Page 70 of A Reflection of Silver and Crimson

“Is Hakan dead?” I blurt out in a desperate attempt to change the subject and divert my thoughts. “Please tell me.” I stare into Jasce’s eyes, trying to read his face, to see proof. “Please.”

“He has been taken prisoner.”

A ragged exhale escapes me as I sink against my pillow. The people from House of Silver are going to be devasted when they find out.

“What does Jerrod do to prisoners of war?” I ask, needing to prepare myself for the inevitable.

“He executes them,” Jasce says, his tone heavy with grim certainty.

ChapterTwenty-Six

There is nowhere to hide,to crack as I stand next to Jasce, overlooking the largest courtyard. Four men stand on the platform below. I know every single one of them, but there’s only one man I cannot look away from.

Grandfather.

The sunlight casts a golden hue on his face, highlighting the firm lines of his jaw and the deep crevices of his cheeks. It reflects in the depths of his eyes, making them look like molten silver.

There’s a small part of me that wants to leap from this balcony and throw my body at his feet to stop this execution. As his granddaughter, it’s expected of me. To protect. To preserve the future of House of Silver.

But I cannot.

I don’t have it in me to protect him. Maybe I should. Maybe someone who’s able to forgive him would.

Jerrod raises his hand, and the crowd falls silent. “Today we squelch dissension,” the chieftain begins, his voice ringing loud and clear across the courtyard.

My heart pounds harder and harder as he continues.

“Those who go against the will of the gods will be punished. The punishment for treason is death. There is only one house. Crimson. Anyone that stands against it will die.”

I look past the platform, training my gaze to the line of trees as my legs tremble. Jasce stands stiffly next to me, his body rigid.

The chieftain nods at the executioner, who steps forward and raises his axe high in the air, and with one swift motion, brings it down. The crowd erupts into cheers as the man's head rolls off his shoulders, blood spurting everywhere. Bile rises in my throat as I sway against Jasce.

He tightens his grip as the executioner repeats the process with the next two men, leaving only Grandfather standing there, his eyes locked forward, his mouth tight.

The words I long to say to him scald my tongue.“Do you hate me? Is that why you locked me away?”

The executioner raises his axe again, and I close my eyes. I still hear the sound, the awful thudding of steel against flesh. The cheers from the crowd. My heart, slamming against my ribs.

“Lyra,” Jasce says with his mouth near my ear. “Come.”

Her name stings my ears, but I follow his request anyway, allowing him to lead me away from the balcony and into the palace. Everything echoes. Our footsteps. My heartbeat. Guards patrolling the corridors.

Jasce leads me into a study, but unfortunately, we’re not alone. Jerrod and Dinah trail us into the room.

Pride gleams behind Jerrod’s eyes, as if he’s proud of what he did. “There are no sons,” he says with triumph.

“Sons?” Jasce asks with a rise of his brow.

“Hakan has no male heir.”

My stomach squeezes as I stare down at my hands. It’s not true. Asha has a son, and Grandfather named him as his heir.

I must go back and protect my nephew from the same bitterness that destroyed Grandfather.

Grandfather’s face bleeds into my vision as the last words he ever said to me ricochet in my ears.

“Go to your bedchamber, Annora. I don’t want you scaring my guest with your hideous face.”

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