Midnight Jewel (The Glittering Court #2)(91)

“But is it what you want?” I exclaimed. He seemed so indifferent to the world sometimes. This was almost beyond comprehension. “Do you really want to live with people who did that to you? Abandon Silas and Aiana? They’re more like family than any of your blood relations.”

“It’s not just about them. It’s the land, too. I thought you of all people would know what it’s like to have your homeland ripped away from you.”

“I rejected it. It didn’t reject me.”

“So you’re done with it? You’re done being Sirminican? You’ve settled too comfortably into Osfridian high society?”

The questions caught me off guard. “N-no. Of course not.”

“Do you want to see Sirminica again?” he pushed.

“Yes. It’s still a part of me. But it’s not possible to get back anytime soon.”

“Well, the Empire’s still a part of me too. I feel it inside.” He tapped his chest. “I need to see it again, and I can get back.”

“Yes, but you seem obsessed with doing it in a way that focuses on revenge. Outranking your uncle was the first thing you mentioned—not reuniting with your birthplace.”

“You’re in no position to lecture me, considering some of your current life choices,” he warned.

“And you’re in no position to lecture me for keeping secrets! When were you going to tell me this? I would’ve liked to have known before I got into your bed that you were going to head off across the continent afterward!”

“Would that have made a difference?” he asked. “You just said you hadn’t thought beyond this.”

“I guess I’m not the only one,” I snapped. “But why does it matter? You only like me a little, after all.” Even as I spoke, I knew I was a hypocrite. I’d made plans without him and then had the audacity to be outraged when he made his own. No one had been betrayed here. There were no promises between us. I knew all of that . . . but it didn’t change how hurt and angry I felt. How broken and dismissed.

Grant was clearly upset too, but he faltered for just a moment. He glanced across the room. “Maybe . . . maybe you’d like to see the lands up north.”

I pulled the blankets off me and scooted out of the bed to search for my clothes. “I’m not going to be your tagalong, any more than you’ll be my secret lover. I have too much self-respect.”

He stood up and began pulling on his own pants as I struggled to dress. “Does that involve using an old man for his money? Joining a group of pirates?” Grant gestured angrily around. “Even if you really are picking jobs that let you sleep at night, the rest of your friends aren’t so picky. And by supporting them with what you do choose, you’re unwittingly furthering them in what you don’t. I never thought you were that kind of person, Mirabel.”

“I’m not doing this for me!” I cried. “I have to do whatever I can to save Lonzo. And you don’t understand that this is the only way to do it!”

“And you don’t understand that this is the only way I can do what I need to!”

Silence. We stood there staring at each other, eyes locked, both of us raging. All I could think was Another day, another fight with Grant.

“I can’t keep doing this,” I said, my voice hoarse. I nodded toward the bed. “Thank you . . . for that. But I’m done. Done with everything. You should’ve listened to Silas about me. I’m cutting myself off from your case. I’m sure you’ll do just fine alone—you always have.”

He crossed his arms. “That’s probably for the best. Don’t worry—I’ll still make sure you get some of the reward. I know how much that means to you. I’ve got some gold here—”

“No.” I held up my palm. “Keep it. I don’t want it. I don’t want anything from you anymore.”

He scoffed. “Of course. Because I’m out of your system now?”

“Yes.” Even I was surprised at how cold the word sounded. “And because it’s obvious I was never in yours.” I readied myself for a biting retort, but it didn’t come.

“Mirabel . . .”

He reached out and touched my cheek. I jumped a little, and he quickly pulled his hand back, staring at his wet fingertip like he’d never seen anything like it before. I rubbed my face, embarrassed at those few traitorous tears. I didn’t even understand why they were there.

He didn’t say anything else and just held that hand up wonderingly. I couldn’t handle him seeing me like this anymore. Without another word either, I spun around and rushed out of the bedroom and out the front door. I was afraid he’d try to stop me. And also afraid that he wouldn’t.

But he let me go—like he always did—and as I slammed the door, the words of our earlier conversation hit me like a physical blow.

“I’ve never thrown you out. You stormed out.”

“I won’t this time.”

I ran down the steps. Drunken revelers still staggered down the streets, but I didn’t look at anything or anyone until I was outside the city and almost to the marsh path. I stopped to gather myself and was surprised to find myself shaking. There was a terrible ache in my chest, so painful that I didn’t know how I could take another step. I wasn’t angry anymore. Just sad. And drained. I blinked back more tears and then plunged into the brush.