Page 29 of A Reflection of Lies and Truth

Anger smolders through my veins at the very idea of Annora marrying someone else. “You cannot marry him. You belong with me.”

A sigh escapes her as she sinks back to her chair in front of the vanity and turns away from me. The sight of her like this sends a pang through my chest. I step closer to her, but she doesn’t budge. She remains still as a statue, her gaze fixed on some distant point beyond the mirror.

“Is something else amiss, Annora?”

A tremor ripples through her like a gust of wind through a field of wheat.

I grab a chair, position it near her, then sit. “Will you tell me what happened?”

She sniffs but doesn’t answer.

I place my hands against my legs and lean forward. “Sharing your burden might help lighten it. Let me help carry it with you.”

“You cannot carry it, Jasce. Nobody can.”

“I am quite strong,” I say, hoping my attempt at humor might help ease the tension.

It doesn’t.

“Is this about what Asha wants from you? You feel conflicted between your duty and me?” Even saying those words makes my chest tighten at the thought of her thinking about marrying someone else.

“No.” Annora looks up and brushes a stray strand of hair from her cheeks. “Why do I have Lyra’s magic?”

I blink, not expecting that. “Because you are soul linked with her.”

“Why, Jasce? Why am I soul linked with her? I didn’t ask for it. I didn’t ask for any of it.”

She pauses, her bottom lip trembling before she finds her voice again. “Nor did I ask to wake in your bedchamber in your wife’s body.”

Her eyes search mine desperately, pleading for answers I’m not sure I have. “Tell me why that happened to me. Why was I chosen for this? What did I do to deserve to have my entire existence upended?”

I long to reach out, to pull her into my arms and soothe away the pain and confusion, but I fear my touch would only make things worse.

She leaps to her feet, fingers curling into tight fists at her sides. “Speak to me, Jasce. I need to understand.”

I rake a hand through my hair. “I don’t know why my mother chose you. I only know that she wove the soul-linking magic into the painting before you ever crossed paths with her. It’s the only way it could have worked.”

“She has ruined me,” Annora whispers, her words so soft and broken that at first, they don’t fully register. When their meaning sinks in, they are like a dagger plunging into my chest. Annora regrets everything that happened, even meeting me.

“You aren’t ruined, Annora,” I insist, my voice firm but gentle as I stand and step closer to her.

“Yes, I am.” She waves her hands erratically. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t have killed two men earlier.” The moment the words leave her mouth, her eyes widen, and her skin turns pale.

“When did this happen?” I ask, trying to keep my tone even despite the shock pulsing through me.

“Does that even matter?” She sinks back into her chair and covers her face with her hands. “I’m a murderer. There’s no other word for it.”

“You aren’t.” I reach out to pull her hands away from her face.

“Yes, I am. You wouldn’t know. You weren’t there.” Her voice cracks, and a single tear slips down her cheek.

“Don’t cry.” I use my thumb to wipe away the tear, wishing I could take away her pain too.

She sniffs and pulls away from me. “My entire life, I have been forced to live the way others have wanted me to live. Grandfather kept me locked inside, and I accepted every chain he placed on me. Now...” She pauses and takes a deep breath. “I am being forced again.”

“By me?” I ask, my heart clenching at the thought that I might be the cause of her distress.

“By your mother,” Annora says bitterly as she stands and moves to the window. “I cannot stay in Bakva with crimson magic that I don’t know how to control. Nor can I be a prisoner again. I won’t do it.”

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