Chapter 21

Jasce's lipsbrush against mine, stirring me from sleep. I open my eyes to find him sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning over me.

"Good morning," he says. "I brought us some breakfast."

He stands and offers his hand. I let him pull me up and out of the cocoon of blankets.

Jasce leads me to the table by the balcony, where a simple breakfast is laid out—freshly baked bread, fruit, cheese, and a pitcher of almond milk. He pours me a cup as I sit.

Jasce takes the chair across from me and reaches for the knife. He saws off two thick slices of bread and places them on my plate.

"Eat," he urges with a grin and pushes the plate closer.

I take a bite of bread as Jasce selects some cheese and fruit for himself.

Last night had been the culmination of everything building between us. Now, in the light of day, doubts creep in. What happens when we leave this temporary haven? When we return to the real world—a world where hatred and old prejudices still linger?

Jasce reaches across the table to brush his knuckles lightly over my cheek. "Where did you go just now?"

I shake my head and offer him a small smile. "Nowhere. Just...thinking."

I finish the last bite of bread and take a final sip of the creamy almond milk. As I set my cup down, Jasce stands and comes around to my side of the table.

"Get dressed. I want to take you to the market today," he says.

I let out a shaky exhale at the thought of venturing out into the bustling city streets with Jasce.

"Don't worry. I'll be with you the entire time."

After dressing in a plain surcoat and braiding my hair, I arrange the veil over my face, knowing I'm still not ready to be gawked at.

Jasce waits by the arched doorway, looking regal and handsome in a dark blue surcoat. When I step toward him, he extends his hand. I hesitate only a moment before placing my hand in his strong grip.

Together, we make our way from the bedchamber and through the corridors of the grand villa. Jasce nods to the occasional servant we pass along the way. Most of them lower their eyes and bow, yet it doesn't stop me from wondering what they think about their chieftain with the woman who's wearing a veil.

We emerge from the villa, and I blink into the bright desert sunlight. The dry heat presses against my skin as we descend the shallow steps leading down from the villa's entrance, then head south toward the city.

When we reach the streets a short while later, they are already bustling with activity—children laughing and dashing underfoot and people moving from shop to shop.

Jasce tucks my hand into the crook of his arm and steers us into the lively flow of traffic. We meander from stall to stall, pausing to examine the various goods on display—vibrant textiles, gleaming pottery, and aromatic spices.

Jasce strikes up conversations with many of the vendors, his easy charm and genuine interest earning him smiles and laughter. He listens attentively as they regale him with tales of their crafts and lives.

Eventually, we come to the center square, where more permanent shops with elaborate archways line the edges. Jasce guides me toward a stone building with a sign painted in swirling golden letters.

"This is what I wanted to show you," he says. "Narhavva is known for its glassblowing. The artisans here can craft anything you can imagine."

We step into the shop, where intricate glass pieces in every hue hang from racks or sit on low shelves. Over in one corner an enormous furnace glows, while a wiry man shapes molten glass with dexterous movements.

"See anything you like?" Jasce asks.

My eyes are drawn to a collection of glass shells, so realistic I have to touch them to confirm they aren't real.

"I'll get you whichever one you want," Jasce says.

I shake my head. "You don't have to do that."

He lifts a spiraled shell from the stand and turns it over, so I can admire the craftsmanship. "I want to. Consider it another birthday gift."

Before I can protest further, he heads to the counter to make the purchase. I watch him, once again amazed at this tender, generous side of him that still catches me off guard. The glassblower wraps the shell in protective cloth and hands it to Jasce.

Jasce returns and presents it to me.

"Thank you," I say. "It's beautiful."

We leave the shop and wind our way deeper into the heart of the city, leaving behind the permanent marketplace shops. Here, the streets narrow into a maze of alleys and corridors flanked by smaller vendor stalls. Brightly dyed awnings provide patches of shade from the unrelenting desert sun.

I stay close to Jasce as we navigate the tight walkways, trying not to brush against the other passersby hurrying on errands or haggling over prices. The aroma of exotic spices mingles with fragrant smoke wafting from street food carts. My stomach rumbles at the scent of meat sizzling over open grills.

Jasce pulls us toward a stall selling skewers of seasoned lamb and chicken. He orders several and passes me one of the skewers. The meat is perfectly charred on the outside and so tender it practically melts on my tongue.

When we finish eating, we continue through the winding city, eventually coming upon a wider avenue. Jasce leads us to a stone bench in the shade of a palm tree. I smooth my surcoat and sit, grateful to rest my aching feet.

A bird sings in the nearby tree as I glance over at Jasce, taking in his handsome features. Even sitting casually on a bench, he exudes power and confidence.

The thought of being his wife thrills me to my core. To be bound together, to rule at his side, to share his bed each night. But I'm not foolish enough to forget the harsh truth. His people will never accept me as one of their own, and our union would undoubtedly upset Asha. She would be livid, seeing my marriage to Jasce as the ultimate betrayal.

I keep my troubled thoughts locked away as I follow Jasce back to the villa, but the moment we're alone in his bedchamber, he turns to me, his brow creased with concern.

"What's wrong, Annora?"

I sink to the edge of the bed, the weight of my worries pulling me down like an anchor. "I cannot go to Sharhavva with you."

"Yes, you can," he insists, his tone firm and unwavering.

Pain wraps around my heart as I shake my head at him. "No. Your people will never accept me as your wife, Jasce. It's an impossible dream."

Fire burns in his eyes as he speaks in a voice fierce with determination. "I will give them no choice but to accept you."

"You will be inviting war," I say, willing him to understand the gravity of what he suggests.

He runs a hand through his hair, messing up the strands. "I'm trying to invite peace. Can't you see that?"

"Asha will not stop attacking your army just because you marry me. And your people will not stop hating House of Silver because I am your wife."

Maybe I should have thought about all those things before I gave myself to Jasce last night.

The bed creaks as Jasce sits next to me. "I think you underestimate the power of your sister's love for you. Asha will not want to hurt you, and she will hesitate to attack Sharhavva if she knows you are living there." He reaches out and brushes a strand of hair back from my face. "If she understands that this marriage is for the good of our people, she will come to accept it."

She won't.

He doesn't understand the way my people think—how they feel they were robbed of the chieftainship when his house took over.

Asha will not stop, not until she gets what she wants or she—

I stop myself immediately from thinking the thought.

No! I would much rather believe Jasce's words. Much rather think that she wouldn't attack Sharhavva if I'm living there.

"Even if she stops attacking House of Crimson, those who come after her will not stop," I say, my voice heavy with the weight of this inescapable truth. "My people still believe they are the ones who are supposed to rule Hematite land, that it is their birthright. They will not relinquish that claim easily."

"I know, but if we have children with both our blood, we will be placing both of our houses on the throne." He stands, moves to the nearby table, and pours a goblet of wine. "We owe it to ourselves and our people to start the threads of change, to be the ones who end centuries of conflict." Conviction burns in his eyes as he turns back to face me. "If we do not at least try to bridge the divide between our houses, we are no better than our ancestors who spilled so much Hematite blood."

I take a deep breath, wanting to believe in everything he's saying.

He takes a long drink of his wine before speaking again, his voice low and earnest. "I know that peace is possible between our houses, and I believe in us. But our marriage will require courage and sacrifice from both of us."

I swallow hard and nod at Jasce, knowing in my heart that he's right. If there's any hope of weaving our fractured houses back together into something whole and beautiful, it will require us believing in the impossible and in each other.