Page 70 of Ashborne Forged

“This isn’t over.”

“Can I ask what—”

“We’ll have a tribunal, and you’ll be assessed by your superiors. I don’t trust myself not to castrate you if this is solely left up to me. Holy shit, Voski!”

“I know, sir. I’m sorry. I mean that.”

His jaw went tight. “Was it worth it? Just to avoid a little discomfort?”

It was far more than that, but he didn’t know. And in the end, he was still right. “She’s worth it,” I said carefully.

“Will you keep lying about her?”

“No.”

He pursed his lips and looked away again, muttering under his breath and shaking his head. “You need to get your head on fucking straight. Today.”

“Yes, sir.”

He sighed. “You go find the girls, and your squad. You have an easier truth to tell first. I’m going to take some advice of my own. Fuck, Voski. We were about to promote you!”

I slumped, but didn’t break attention. “Thank you, sir,” I said, and I meant it. “And thank you for seeing what I needed. This is why I chose to follow you.”

Donavyn took a deep breath, his lips pressed thin. “If you step out of your fear and be this man all the time, those men will follow you one day.”

To my surprise, he offered his arm to clasp. I took it, gratefully, then followed him out of the stable, though he was still muttering curses after he slid the big door open and stepped into the aisle.

I followed him to the intersection of aisles where we parted ways. I was humbled, and nervous as he strode off toward the Officer’s building, because I knew the fallout from this wasn’t over. But as I turned and jogged out of the main stable door, on the path to the main buildings, I discovered I was oddly eager to find Grace and tell her. To claim her. She’d be thrilled. And even though my stomach was a pit of dread at telling Ronen, and then the others, it would also be a relief—to stop constantly lying, if nothing else.

But what if I killed one of them because—

A shriek of pain and fear zinged through my chest with such potency, I lost my breath.

I froze for half a breath, instinctively reaching for Grace in the bond.

‘What is it? What’s happened?’ But either she couldn’t hear me, or she was too far away to reply, because there was nothing but that jangling fear. I took off down the path, boots pounding on the cobblestones, sprinting until I rounded the wall and the courtyard outside the dining hall opened before me, full of a cluster of men, with more pouring out of the building.

Confused, I hurried forward, scanning them all, trying to take everything in at once.

That crowd at the center of the courtyard bubbled with heated voices—some of whom were my squad brothers, clustered together looking angry and worried.

“Gil, what’s going on? Where’s Grace? Have you seen her?” I called when I caught sight of them, but they were all distracted, crowding around something I couldn’t see. I tried desperately to reach Grace through the link, but was never sure if she heard me. ‘Where are you? Are you hurt? Talk to me!’

The clang of her fear and agitation shot through the bond, but no words. Had she been hurt?

I pushed into the crowd of men between my squad brothers Harle and Einar.

“What’s happened? Where’s—?”

There was a glimpse of Grace’s golden hair ahead, between the shoulders of Ronen and Bren. I shoved my way through the crowd to them in time to see Grace’s head snap around and her eyes widen when she saw me.

“Voski!” she choked. My brothers and sister turned to protest my force, but as I slid to a halt, that awful shriek rang in my head again.

Grace was at the center of the crowd, shoulders hunched as if she were in pain, her eyes wide and shining with unshed tears. And her upper arm in the fierce grip of a tall man, in fine clothes, and gray winging his temples.

A nobleman. Proud. Scornful. Sneering.

I zeroed in on the place he had clamped a hand around her arm possessively.