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Bryony’s fingers tightened around mine. “That answer is practical, so I’m not going to argue with it. I’m also not promising to leave you there if I can break the command without getting myself killed.”

“I wouldn’t believe the promise if you made it.”

We entered the lower hall together. The guard rooms stayed closed, and the silver raven set into the floor held a steady white light. Adrian’s false command had left dark marks along its wings, though the damage had stopped spreading.

The collar chain followed us out of Cecily’s room. Each link passed over the stone with a low scrape that I’d heard for a century. The sound had usually marked the edge of my prison. Now it followed me past doors I’d only seen from a distance.

Bryony watched my face instead of the iron. “Where first?”

“The royal suite. I need clean clothes.”

She looked at the torn shirt.

“It’s been an energetic evening.”

“Mine started with me leaving you.”

I stopped smiling and rubbed my thumb over her knuckles. “I know.”

Bryony left her hand in mine. “I meant what I said in the throne room. We’re continuing, and I’m judging what you do next. That doesn’t mean every quiet moment needs another discussion about whether I’ve forgiven you.”

“Thank fuck. I’ll answer every question, but we don’t have to keep reopening it whenever the room goes quiet.”

Her mouth curved. “You weren’t complaining when we stopped talking.”

“I had other things to concentrate on.” The reassurance was enough for now.

The bedroom opened when we reached the suite. A clean black shirt and trousers lay across the bed, along with boots that hadn’t existed in the wardrobe earlier.

Bryony stopped beside them. “Your house is alarmingly efficient when it wants you dressed.”

“It may have seen the trousers.”

I removed them while she was still looking at the stains.

Her gaze dropped and remained there long enough to make me smile.

“Privacy?”

She sat on the edge of the bed with the sword across her knees.

I left the bathroom door open.

I cleaned the dried blood from my skin, then returned to find her studying the scars along my hip. Most came from ordinary weapons before Edith chained me and had healed cleanly compared with the court’s iron.

She’d seen most of them already, although seeing me move freely held her attention. I could cross the bedroom without iron cutting into my waist, turn my back on the throne and reach the bed because I wanted to.

I pulled on the clean trousers. Bryony gave a disappointed sigh.

I fastened them under her attention.

That made me laugh.

I went to her, and Bryony tipped her face up when I stopped between her knees.

“I like you here.”

Her knees opened for me.