Page 69 of A Reflection of Silver and Crimson

Please don’t say it.

Fear spikes inside my veins as Jasce continues ripping apart my secret.“Asha is Hakan’s granddaughter. Areyouhis granddaughter?”

The fear slithers deeper and deeper, carving a path into my soul as I lie numb, unable to dive off the bed and escape his dissection.

“Asha is the oldest, then Annora. The two youngest are Emerin and Tahira. So, you must be Annora.”

The gods help me!

I try to scoot to the edge of the mattress, but he grabs my arm, keeping me pinned to the spot.

“No, you don’t get to leave,” he says, his voice a quiet but firm command that anchors me to the mattress. “Why is Hakan’s granddaughter in my bed?”

“I don’t know,” I say softly.

We both sit in silence for a moment as the haze that has been swirling around us clears and makes a path for the truth.

Jasce’s grip tightens. “No more lies. Are you Annora?”

Yes, a thousand times yes. I am Annora.

I’m not Lyra. I have no desire to be Lyra, but right now, a strong part of me wants to be someone he desires. Not this reflection trapped inside this frame.

“Yes,” I whisper. “I am Annora.”

He sits, and I brace myself for his anger, his wrath, his vengeance. But he’s strangely silent as he locks his gaze on the far wall.

My heart longs to call out to him, to get him to look at me, to really look, for him to see beyond the surface. To see me. The real me.

Instead, I lie in silence, waiting for the world to stop spinning around me.

“If you were working with Hakan, you would have helped him,” he says, breaking the silence that stretched way too long between us.

Helped him?

Does that mean Hakan is dead? Are all his men dead?

An icy chill slides down my back as I jerk my covers closer.

“What is your magic?” Jasce asks.

“My magic?”

“Yes, what can you do?”

“Nothing. My mother never gave me my rune, and she made me hide my flame from Grandfather.”

“So, your magic requires a rune?”

“Yes.”

Jasce stands and moves to the window. “Why should I believe you when you have been lying to me the entire time?”

“I tried to protect my secret by lying. But…” I rise to sitting and swing my feet over the side of the bed, “…I am not a threat. I just want to go home.” My voice breaks on the last word.

“Why should I trust you?”

A part of me wishes I had some elaborate speech prepared for this moment, but I don’t. Nor do I have words to make him believe in me.

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