Page 13 of A Reflection of Lies and Truth

I pull my veil on, then stand and slip the note into the folds of my gown. My pulse throbs in my throat as I force myself to walk slowly. I pass by gardeners who are using their silver magic to mend flowers and grow thicker hedges. They wave and smile as I walk by.

I wave back as I continue toward the fortress. The walls loom over me, their shadows casting long lines across the grass, as if they’re reaching out to keep me in place.

My mind races with thoughts of Jasce sitting in our cellar as I slip into the fortress. What drives him to take such risks, to sneak into the heart of enemy territory just to see me?

As I take the stairs near the kitchen, the damp scent of earth and aged wine fills my nose as I descend. I count each step as I go, trying to focus on them instead of the nerves skittering in my stomach.

What if someone follows me? What if they discover Jasce? What if he dies because of me?

Stop it.

When I reach the landing, I take in the shadows dancing across the stacked barrels and bottles that line the cellar walls. Then, as my eyes adjust to the dimness, I spot Jasce leaning against a barrel with that same infuriatingly confident smirk.

He pushes off from his casual perch as I approach. “Hello, Annora.”

“You shouldn’t be here,” I say, my voice low, as if a thousand people are standing nearby and straining to hear me. “It’s not safe.”

His brown eyes flash with something akin to amusement. “Are you worried about me?”

“Yes.”

“That’s sweet.”

Sweet? There is nothing sweet about my concern.

I let out a frustrated breath. “You need to leave Bakva now.” The words are more difficult to say than I anticipated, like trying to hold back floodwaters with bare hands.

“And why would I do that?” He steps closer, his proximity sending waves of heat coursing through me despite the cellar’s chill.

“Because every second you’re here puts you in more danger,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady.

“What if that risk is worth it?” he asks in a low, intimate tone. “What if you’re worth it?”

He removes my veil and allows it to flutter to the floor. The moment I open my mouth to protest, he leans down and brushes his lips against mine in a whisper of contact. My hands move on their own accord, gripping the fabric of his surcoat, and pulling him closer, as if I can hide him within myself and keep him safe.

The kiss deepens, his tongue sweeping into my mouth, and my mind quiets, all thoughts of danger and consequences fading into nothingness. There’s only Jasce and the fierce desire that burns between us.

Jasce’s mouth moves over mine with a possessiveness that should scare me but doesn’t. Instead, it anchors me to this moment, to this man who is so many things I should fear, but somehow, he isn’t one of them.

Not anymore.

So many things have changed in the last summer. He’s different from his father. Jasce doesn’t burn our villages the way Jerrod did. Nor does Jasce attack our cities.

I lose track of time as we stand there, locked in our embrace, the world narrowing down to the feel of his lips against mine. Everything could be falling apart beyond these walls, for all I care.

Then, reality intrudes, the creak of a floorboard above us, yanking me back to the present. We break apart and look up. Nothing but silence follows, and I wonder if it was just my imagination.

Jasce tugs me back toward him, and his lips crash against mine with renewed urgency. This second kiss burns away the lingering tendrils of caution and reason.

His taste is intoxicating, like wild honey laced with smoke. I drink him in greedily, losing myself in the sweetness of his lips as I twist my fingers in his surcoat, anchoring myself against the dizzying rush.

I need him to be the one to teach me everything. All those secrets. All those moments I have read about in books but never experienced.

His fingers trail down my arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. I know I should pull away, but instead I let him guide me, trusting that he will be gentle, though my heart pounds at the thought of what comes next.

His hands are sure but unhurried as they move across me, stroking and caressing until I am lost in sensations I’ve only imagined late at night beneath my blankets.

He cups my breast and finds my nipple through the thin fabric of my cotehardie. Warmth burns in my center as he makes it harden.

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