Page 122 of The Cost of Blood and Bonds

“Mara.” Her voice is thick with emotion. “Oli.”

The nicknames land more familiar and easier than I expect, like she’s said them a thousand times before.

Marel turns, and her face crumples the moment she sees Gemma.

“Oh, honey.” She crosses to her, pulling her into a gentle but real embrace. “You take care of yourself. You hear me?”

“I will.” Gemma’s voice is muffled against Marel’s shoulder. “Thank you. For everything.”

Olin joins them, wrapping his arms around them both. This weathered old man, who barely speaks, is holding Gemma like she’s his own. I watch the way Gemma melts into their embrace, the way her eyes squeeze shut, the way she’s fighting not to cry.

I feel the familiar tug. I want to know who they are to her. I want to know who she was before me. But I let the thoughts pass. I’m learning that loving Gemma means waiting and trusting that one day she’ll let me in.

Grier moves past us to say his goodbyes. I hear Marel’s soft murmurs and Olin’s low voice, but I’m focused on Gemma. She’s leaning on me more than she wants to admit. She’s not ready for this.

Days on horseback, even at a walk, even with every precaution…it’s too soon. I told her that, Marel told her that, even Grier tried.

But she said the same thing every time, that she needed to see Finn, needed to know he was safe. And what could I say to that? How could I argue with a need that runs that deep? So here we are. Walking toward the horses. Pretending this isn’t going to hurt her.

“You can still change your mind,” I say quietly. “Another few days⁠—”

“Rye.” She looks up at me, exhausted but certain. A hint of her old spark breaking through. “You worry too much.”

“Funny. I feel like I don’t worry enough.”

She smiles.

I mount first, settle into the saddle, and hold my hand out for her⁠—

But Grier is already there, moving to Gemma’s side without a word, sliding one arm beneath her knees, the other around her back.

“Ready?” he asks softly.

She nods, and he carefully lifts her up to me. My hands find her waist, and I ease her into the saddle against my chest. She makes a sound she doesn’t want me to hear, but her body tenses in a way that gives her away.

“I’ve got you,” I murmur against her hair. “Lean back.”

She does, and her hand finds my arm where it wraps around her waist, fingers curling over mine.

Grier adjusts the blanket around her legs and tucks it carefully.

Grier’s eyes meet mine over her head, and the silence between us is heavier than anything we’ve ever spoken aloud. He’s not just handing her up to me. He’s giving her to me, and we both know it, and the cost of it is written in every line of his face. I hold his gaze and let him see every promise I can’t put into words. He nods, slow and certain, then steps back and mounts his own horse.

I look back at the cabin one last time. Marel and Olin stand in the doorway, arms around each other, watching us go.

Gemma lifts her hand and gives them a small wave.

Marel presses her hand to her heart.

Then we turn south, toward Finn, the castle, and whatever comes next.

We’re about to turn right onto the main road when Gemma shifts against me.

“Can we go left first?” she asks.

I glance at Grier. The same confusion I’m feeling is written on his face, but he steers his horse left without a word.

The path winds through snow-muffled trees until the forest opens. A cabin sits in the clearing, weathered and abandoned, with snow drifts against the door and frost crawling up the windows. Gemma’s breath catches, and her whole body goes still against my chest. Her eyes trace the roofline, the chimney, the path half-buried beneath snow.