Page 30 of A Reflection of Silver and Crimson

“I want to go to sleep now,” I whisper, still mortified by the way I acted in front of a bunch of strange men.

Jasce nods. “Stay here. I will fetch you a nightdress.”

With those words, he leaves his bedchamber. I sit numbly, my mind whirling with humiliation and anger. Anger for Lady Dinah because of what she did. Anger for myself for being so gullible.

Jasce steps back into his bedchamber and hands me a clean nightdress. I clutch it to my chest and hurry behind a screen.

When I emerge a few moments later, Jasce still sits on the sofa. I climb on the right side of the bed and slide to the edge of the mattress.

How could this have happened?

How could I have allowed it to happen?

I just wanted to do the things everyone would expect Lyra to do. Then, maybe I could survive here until I find Mazaline. Then, I wouldn’t end up like those men in cages. I wouldn’t die.

The moon climbs high in the night sky before Jasce joins me in bed. He stays on the opposite side, giving me that distance I need right now—that space Lyra probably wouldn’t need.

He feels the difference. I know he does.

Otherwise, he wouldn’t keep staring at me and questioning me.

How long can I last before he knows I’m not Lyra?

How long before he kills me?

ChapterTwelve

Loneliness gripsme as I sit near the window in Jasce’s bedchamber and stare out over the courtyard. Today is Asha’s birthday. She’s twenty-three, and I’m not there to celebrate with her.

She needs me as much as I need her. I’m her river. I keep everything flowing, everything moving. At least, that’s what she always tells me.

My heart aches as I stand and look around the room. Nothing here is mine. Not the clothes, the jewelry, or the husband.

It doesn’t matter that I resigned myself to never marry. I had found contentment in my life. It was mine!

Everything here is Lyra’s.

I don’t want any of it. I just want to go home.

A frustrated sigh escapes me as I hurry to the desk and grab a piece of charcoal resting on top of a stack of parchment. My mind floods with the memories of the life I was torn from. Everything I long for—my sisters, my mother, the libraries full of books, the seashells…

Unconsciously, I draw seashells on the parchment, etching them back into my life. They may not be like the ones Mother gave me, but they are a start, a piece of me surrounded by so much crimson.

I continue drawing until I fill every parchment with seashells. When I step back, a grin tugs at my lips.

There.

A part of me is here now.

ChapterThirteen

Charcoal stainsmy fingers as I walk to Lyra’s bedchamber and step inside. I eye her looking glass. It’s much larger than Jasce’s, and it will offer me a better view of this body that doesn’t belong to me.

Hastily, I remove all my clothes, then rotate to get a better view of her birthmark on my shoulder. The flame is about the size of a coin, and it sits on the outer edge of my shoulder.

Lyra’s magic.

I turn again, not expecting to see the tiny flame on my hip. But the bright orange and red birthmark is unmistakable. A gasp escapes me as I trace the raised skin, feeling the warmth, the undeniable heat.

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