The Jack of Hearts (House of Cards Book 1)

Chapter 14 | Jacks Around

The gladed garden grew cool and damp with dusk. The grass beneath Rosalyne cushioned her head as she stared up at the rising moon.

Dys had been correct — Rosalyne had taken on too much with Imani and Imamu. The influx of grief brought her to her knees, and Dys had taken her arm to return to their seats.

But she'd felt something shift within the gathered Ibhere — not all but some. It had rubbed raw against her mind but she'd gritted her teeth, letting wonder assuage some of their suspicion. While they had watched her approach the front with a curdled resentment, it had all but disappeared as she sat once more. 

When Mal had tried to crawl back into her lap, Rosalyne shook her head and backed away. She slipped away from the courtyard, further into the gardens until she could breathe once again.

But even after her chest loosened and the rioting waves calmed, she couldn't make herself move from this spot, peeking at the sky through the branches and clouds and listening to the birds flickering among the trees.

She felt Clovis and Lucas come to attention as someone approached her cloister. Jhak O'rian's even confidence cut through her peace and Rosalyne shut her eyes with a sigh.

Sitting up, she felt her hair uncoil down her back, escaping from the confines of her cap. She hissed lowly at the disarray, but dismissed the instinct to duck away from the jhak's gaze — it wasn't as though she hadn't been in worse the last several weeks.

She curled her legs around and Dys carefully helped her to her feet, brushing grass and dirt from her white skirts.

"Why does his royal highness linger in the trees?" The jaquelle turned and smirked in his direction. She could almost make out his shape in the shadow. "Is he pouting?"

The silhouette moved into the light, splitting into two.

The smile dropped from her face, eyes fixed on Jhak O'rian's companion.

It was Jhak Oxland. It was obviously Jhak Oxland. The brothers stood within a hand's breadth of height, wearing matching violet .

Dys gasped and slipped back behind her mistress, eyes fixed to the floor, endeavoring to be invisible.

Jhak Oxland's face was younger — younger than Rosalyne had thought, seeing him next to the king. His face was Jhak O'rian's but for youthful roundness. It made him beautiful, less intense than his brother — sweeter, scared.

The differences grew as she stared: her betrothed's eyes were larger, more expressive, curtained now with nerves; his locs were shorter, styled thinner and worn loosely about his shoulders; and his chin held his uman's grace rather than his abba's severity.

Rosalyne curtsied to him and buried her hiccough of embarrassment; smothered the disappointment that her husband was a very handsome man. The feeling was matched in Dys as she came to the same conclusion. If beauty's truth was universal, the jhak would not have to wander to stray.

"Jhak Rosalyne, it is my pleasure to make your acquaintance," he said with a practiced stiffness. "I hope you will excuse me for failing to meet you upon your arrival."

Rosalyne folded her stained fingers and titled her head to the side. Birds twittered in the stretching silence.

The jhak glanced at his brother. "I thought she understood Cluvani?"

Jhak O'rain nudged his brother. "Perhaps she waiting for you to say something worth responding too."

Rosalyne brushed loose tendrils of hair over her shoulder. "I'm afraid, my lord, I was only anticipating his excuse. It must have been serious to indispose him for so long. He has my condolences for whatever it was."