Page 126 of The Cost of Blood and Bonds

She tilts her head, giving me more of her neck, a small surrender. “You’ll manage.”

“Mmm.” I kiss the spot below her ear. “Doubtful.”

Her breath catches, and her fingers trace featherlight circles over my knuckles.

“I’ll make it up to you.”

My blood heats, and I drag my mouth up her neck to the shell of her ear.

“Careful, little fox. I plan to collect. Slowly. Thoroughly. With you underneath me.”

A soft moan escapes her, barely there. And then, so quiet I almost miss it⁠—

“Promise?”

Something snaps in me. I groan, pulling her hard against me, letting her feel exactly what she does to me⁠—

She gasps and stiffens. The sound is wrong; it’s pain, not pleasure.

Her ribs. Stones, her ribs.

I loosen my grip immediately and force myself to breathe.

“I’m okay,” she whispers.

But I heard it, felt her flinch. She’s not healed, not ready yet. And fuck, I want her so badly I can’t see straight. But not like this. I won’t rush this; I won’t hurt her.

“Rye.”

Finn’s voice cuts through the moment. He’s slowed his horse, falling back to ride beside us.

“We’re getting close. We should switch.”

Right. The story.

I nod, pulling our horse to a stop. Grier and Rosie halt ahead, waiting.

If I rode in holding Gemma, my father would see it immediately. The prince, perfectly fine, cradling the injured swordmaster. He’d know she was the reason we stayed so long, and he’d make her pay for it. I can survive his suspicion, but she can’t.

So, we came up with a story. All five of us, over dinner two nights ago. The blast injured me, too…badly, a head wound that left me dazed for days. I was too hurt to travel, and Gemma and I were both recovering, which is why it took so long. It’s a good story. But the kind that only works if no one looks too closely.

Finn will ride in with Gemma. Grier will ride with me, holding me up like I’m still recovering. Rosie will ride ahead to alert the castle and give them time to prepare.

The gates loom larger with every step. My father will be watching. He always is. I need this lie to hold, because if it doesn’t, it’s not me he’ll come for.

Chapter 42

Ryewood

She’s letting me in. It’s the little things. The way her hand brushes mine when she corrects my grip. The way she lingers after training when everyone else has gone. The way she doesn’t pull away when I get too close.

Every day I worry more about what will happen when the truth she’s guarding with her life finally demands its due. And then there’s the name I can’t shake. It’s been over a month back at the castle, and I still can’t get it out of my head.

Ella.

It’s her real name. I know it in my bones. The name echoes through me at the strangest moments, when she smiles, when she’s soft, when she lets her guard down, and I catch a glimpse of who she really is.

I want to say it. I want to whisper it against her skin, but I don’t. Not until she gives it to me herself. Some things have to be earned. And whatever she’s holding back, she’s doing it to survive.