Song of Blood & Stone (Earthsinger Chronicles #1)(66)
The conversation continued for a few minutes but was impossible for him to follow. He regretted the words as soon as they’d left his mouth, but what was he to say? To mention that he was in a constant state of longing for her touch, that a day without seeing her was incomplete, that she was the most fearless and impressive woman he had ever encountered would have been more than these old hogs needed to know. Could it ever be enough that he knew? That he had these feelings very near to spilling over inside him with no outlet?
He was about to slip out to the terrace when an elderly woman dripping in diamonds, the wife of a former Council member, stopped him to complain about her neighbor's roof. Jack looked longingly at the doors to freedom before plastering on a smile.
She had only wanted to watch, perhaps from a balcony where she would not be spotted, but the ballroom had only one floor. The best place to observe without being seen was from the shadows of the terrace. The billowing folds of the curtains hid her body, clad in the ball gown Nadal had insisted she put on, just in case she changed her mind about attending. The dress was midnight blue and let her fade into the night. She was a ghost and felt as diaphanous as one, as though her existence was mere myth. Jack’s words to those men echoed in her head and seized her heart in an icy grip.
Last night had been the first night without him—the first of many she would surely experience. Soon she wouldn’t even be able to watch him in secret. He would be only a memory.
A voice from behind startled her. “Not going in?” Calladeen’s low timbre raised gooseflesh on her arms.
“No. A bit crowded for me,” Jasminda said, keeping her back to the man.
“I can imagine.”
She turned at his condescending tone. With a glare, she shouldered past him and dashed down the short staircase to the garden. A nearly full moon hung overhead, outshining the lanterns hung every metre along the gravel paths. Calladeen’s slow footsteps clicked behind her on the steps. At the bottom, she turned to face him.
“What do you want?” she bit out.
“A young woman should not be walking the exterior of the palace unescorted. Even here there are unsavory characters around.” He spread his arms to indicate the potential villains lurking about, but the only unsavory person here was him. “I’m sure our Prince Regent would never forgive me if harm were to befall you.”
A blade of fear jabbed her, but she straightened her shoulders and stood tall. She had only to scream and palace guards would come running. Not to mention the open doors of the ballroom just above them. Calladeen would not dare make good on his subtle threat, if indeed that’s what it was.
“I appreciate your concern for my welfare, but I am in no need of escort from you.”
He quirked an eyebrow. “You have had a stimulating few days here, I’m told.”
She remained silent. Surely he could not be so indelicate as to be discussing what she thought he was.
“The incident at the refugee camp? According to the paper, you were quite near the action.”
She gripped the fabric of her dress in tight fists to stop the shaking of her hands as the images flooded her. “If by stimulating, you mean horrifying, then you are correct. That soldier had no honor . . . shooting a child.”
He drew uncomfortably close to her, but Jasminda refused to step back. “And you feel the Prince Regent is acting honorably in subjecting the captain to a court martial that could result in his execution?”
“Of course. That man would have killed the boy for no reason if there had been no Earthsingers present. The prince is doing the right thing. He is honorable.”
“It is a shame that honor is not the most important quality in a leader.”
Jasminda blinked, choosing to take the bait. “What is a more important quality?”
“Decisiveness. The ability to do what needs to be done. Leadership is about making hard choices and not indulging one’s every whim.” He looked her up and down as she strained to remain poised under the inspection. “For example, bringing home a stray pet is not in line with effective leadership.”
Jasminda’s jaw tensed. “Say what you think you need to say to me.”
His slow smile froze the blood in her veins. “Very well. You may be unsuitable, but you are by no means unintelligent. Let me be clear: you make him weaker. He was not strong to begin with, and Elsira’s greatest tragedy was the loss of Alariq, a man truly fit to lead. However, given that we must make the best of what we have and there are no other princes coming out of the woodwork, Jaqros needs to be strong. He needs a princess the people can rally around, not some mongrel whore installed in the palace.”
The crack rang out before she even thought about it. Her hand stung, and she stared at it as if it belonged to someone else. She had never slapped someone so hard before. She had never slapped anyone ever.
Calladeen’s eyes narrowed. The fear snaking inside her enlarged as a cruel expression slid onto his face.
“Zavros.” Jack stepped into view from behind Calladeen, and Jasminda gasped, her moment of alarm fleeing with sudden relief. He was all warrior, his face cut from stone. He stepped toe to toe with Calladeen, speaking in a low and deadly voice, forcing the taller man backward a step. “If you ever so much as look in her direction again, I will personally ensure your eligibility for the Order of Eunuchs. If you have a problem with me, you bring it to me. You do not speak to her. You do not look at her. As far as you are concerned, she does not exist.”