Page 7 of A Reflection of Silver and Crimson

Jasce's eyes narrow, his control fraying more and more as we speak. “Impossible.”

“Impossible is a word used by those lacking a vivid imagination.” The words escape me before I think of containing them. The quote is from my favorite book. I even wrote the saying on parchment and placed it by my bed.

He doesn’t seem pleased with my favorite quote as he closes the distance between us and meets my eyes, his stare piercing my soul. At least, it seems like he can do that—dive so deep, he sees my lies and my attempts to mask them.

I shrink away from him, cowering against the sofa.

He straightens and frowns. “What is wrong with you? You’re acting like a wounded fawn.”

“Maybe if you didn’t stomp around and glare at me,” I say, my voice soft, timid.

“You usually have something snarky to say, and you certainly don’t shrink from me.”

“I’m sorry.” The apology breaks from my lips, the words automatic by now. Grandfather has forced them enough.

“You’re sorry?” Something flickers behind Jasce’s gaze, something I cannot decipher as he studies me. “Have you been to the apothecary recently?”

I swallow hard.

I had been to an apothecary recently with Asha, but he’s not talking about that.

“No.”

“Did you drink any potions? Tonics?” When I stare blankly, his frown deepens. “You never apologize.”

My eyes drift to the door, to the key to my freedom. I already tried running.

What option remains?

Without a word, Jasce pours himself more wine and downs all of it. I watch him warily, my mind churning with a hundred different scenarios of how I would escape if I wasn’t trapped in this bedchamber with him.

“I don’t want to share your bed,” I say, needing him to know I have no intentions of even sleeping next to him.

He turns and removes his weapon belt. “Do you know what happened to the last person who defied my father’s orders?”

Jasce doesn’t have to tell me about his father’s cruelty. I have witnessed the chieftain’s destruction as it weaved its way across Tarrobane. Each of the five barbarian tribes has felt the devastation, but none more than House of Silver.

“Your father doesn't need to know everything that happens here.”

“He will know when your body never swells with my child,” Jasce says, the weight of his words settling over me.

I’m sure the chieftain is used to getting his way, but I am not his vessel.

I shift on the sofa and stare up at the painting on the ceiling. “I need time.” It’s a lie. I have no intention of ever giving in, but if I have time, I can think of a way out of this palace.

“You have had six months.”

“It’s not enough. I need more.”

Jasce folds his arms, and I brace for an explosion. But after a few tense moments, he surprises me by turning and walking to the door. He opens it, stands to the side. “I believe you can find your way to your bedchamber.”

I doubt it, but I’m certainly not going to miss this opportunity.

As I hurry to the door, Jasce speaks in a flat voice. “I will return to the North soon. But Lyra…we will settle this matter before my departure.”

I don’t know if it’s a warning or a promise, but there’s no way I will stay around long enough to find out. Bile rises in my throat again as I hurry out the door which, thankfully, closes behind me.

Alone in the hallway, I contemplate which direction to go. I look between the guards at both ends of the corridor and decide I need a plan before I try to escape.

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