jasce

Over the last few days, my scouts have been relentlessly tracking Asha’s every move, and now we know exactly where she’s at.

This time, I intend to tell Annora everything before I make my next move. She deserves that.

I step into my tent and find her sitting on the mattress, braiding her long hair.

The bed creaks as I sit down next to her. “We’re closing in on Asha.”

Annora’s hands freeze mid-braid, and her throat works as she swallows. After a moment, her fingers resume their careful weaving, though they’re not as steady as before. “I want you to win, Jasce, but I don’t want you to kill everyone. I need you to show mercy.”

Her voice trembles with emotion as she continues. “They are our people too, and if you do not show mercy, you will carve the same path as those who ruled before you.”

Jerrod believed that mercy was weakness, that only power commanded respect. But he was wrong, and the only thing he commanded was fear and hate.

“If we choose mercy, perhaps they will choose loyalty,” she says, her voice soft, yet firm.

“Do you believe House of Silver will eventually stand with us if we show them mercy?”

“I believe they want what we all want—a home, safety, a future for their families. If we offer them that, why wouldn’t they accept?”

“And if they don’t? If they see mercy as an opportunity to strike us down?”

“Then, we’ll deal with that. But at least we will have tried to break the cycle.”

“All right,” I say, needing peace between our houses. “We will show whoever surrenders mercy.”

Relief softens her features. “Thank you, Jasce.”

“Don’t thank me yet. We have a lot of work ahead of us. Uniting our houses will not be easy.”

“I know,” she says after a while. “But it’s what I want more than anything.”

I reach out and catch loose strands of her hair, tucking them behind her ear. “My father tried to teach me that mercy was weakness, but I never believed him.”

Her hands drop to her lap. “He was wrong about many things.”

“Yes, he was.” He was a fucking bastard who ruined lives and destroyed his family. And I will not apologize for my part in stopping him.

“My father wasn’t a good man either.” Her eyes lift, meeting mine. “He left us one day and never returned.”

“I’m sorry, Annora.”

“Mother used to say…” Annora’s voice softens as she continues to talk about her past, “…that he was like a spring storm. But storms pass quickly. They don’t leave permanent scars.

Do they?” She doesn’t wait for my answer.

“He was more like winter frost—the kind that creeps in slowly, killing everything it touches from the inside out. The kind that makes you forget what warmth feels like.”

Unshed tears shimmer in her eyes as she looks up at me. “Sometimes I wonder if he remembers the little girl who used to climb into his lap and beg to go to the sea. Or if those memories frosted over too, turning to ice in his mind. Maybe that explains why he never returned. He simply forgot us.”

The poetry in her pain strikes something deep within me.

How many nights did she lie awake, hoping her father would return? How many times did she blame herself for not being enough to make him stay?

“He took pieces of us when he left,” she says. “Little fragments of joy that we never quite got back. Mother stopped singing. And I stopped believing in parents who cared about their children.”

“When I was young,” I begin, “my father would take me to watch executions. He’d say, ‘This is how we maintain order, son. Through fear and power.’ But all I saw was suffering.”

“That must have been horrible for you.” She reaches for my hand and curls her fingers around mine.

“It was.” I push aside thoughts of him and focus on Annora. “I want to create a world where our children won’t have to watch executions or learn that mercy is weakness. Where they can be proud of their heritage—both crimson and silver.”

“Our children?” A small smile plays at her lips.

I grin at her. “Yes. Ten should do.”

“Ten?” She shakes her head. “Two seems more reasonable.”

“Eight then.”

“Three.”

“Seven.” I pull her closer. “Final offer.”

She tilts her chin up, meeting my gaze. “You drive a hard bargain, chieftain.”

“I always get what I want.” I brush my thumb across her lower lip. “And I want a family with you. A big one.”

“Four.” She presses her palm against my chest. “And that’s my final offer.”

“Six.” I capture her hand and bring it to my lips. “Because I know you’ll want more once you see how perfect our children are.”

She wraps her arms around my neck. “I love you, Jasce.”

“Good.” I pull back just enough to see her face. “Because you’re stuck with me.”

Her smile returns, brighter than before. “Promise?”

“On my life.” I seal the vow with a kiss—not gentle, not asking—but claiming what’s mine.