Chapter 38

The sadness deepens,settling in my chest as I stumble toward the library, needing a reprieve from my thoughts.

I try to not think about Asha's letter, but her words will not be silenced. They're engraved into my every thought.

She wants Jasce dead, and it's all my fault. I should have never come here. It was wrong of me to do that. It was selfish and thoughtless.

All I have done is invite more war. More pain. More bloodshed.

I reach the Grand Library and shove the door open.

Why can't Jasce see things the way I see them? He believes in unity, and all I see are swords clashing and people dying.

Maybe it's because I have lived through so much death and suffering in my short life. From my twin sisters who died as babies, their tiny lives snatched away before they could barely walk, to my older brother, who was taken from me far too soon, leaving an aching hole in my chest. And lastly, my grandfather.

Each one of their deaths etched jagged scars onto my heart.

Now, Jasce wants me to believe peace is possible between our people, but I struggle to share his optimism. The angry letter from Asha makes it clear there will be no path to reconciliation. She speaks of vengeance, not forgiveness.

I enter the library and sink into a chair.

The door opens, and Zerah steps into the library and offers me a bright smile that lights up her eyes.

"There you are." She crosses the room in a few quick strides, her skirts swishing around her ankles, and sits near me. "I found something I thought you might like."

I try to summon a smile in return, to pretend that my world isn't fraying at the seams, but I fall short of anything more than a pitiful grimace.

Zerah's smile fades as she tilts her head to the side, studying me. "You look like you've wrestled with a storm and come out the other side, battered and bruised."

I did wrestle with a storm. A tall, strong, arrogant storm.

"I'm all right. Just tired." The lie falls flat, but I cling to it anyway.

"You are not all right, but I will not pry." From the bag tied to her waist, she pulls free a piece of cloth. "I was going through some of my things, and I found this. I thought you might like to wear it."

She unwinds the cloth to reveal a beautiful turquoise ring set in an intricate silver band. The stone glitters in the soft light filtering through the library windows.

"When I was a child, my mother told me it belonged to someone she used to know. I always assumed it belonged to Jasce's mother. Would you like it?" Zerah holds the ring out to me.

Mazaline's?

The thought haunts me as I take the ring from Zerah and examine the exquisite turquoise. The silver band is etched with delicate swirls and knots. I slide the band onto my finger, admiring how the blue stone complements my skin. It fits perfectly, as if made for my hand alone.

The only things I know about Jasce's mother was that she was from House of Silver, and she bound my soul with Lyra.

"Lady Dinah knew Jasce's mother?" I ask after a long moment.

Zerah nods. "Yes, they knew each other before either one of them ever married Jerrod. Mother even said they were once very good friends, though that changed after they both married Jerrod."

I stare at the ring, picturing a young Lady Dinah and Mazaline laughing together. It's a lovely image, though it makes my insides quake to imagine such closeness souring. I cannot fathom being friends with someone, only to have a man come between us.

My thumb brushes over the smooth turquoise stone. This ring likely means nothing to Jasce, but to me, it represents a broken bond between two friends.

I wish I could ask Lady Dinah about her friendship with Mazaline. About whether a part of her still cared for Jasce's mother, even after they both wed the same cruel man. But some stories are lost to time, their truth buried alongside the souls who lived them.

Zerah leans back against her chair and fans herself with her hand. "I'm so happy my mother isn't here right now. If she were, she would be trying to marry me off to some old man again." Amusement twinkles in her eyes as she holds up ten fingers. "She has tried to match me to ten different men this year alone."

I turn the ring again as I smile at Zerah. "Are they usually old?"

"Yes. Painfully so. One of them was so old, he creaked more than the ancient doors of the dungeon." She shakes her head as she continues. "He brought me flowers. Flowers, as if a bouquet could make up for the fact that I would have been a widow before my first gray hair."

Seeming to understand my need to just listen, Zerah continues talking. "There was also Sir Kaelan—handsome, I'll give him that—but he had the personality of a training dummy. All brawn and no brains." She rolls her eyes. "A conversation with him was like trying to draw water from a stone."

"That sounds dreadful."

"He was." She wrinkles her nose. "And don't get me started on the twins. Yes, twins. Mother thought it would be charming to consider them both. As if I'd marry two men at once."

Zerah leans closer, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Then there was Lord Barrik. Barely out of boyhood and so nervous he could barely speak. He spilled wine all over himself at dinner."

As she talks about another suitor who fancied himself a poet but could only rhyme love with dove, I allow myself to get lost in her words, to forget about the things I cannot control. Like Jasce.

Instead, I focus on Zerah, and the friendship I wish to build with her. I can do something about that. I cannot do anything about the feud between House of Silver and House of Crimson.

I know the reprieve is temporary. Soon enough, I will be thrust back into the conflict, but for now, I let myself enjoy this moment of friendship.