Page 34 of A Reflection of Dusk and Dawn

Tighter and tighter, I squeeze the rock, hating it, hating that I still carry it around like some precious relic.

“You’re the spare, Aleksander. You don’t matter. You’ll never matter.”I slam my father’s voice away, but not quickly enough.

It still echoes, still taunts me.

Nothing has changed over the summer. I’m always coming up short, always second best to perfect fucking Jasce.

My chest tightens as I think about Annora and the way she stares at Jasce, like he hangs the damned moon.

Does she know what he’s really like? That beneath that shiny veneer, he’s just as ruthless as the rest of us?

No, of course not. Jasce has them all fooled, but not me.

He may have bested me today, but he won’t win this war.

I won’t let him.

A knock interrupts my brooding.

“Go away!”

“My Lord?” Breda’s voice carries through the door. “I’ve brought you dinner.”

“I’m not hungry,” I say, hoping she’ll leave me alone.

“But you haven’t eaten all day...” Her persistence grates against my already frayed nerves.

“Fuck!” Frustrated, I stand, cross the room, and wrench the door open. “Does it look like I can eat right—”

The serving tray clatters against the floor. Food splatters across my boots.

“My Lord.” Her hands fly to her mouth, her eyes wide. “What happened to your face? It looks awful.”

“What an astute observation.” I curl my lip, though it pulls painfully at the split. “Perhaps next you’d like to point out that grass is green?”

Her surcoat flares around her as she kneels, gathering the scattered food. “I’ll fetch another tray. And I’ll make you a poultice for the swelling.”

“Don’t bother.”

“You need to eat.” She glances up, determination written across her face. “Even injured lords require sustenance.”

A laugh escapes me, though it holds no genuine humor. “Is that what they taught you here? How to mother wounded nobility?”

“No.” She stands, clutching the empty tray. “That’s what my grandmother taught me. She said kindness costs nothing but means everything.”

“How quaint.” Exhaustion settles deep in my bones as I lean against the doorframe. “And entirely useless in the real world.”

“Maybe.” She shrugs, unfazed by my barbs. “But I’m still getting you fresh food and a poultice.”

“Save your kindness for someone who deserves it.” I push away from the doorframe, ready to slam the door in her face.

“Everyone deserves kindness. Even those who think they don’t.”

“What I deserve is to be left alone with my thoughts and this delightful collection of bruises my dear brother bestowed upon me.”

“Brooding won’t heal your wounds.” She shifts the tray to one hip. “But proper care might prevent scarring.”

“Perhaps I want the scars.”

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