Page 35 of House of the Iron Reaper

“You House starves,” I say, a sharp edge to my voice I cannot sand down. “You said titles and prestige are meaningless in the face of starvation. Is pride not much the same? Worthless-”

“Pride is never worthless, child.”

Lysandra’s tone is warning enough, but her coal black eyes smoulder dangerously. When she breathes, smoke seeps from between her lips.

“You know nothing of what you speak,” she says, voice quiet but clear.

I open my mouth, but when I search for a retort, I can find none. After a beat, I close it again and bow my head.

“You are right—I know nothing of what your Houses face. I have never known a paucity of anything, nor the kind of desperation born of survival,” I say.

Lysandra remains still as marble but when she regards me, her eyes cool somewhat.

“But,” I continue, as gently as I can muster. “It is not about me or what I know. It is about the good of Iron and Coal.” I draw in a breath, holding her gaze. “You cannot eat pride.”

For a moment, Lysandra does nothing but loom over me, unblinking. I remain solid, unmoving, unyielding. The Houses need this food. Deyanara needs this food.

The stalemate breaks when Lysandra beckons someone over.

“Take these meals to the stores,” she commands before pointing to two others. “You, also.”

I release a breath.

“Thank you, Shu Lysandra. Deimos will arrive with a second delivery later this eve,” I tell her.

“Mm. Very well.” She pauses. “I will ensure I am present, to thank him in person.”

Something tight loosens in my chest. I smile at the dragons as they excitedly haul away the food, and wonder if their faces will light up the way Deyanara’s did. I have found myself smiling a lot more, recently. My damn cheeks hurt.

Lysandra turns with a sweep of her cloak and a tap to her forehead.

“Wait!” I call out before I can stop myself.

Lysandra half-turns, and even her profile is intimidating.

“The… the noble.” My tongue is suddenly twice as heavy. “You mentioned a noble last time we spoke.”

A narrowed eye regards me.

“What of her?”

“Is…” I briefly contemplate retreating but something irrational propels me forward. I hope her goodwill does not dry out. “Is she here?”

Lysandra is on me before I realise it. She is faster than she looks, closing the gap between us quicker than I can blink. It is only instinct and my own quickness that forces me to step back, just in time to put an inch of space between her face and mine.

“What exactly is your interest in Deyanara?” Lysandra hisses.

I try to take another step back but her hand whips out to grip my shoulder, pulling me in.

“How do you know her?” Lysandra fires before I can respond to her first question. “Do not treat me like a fool, child.”

“I am not-”

“You were sniffing around at your mother’s ball and now, again, you ask after her.”

“I just-”

“A mere coincidence you came here yourself to deliver food from Copper? Tell me now.”