Page 29 of The Cost of Blood and Bonds

Tommin brushes past, close enough that his voice stays low.

His eyes don’t meet mine as he murmurs. “The first-floor servant access on the western corridor is still locked down.” He shifts his weight. “And they doubled the patrol after dusk near the King’s suites.”

That’s the last clean option we had without being seen.

Grier’s hand lands on my shoulder, subtle and steady. He doesn’t say anything; he doesn’t have to, because we both know there’s nowhere left to look.

“The swordmaster is useless,” Rye says.

I look up. Rye’s scowling, and Hayes is beside him, clearly entertained.

“He runs the same drills, the same angles, over and over. There’s no adaptation,” Rye continues. “I need someone who can actually fight.”

The words cut through the fog and hit something solid.

“Where does the swordmaster stay?” I ask.

All three of them look at me.

“In the castle,” Hayes says slowly. “Near the servants’ wing in the western corridor. Why?”

My pulse spikes.

Grier doesn’t miss a beat. “Finn mentioned knowing someone,” he says easily. “A better option.”

Rye’s grin is instant. “Perfect, bring them in.”

The next hour bleeds together. When the yard finally clears out, Grier turns to me fully.

“That gives us access to the servants’ quarters, storage corridors, to the places we can’t justify being otherwise.”

I nod. My throat’s too tight to speak. This would bring our risk inside the King’s walls and put eyes where we can’t afford them.

“Who?” he asks.

“Gemma.”

The name lands between us.

Grier doesn’t answer right away. His jaw goes rigid, gaze shifting toward the castle, toward everything this would put at risk.

“She’s not going to stop,” I say. “At least this way, we know where she is.”

The words sit ugly in my mouth. I know this will shorten the distance danger has to travel, and it will put all of us inside these walls.

“I know.” His hand tightens on my shoulder. It doesn’t feel like reassurance. It feels like weight.

I know this isn’t a good option. But careful ran out a month ago, and it’s the only move left.

Chapter 9

Gemira

The training leathers feel strange against my skin. Not uncomfortable, just heavier and more restrictive than I’m used to. Finn got them for me. A swordmaster wouldn’t show up in street clothes, after all.

“You sure about this?” Finn asks quietly, slowing as the yards come into view.

He’s been asking that for days, at every planning meeting and every time we rehearse our story.