Page 43 of The Great and Terrible

His expression never left the realm of serious, and I sighed. What topic caused such a serious shift in his demeanor?

“Remember your promise to me. This is payment for your room and board,” he said. “I expect complete honesty and speed.”

“Same,” I replied, a subtle reminder he owed me, too.

Stare unwavering, he leaned forward and braced his elbows on his knees. “You recall when the trapper mentioned your resemblance to someone, I’m sure.”

Not the direction I’d expected. “I do. He isn’t the first to mention it. But how did you hear him? You were off fighting rabdogs.”

“I’d already killed the pack and returned to you. The trappers had you surrounded. They were waiting until first light to make their move. Since you were so eager to rescue the drivers, I decided to let your captors lead me straight to their camp.”

In other words, I’d semi-mourned his death and bloodiedmy feet for nothing. Hadworriedfor nothing. Anger infiltrated my cells. “You couldn’t take a moment to let me know you were okay? They told me you were dead.”

He frowned, revealing a tinge of curiosity. “Did you care one way or the other?”

“Yes!” I burst out before I could think better of it.

His frown deepened, as if he were unsure what to think about my confession. But dang it, I did care. He might be slightly robotic and a beheader of innocents, but he wasn’t a bad guy. Mostly.

Jasher reclined in his chair, a picture of masculine perfection. His wet hair stuck out in spikes. The heat from the bath had given his dusky skin an almost rosy undertone. He wore a clean white tunic, with an untied V-neck that gaped, displaying the beginnings of his tattooed pecs. Black leather hugged powerful legs. No socks or shoes adorned his feet.

“I have eyes, you know,” he muttered, shifting his weight to the side. “You even bargained to peer into them.”

Oops. Mortification blistered my skin. I’d spent however long staring at his body.Leering. “Apologies. I was lost in thought.” Truth, if not the full truth.

Expression blank now, he picked up the conversation as though it had never lagged. “I, too, thought you resembled someone, but I convinced myself I couldn’t possibly be correct. Until the trapper offered confirmation.”

So the executioner had an idea of who I resembled. Good. “I’d love to hear your thoughts.” Wait. His expression might be blank, but his posture certainly wasn’t. He gripped the arms of his chair with white knuckles. Had my leering affected him perhaps? Or did his reaction stem from his suspicions, whatever they were?

I gulped as suspicions knocked on the door of my mind. What if he referenced my mother?

“Tell me about your mother,” he said.

I forgot how to breathe. “Who do you suspect she is?” Iknew Mom had visited or lived in Hakeldama. What I hadn’t considered until now: She might’ve been born here.

“Tell me about her,” he insisted.

Nerves kicking up a fuss, I rubbed the shadow ring. “Her name was Sandra Shaker. Sandra Ori before she married my dad. She was an artist at heart. Loved to draw and paint, but also to write.”

Jasher did nothing but breathe for a moment. The longer he waited to respond, however, the more he pulsed with iron resolve.

“What?” I demanded, wringing my hands. “Tell me.”

“Are you sure you wish to know?”

Yes! No. “Maybe?” Oh, my goodness, oh, my goodness. “Please tell me.”

He inclined his chin. “Twenty-one years ago, a king and queen ruled the City of Lux, a kingdom where the provinces converge and the beating heart of Hakeldama.”

Okay. So far I didn’t see a reason for his demeanor. “They are the royals you mentioned before?”

“Yes. Their names were King Ahav and Queen Sandrine Ori-Emet.”

Sandrine Ori’Emet. Sandrine—Sandra—Ori. Oooh. I gulped. A queen. Who’d been married to a king, here in Hakeldama. Twenty-one years ago, right before my birth. The fact that she used to tell me stories about a fallen king…

I peered down at the band on my finger. The colors appeared more vivid, as if a different gemstone filled each setting. “I don’t know how what you’re telling me is possible, but go on. Please,” I repeated with a croak.

“From the stories I’ve heard, both the king and queen were killed by monstra. Though there were whispers the queen escaped to your world…pregnant with her first child.”

---