Chapter 29

The hot,dry wind whips across my face as we ride through the city of Sharhavva. The red dirt kicks up in little clouds beneath the horses' hooves, coating my boots in a fine layer of grit. Unlike the cool greens and blues of Bakva, everything here is tan and terracotta. The squat buildings are all made of the same sunbaked mud bricks.

People stop and stare as we ride by, their eyes lingering on my veiled face. Jasce and Jude receive a very different reception. People line the streets, their sun-weathered faces bright with excitement. They cheer and shout the brothers' names. Children dart between the adults, waving scraps of crimson cloth like banners.

Finally, we emerge into a central plaza, dominated by a soaring pyramid-like temple made of the same sun-dried bricks. People continue to jostle for a view as we cross the square.

I cling to Jasce as our horse passes through the palace gates. The massive walls loom high above us, marking the boundary between the common quarters and the palace grounds. I crane my neck, taking in the sheer size of the defensive fortifications.

We trot down a wide avenue flanked by statues of horses and warriors with stern faces.

"My ancestors," Jasce says, noticing my interest.

I wonder if one day a statue of him will join their ranks.

The avenue terminates at an elaborate archway leading onto the palace grounds. Banners with crimson Phoenix emblems flutter from the top. Two guards bow as Jasce passes through.

We continue on through manicured gardens and past sparkling fountains that seem impossible in such an arid climate.

Finally, the palace comes into view, rising majestically before us. We dismount in a courtyard tiled in an ornate starburst pattern. Stable hands rush forward to take the reins of our horses. My legs wobble a bit as I regain my footing on solid ground.

Jasce turns toward the palace entrance where Aleksander and Zerah await us at the top of a grand staircase. Zerah's face lights up when she sees us. She bounds down the stairs, her scarlet gown billowing behind her.

"Brother, you've returned safely." She throws her arms around Jasce, and he returns her embrace.

Aleksander descends the stairs at a more measured pace, his expression guarded. He is nearly the same height as Jasce and almost as broad through the shoulders. His jet-black hair is longer, though, and worn loose around his face.

I stand beside Jasce as he greets his siblings, unsure of how to act. Though, I knew Aleksander and Zerah from my time in Lyra's body, to them I am a stranger now.

Aleksander's gaze sweeps over me, no doubt taking in my travel-stained clothes. I resist the urge to smooth my windswept hair or wipe the dust from my face.

"Brother," Jasce says, clasping Aleksander's arm. "It's good to see you well."

Aleksander returns the gesture. "And you. Your journey was safe?"

Jasce nods.

Aleksander's eyes flick to me again, a wrinkle forming between his brows. "Good. We were concerned when we received no word."

Jude moves forward to embrace Aleksander next.

As soon as they separate, Jude turns to Zerah with a grin. "Well, look who it is. Did you manage to stay out of trouble while we were away?"

Zerah makes a face at him. "Me? You're the troublemaker. Although..." A mischievous gleam enters her eyes. "I may have put salt in Aleksander's tea one morning."

Aleksander scowls at her. "Zerah…"

"Remember that the next time you complain about my singing," she says with a grin.

Jude laughs and pulls Zerah into an affectionate one-armed hug. "I missed you, little sister."

She stands on tiptoe to kiss his cheek.

My chest tightens as I watch Jude and Zerah's easy camaraderie. Their teasing reminds me of my relationship with my sisters. I can almost hear their laughter and see their smiling faces.

Do they still think of me fondly, or has my betrayal erased me from their hearts? I shake away the thoughts, knowing I really don't deserve for them to miss me after what I've done. I made my choice, and now I must live with the consequences.

Zerah turns to me next. "Who is this?"

Jasce shifts his weight, the movement bringing me a half-step closer to his side. "This is Annora. My wife."

A smile spreads across Zerah's mouth. "Your wife?"

Jasce nods.

She turns that smile on me. "Hello, Annora. Jasce's wife."

"Hello," I say, as my heart warms at her reception.

Aleksander's gaze jerks between me and his brother. "Annora from House of Silver?"

Jasce's grip on my hand tightens as he gives a single nod of affirmation. Something in his steely expression must give Aleksander pause, because the other man presses his lips together and doesn't say anything else.

Zerah moves closer to Arian. "It's good to see you again, Arian. Will you stay long this time?"

"I'm not sure." Arian glances at Jude, but he doesn't seem to notice as he says something to Aleksander.

Jasce's grip on my hand remains firm as he leads me up the staircase and into the cool interior of the palace. Aleksander, Jude, Arian, and Zerah follow us.

We pass through a doorway into a long colonnaded hall, our way lit by ornate iron sconces holding torches. The amber light glints off a row of armored statues lining one side.

At the end of the corridor, two guards are positioned before a set of double doors engraved with coiling Phoenixes. They pull the doors open as we approach, then stand aside to let us pass.

Jasce leads me into an enormous dining hall with soaring ceilings held aloft by rows of carved marble pillars. Banners embroidered with crimson Phoenix's hang between each pillar.

My eyes are drawn to the long table dominating the center of the room, already laden with platters of food and pitchers of wine. The aromas of roasted meat, warm bread, and unfamiliar spices mingle in the air, making my stomach rumble.

Jasce guides me to the chair on his right at the head of the table and holds it for me. I settle into my chair and rest my hands on the wooden arms.

Across from me, Zerah sinks into her chair and arranges her scarlet cotehardie around her. Arian sits next to her, and they fall into conversation.

Servants in white surcoats circulate the room, filling goblets and serving the meal. My mouth waters as platter after platter is presented: slices of juicy roasted lamb still sizzling from the fire, a whole fish with scales that gleam like molten gold, mushrooms swimming in creamy sauce, and piles of fruits and vegetables.

Nerves coil in my stomach as I reach up to untie the veil covering my face. The filmy material slips away, baring my scars for all to see. I fold the veil neatly and set it beside my plate.

Heat creeps up my neck as I meet Zerah's gaze. Her eyes widen briefly before she presses her lips together and looks down at her plate. Jude doesn't react at all. He merely spears a slice of lamb with his knife, as if nothing is amiss.

Aleksander pauses, his goblet halfway to his lips, when his eyes land on me.

The knot in my stomach twists tighter, and I fight the urge to grab my veil and hide my marred skin from view.

Aleksander's expression remains inscrutable as he finally lifts his goblet the rest of the way to his mouth. He takes a long sip of the ruby red wine, his gaze never leaving my face.

For all his staring, he does not seem repulsed or startled by my scars.

Gradually, my nerves settle, and I lift my head higher, determined not to let my self-consciousness ruin the meal. One scarred girl eating the midday meal with House of Crimson royalty—surely, stranger things have happened in this palace.

After I finish the last of the fish on my plate and set down my fork, Jasce rises from his seat. He reaches for my arm and helps me to my feet.

He doesn't speak a word to any of his siblings as he leads me from the room. We pass numerous archways and corridors branching off the main hall, but Jasce does not slow his brisk pace. Though my legs are shorter, I quicken my steps to match Jasce's longer strides.

Finally, we reach the door leading to our bedchamber. I step inside first, and he follows me.

He makes no move to pull me into his arms or guide me toward the bed dominating one side of the space. He merely stands, still holding my hand, his thumb gently stroking my knuckles.

I lift my free hand to his chest, feeling the pounding of his heart beneath my palm. Ever so slowly, he releases my other hand and moves to cup my face between his calloused palms. They span the ruined side of my face just as tenderly as the unmarred side.

He leans down, capturing my mouth against his. My heart stutters, then races, as though I've sprinted the length of the palace halls. When he deepens the kiss, I slide my fingers up over his shoulders, twining them behind his neck.

Jasce's hands roam over my back, tracing paths that sear through the fabric of my surcoat. His touch is both a balm and a flame, soothing yet igniting a fire within me that craves more.

I'm used to counting when upset, using numbers as shields against pain or sorrow, but there is no need for numbers when I'm with Jasce.

Something inside me clicks into place, a sense that this is where I am meant to be. The feeling is so profound it almost overwhelms me, yet it's not suffocating but liberating, like finding wings when you've only known chains.

It gives me a boldness I have never felt before. I grab Jasce's weapon belt and remove it. The entire time, he remains silent, allowing me this, as if he understands my need to touch him.

Once I have the belt removed, I grasp the end of his surcoat and help lift it over his head. When I'm finished, I set it on the nearby table and turn to take in the sight of Jasce standing there with his chest bare.

I roam my gaze over his broad shoulders, the sculpted muscles that ripple across his chest and abdomen. My fingers tremble as I reach out to skim his chest with my knuckles.

Jasce stands motionless as I trace the lines of muscle that taper down to his waist. Each ridge and valley under my fingers tell me more about him than words ever could. His strength is not just physical. It's in the way he holds himself, the way he speaks, the way he fights for what he believes in.

With one hand, he yanks at the ribbon binding my surcoat until it loosens enough for him to yank it down. I step out of it quickly, eager to feel his touch against my bare skin. He wastes no time in removing my pants and undergarments as well until I am standing naked before him.

Then, he picks me up and backs me against the wall. The rough touch of stone against my back does nothing to deter the need building within me.

He lifts one of my legs and wraps it around his waist, shifting us so that he can press himself more firmly against me. My fingers dig into his hair as he moves to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses down my neck.

His movements turn urgent as he lifts me higher against the wall, and I wrap my other leg around his waist to steady myself.

He shifts enough to free himself, and with a swift, powerful thrust, he fills me. It's not gentle or tentative. It's raw and primal, as if he's claiming me again, claiming me as chieftain of this city.

A loud moan tears from my throat as he drives harder, deeper. He echoes my cry as he loses himself in me. The tension in his body becomes my tension, his pain my pain, his hopes my hopes.

I feel his release as surely as I feel my own, the heat of it spreading through me, grounding me in the aftermath of our passion. He shudders against me, and I cling to him, knowing I want this moment to last.

Gradually, as our breathing slows, he loosens his grip on me and lowers me onto my feet.

His eyes lock with mine. "I want you to know that you are my equal, and as my wife, you will never stand behind me. You will stand with me." Sunlight slants through the windows, illuminating his face, and the sincerity sketched into his features.

I bring my hand against his chest, feeling his heart throbbing beneath my palm. "I want to be with you, to work alongside you."

"You will." He trails his fingertips along my jaw. "I am not like my father. It's very important that you understand that. He treated women worse than cattle."

"My grandfather was the same way."

"I am not them. I will cherish you, Annora."

Something in me breaks free of the chains Grandfather placed around me. Something scarred, but never broken. Something tattered, but never torn.