Page 137 of The Cost of Blood and Bonds

“Don’t,” I mutter around the pastry.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“They’re good,” I say defensively, taking another bite.

“I’m not judging,” he says, biting the inside of his cheek, losing the battle to hide his amusement.

“Your face is judging.” I gesture at him with my pastry, getting crumbs all over the place.

Hayes brushes at the crumbs with his lips twitching into a bigger smile. “You just make that same noise every night.”

I should be embarrassed, but I’m not. There’s something about Hayes that makes me want to stay, and the usual itch to disappear isn’t there.

We keep walking.

“So,” I say, licking pastry flakes from my thumb. “How’s your future tethered?”

He snorts. “Don’t.”

“What?” I press a hand to my chest in mock earnest. “Lady Belinda seems delightful.”

“I will push you into this pond,” he says, gesturing like he’s actually going to do it.

“Touchy.” I giggle. “I take it the King’s still pushing?”

“Pushing is generous,” he says as the humor drains out. “He’s practically drafting the vows.”

“Maybe we’ll get lucky, and she’ll die in the trials.”

The laugh bursts out of him, loud and uncontrolled, before he can stop it, and his hand flies over his mouth.

“Gem!” He’s half-choking. “That’s awful.”

“Is it?” I tilt my head. “Is it really?”

He tries to scold me but fails immediately and laughs harder.

“You can’t say things like that.”

“I just did.”

“Gem—she’s a person.”

“Barely,” I retort.

He stares at me like I’ve committed a crime. Then we both crack up.

“You’re horrible,” he says, wiping at his eyes. “Truly, genuinely horrible.”

“And yet”—I spread my arms out wide, smugly—“you keep walking with me. Feeding me apple turnovers, night after night.”

“I’m reconsidering.”

“No, you’re not,” I say.

He gently bumps my shoulder. “No. I’m not.”

The laughter fades, and we let the quiet slip back in. I feel him pulling inward, like a bird settling its wings.