22“What did he mean by that?”
Lena was perched on her bed, knees tucked against her chest, violet eyes pinned to Jace where he stood beside her hearth with a bundle of kindling.
“Being a curse?” Jace shrugged, and dropped a thin log onto the glowing embers. He peered at Lena over his shoulder. “The gods only know.” He crouched and shoved in the rest of the kindling, then stirred up the flames with a sharp, iron poker.
“He hates Lord Jarl. Most people do.”
“Don’t you?”
He heaved a long exhale. “How can I turn him down, Lena? He’s giving me a chance at a different sort of life. A better life.”
Lena bit her bottom lip and shifted her gaze to the glaring fireplace.
“There,” Jace muttered. “A cold snap’s coming through, but this ought to keep you warm.”
“Thank you.” She curled her finge
