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Chapter Sixty-Six

Annora

The sounds of laughter pierce the tent, waking me from sleep. I sigh as I roll out of bed, knowing that soon I’ll have to face Asha.

Jasce is gone already. Probably preparing his men for the impending battle against Asha.

Oh, Asha.

How can you be like our grandfather?

You hated him, and now you are his reflection.

I squeeze my fingers into fists, hating that reflection. Hating that she has chosen to embrace the dusk instead of the dawn. Darkness instead of light. Evil instead of goodness. Power instead of meekness.

The morning air prickles at my skin as I shed my nightclothes and move to the basin. As I wash, my thoughts drift to Asha again—to the bond we once shared.

I dry off and pull on a clean surcoat and dark pants.

How did we come to this?

I long for the days when we were inseparable, when the world was bright with possibility and our love for each other was unshakable.

Now, as I tie my belt, I feel the sadness of all that’s been lost. Asha’s path has led her to a place I cannot follow. Nor do I want to.

As I turn to grab my seashell necklace, Aleksander’s voice echoes in my ears. “Annora, listen to me.”

I clench my jaw and imagine that invisible wall again—the one that shuts him out—and his voice fades.

Jasce had increased the number of flowers he’s giving Aleksander. Yet, Aleksander is still managing to break through.

How?

“Annora...” His voice scratches at my mind again.

I drop the necklace and press my palms against my ears, but it does nothing. His voice comes from inside, burrowing deeper with each whispered word.

If only I could rip this bond from my soul, tear it out like a weed from a garden, but it’s buried too deep.

I grab my charcoal and parchment, desperate to focus on something else, but the stick snaps between my fingers, and black dust sprinkles across the blank page.

“I know you can hear me, Annora...”

No!

Shut up!

I need air. Need to escape his voice.

I burst outside and nearly collide with a passing warrior.

“My Lady,” he says as he reaches out to steady me.

I shake my head, unable to form words as I hurry away, needing distance from this camp, needing to breathe, to think.

Dust kicks into the air as I head for the horse corral.

“Annora, wait.” Jasce’s voice cuts through the haze, but I don’t turn around.

I swallow. “I need to ride.”

“Then, I’ll go with you,” Jasce says as he reaches for his saddle. “Wherever you need to go, I’ll be right there with you.”

We mount our horses, and Jasce leads us to a secluded valley, where jagged cliffs rise on either side, their faces striped with layers of rust and amber stone.

A thin ribbon of green follows the path of a nearly dried-up stream at the valley floor.

Shadows pool in the deeper crevices, creating patterns that remind me of the charcoal sketches I like to draw.

I halt my horse at the valley’s edge, drinking in the raw beauty of this desolate place. The vastness makes me feel small, insignificant, and somehow that’s comforting, as if merely being here makes all the darkness inside me shrink.

We dismount, and I step away from Jasce and tip my face up to the cloudless sky. I reach deep within myself for my magic, desperate to know I can wield it on my own, just like I command my Phoenix, but nothing happens.

No response, no flicker of power.

Frustration rips through me as I clench my hands into fists.

Jasce grabs my hand and guides me to a flat boulder warmed by the sun.

“Will you talk to me?” I ask, knowing I need the distraction.

“What do you want me to say?”

I lick my bottom lip. “Tell me more about your life.”

He fixes his gaze on the distant horizon as he speaks. “I was really young when my mother left, and Lady Dinah tried to protect me.”

I lean my head against his shoulder as he continues.

“My father changed after my mother left. He spent days locked in his study, drinking. When he did emerge...” Jasce’s jaw clenches. “The bruises were easier to handle than the words.”

“I’m sorry,” I say as I imagine him as a young boy desperately missing his mother and trying to avoid his father’s temper.

Jasce is silent for a while before finding his voice again. “I promised myself I’d never become him. Never let anger rule me, but sometimes I feel it there, burning beneath my skin.”

I slide my fingers between his, offering silent support.

“When my father would rage, Lady Dinah would hide me in her chambers. She’d wrap me in blankets that smelled of lavender and tell me stories about brave warriors who fought dragons. But the real monster was just down the hall.”

My heart aches for the little boy he once was. “You’re nothing like him, Jasce.”

“Sometimes I wonder.” His fingers tighten around mine. “When I’m in battle, when the blood runs hot, and the killing comes easy...I feel that same darkness inside me.”

“No.” I turn to face him. “Your father hurt people because he could. You fight to protect others.”

Jasce’s eyes meet mine, vulnerable in a way I’ve never seen before.

“When I was twelve, I found an injured hawk. Its wing was broken. I spent weeks nursing it back to health, hiding it from my father because I knew...” A tic forms beneath his eyes as he continues, “…when he discovered it, he snapped its neck and said he was teaching me that weakness deserves death.”

“Oh, Jasce.”

“That’s when I realized I had to become stronger than him. Not just physically, but here.” He taps his chest. “I had to learn to control the rage, to channel it into something useful.”

I trace my thumb across Jasce’s knuckles as he draws in a quick breath.

“The hardest part was pretending to be the son he wanted while secretly working against him.”

“With Hector?”

“Yes. I’d stand there in the throne room, nodding along as my father plotted to destroy our people. Then, I’d ride out at night to meet with Hector and plan ways to save my people from Jerrod.”

The wind stirs Jasce’s dark hair as he stares across the valley. “I learned to wear a mask, to be two people at once. The dutiful heir in public, the rebel in the shadows.”

“That must have felt like you were walking on the edge of a blade,” I say.

“Exactly.” His eyes meet mine. “One misstep and everything would crumble. But I couldn’t let him destroy what was left of our people’s spirit.”

“You saved them, Jasce.”

“When I saw what Aleksander made you do to that village...” His jaw clenches. “That darkness inside me roared to life, and I wanted to tear him apart with my bare hands.”

“But you didn’t.”

“Because of you. You see the good in people, even when they don’t deserve it. Your heart is pure, untainted. Mine...” He draws back slightly. “Mine’s scarred beyond recognition.”

“Scars tell stories of survival.” I touch the scars on my face. “They remind us of what we’ve overcome.”

“My little philosopher.” The corner of his mouth lifts. “Always finding light in the darkest places.”

I press my palm against his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat. “You survived Jerrod, and you protected your people.”

His fingers thread through my hair. “You make me sound like some kind of hero.”

“You are to me.”