JingYi inclined her head.
Moving to the door, Yrenna paused at the threshold. “He will come when he is ready,” she said, her tone careful but not unkind. “Try to rest.”
JingYi swallowed against a dry throat. “Thank you,” she whispered.
With a final smile, Yrenna withdrew, closing the door behind her with a soft, definitiveclick.
JingYi remained where she was, staring at the Nest. It glowed in the firelight—lavish and soft. The sheer canopy cast gentle shadows that danced with the flicker of the flames. Little ravens overhead spun slowly on their ribbons.
And still, she didn’t move toward it.Couldn’t.
The Nest was beautiful—so beautiful it almost hurt to look at, but it had been built for the bride from the portrait. The one with a flawless face and steady gait, the one who walked without shame or hesitation.
Not for the woman with a marred cheek and a limp that wouldn’t fade.
Stepping inside would be trespassing into someone else’s life.
She sank into the chair beside the hearth, away from the Nest but unable to look away. Curling her legs beneath her, she pulled her robe tighter and stared into the fire as the shadows lengthened.
And waited.
CHAPTER 18
ALEXANDER
Alexander paced the stone courtyard, boots striking sharp against the flagstones. The cold night air couldn’t cool the heat under his skin. Above him, Parandor loomed, its walls lit by torchlight and moonlight—a fortress as unyielding as the storm in his chest.
He looked up at his room’s windows.
She was waiting for him behind those curtains. His wife.
He still felt the echo of his own voice in the great hall, and tasted the bitter residue of Bertrand’s toast. Still heard the silence she wore beside him after he’d looked at her—really looked—and recoiled.
Shame surged up, quick and uninvited.
“Brooding suits the moonlight,” came a familiar voice.
Alexander turned. Krystoff stepped into the torchlight, grey-streaked hair silvered by the flame. Darion followed a pace behind, arms folded.
“But if it weremywedding night,” Krystoff continued, a grin touching his lips, “I’d rather be gazing at my bride than pacing a courtyard full of old stones.”
Alexander huffed a breath that wasn’t quite a laugh. “Don’t pretend you didn’t see my face when I lifted that veil.”
“I saw surprise,” Krystoff said, his gaze steady. “That’s not a crime. But I’d hope surprise isn’t what rules a Wulfbane’s judgment now.”
Alexander looked away.Surprise. Was that all it was? The word felt too small for the thing that had crawled under his skin when her veil lifted.
“All I’ve ever wanted was to restore this House. To drag it from the pit my father left behind. When the king arranged this marriage, I thought it was a blessing. I thought—” He cut himself off, exhaling sharply through his nose. “I didn’t expect a lie.”
“Was it a lie?” Krystoff asked, his tone gentle.
His hand clenched into a fist at his side, his fingernails digging into his palms. She hadn’t begged. Hadn’t offered excuses. Was that guilt . . . or a dignity he’d been too blind to see?
“I don’t know,” he ground out.
“Beauty won’t last forever,” Krystoff reminded. “The beautiful face this morning is already one day older than last night, but a kind heart is evergreen. And your bride, I dare say, has an evergreen heart.”
Alexander couldn’t deny it. He thought of the way she had carried herself—not cowering, not shrinking, despite everything. There was something there. Something he hadn’t seen before. After the wedding feast, evenhemust admit she possessed more steel than he’d credited her with. For a moment, a reluctant respect surged.
