Page 54 of The Cost of Blood and Bonds

Grier doesn’t answer; he just takes a single step forward. That’s enough. They’re squared off now, two men with years of loyalty pulled tight to the breaking point. Because of me, because I couldn’t stop myself.

I can’t be here for this. I can’t watch this.

I slip quietly through the curtain of branches while their focus is locked on each other. The night air hits my flushed skin, and I don’t look back.

I don’t stop running until I’m in my room with the door closed behind me. I slide down against it, pressing my forehead to my knees, and try to breathe. But my heart won’t slow down. I touch my fingers to my lips. I can still feel him there, the softness of his kiss. I can still feel the way his hands pulled me closer like letting go wasn’t an option, like I was his. I can’t unfeel this, and I don’t want to, that’s what scares me the most.

Somewhere along the way, he stopped being harmless, stopped being something I could weather without breaking, and I didn’t just let him in, I pulled him closer.

The worst part isn’t that I kissed him. It’s that I would do it again. Right now, without hesitation, I would walk back out there and find him and ruin everything. That’s who I’ve become. Someone willing to burn it all down for the way he says my name.

The realization settles into my chest like a stone, heavy and permanent.

The King’s look comes back to me, like he’d already decided my fate. I’ve let Ryewood in, and now I have to tear him out, because it’s too dangerous.

No more being alone with him. No more letting myself forget what he is and what I am…if it’s not already too late.

If I see him again, it will be at a distance, in daylight.

I know that having him puts everyone I love at risk. I have to walk away, even though it costs me him.

The tears come before I can stop them. For Mom, for the months of searching and coming up empty, for every dead end and locked door. Her warmth settles around me, and I stop trying to hold myself together.

My tears fall harder, for him, for wanting something I can’t allow.

I don’t hear him approach—only the careful quiet knock, like he already knows what he’s walking into.

“It’s me,” Grier says. “Let me in.”

I get to my feet, waiting until the room is settled and there’s nothing left to hide before I open the door.

He takes me in and doesn’t ask questions. He just pulls me into his arms and holds me together. My weight settles against him, sinking into the familiar steadiness of his chest.

“You need to get out of the castle,” he says finally. “Just for a night.”

Chapter 18

Grier

Ikeep us to the servants’ corridors and out of sight. The castle is quiet at this hour, with most of the staff already asleep, but I don’t trust the quiet. Quiet is where questions start, and I can’t afford questions tonight.

Ryewood had barely disappeared down the garden steps when the King pulled me aside.

“Your discretion has been sufficient until now. But you’ve allowed this situation to become visible,” the King had said. His hand rested on the stone railing as he spoke, fingers relaxed and unmoved. “The arrangement now requires revision.”

Arrangement, as if Gemma were a piece placed incorrectly.

“You will be present for all training sessions,” he continued. “No exceptions. You will submit daily reports on Ryewood’s training to Voss. Oversight will be transferred if required.” His head tilted toward the gardens. “Now go fix this.”

After the gardens, I’d gone to find her so she wouldn’t have to face the fallout alone.

She opened the door, and the look on her face stopped me cold. It was a quiet devastation, like something had broken past the point of pain.

She walks in silence now. That’s what worries me most. Gemma is never silent; she’s fire and sharp edges, but right now she’s a shell.

I know how this happened. I saw it. Under the willow tree, his hands buried in her hair, her whole body melting into him without the guard she keeps with me, like she forgot why she put distance between them in the first place. I don’t think I’ll ever unsee it. It sits in my chest like a blade I can’t pull out.

The night air is sharp and cold. I glance at her again. Those beautiful eyes are fixed ahead, seeing nothing, or maybe seeing everything, replaying it the way I am.