A Vow So Bold and Deadly (Cursebreakers, #3)(108)

Grey sets a card on the pile. “And the Grand Marshal of Kennetty?”

“Violet Blackcomb. She’s soft-spoken. Never too opinionated. But she’s honest and believes in doing right by her people. She’s a good ally. Her Seneschal, Andrew Lacky, is the one you need to watch out for.” I adjust my cards in my hand and lay one on the pile.

I expect him to grill me on the others, but he doesn’t. He falls silent again.

“If you leave,” he says carefully. “Where will you go?”

“Ah … I’ve heard there is need for a stable hand at some tourney in Rillisk.”

That startles a laugh out of him, which makes me smile, chagrined.

“ ‘You’re a talented swordsman,’ ” he says, his tone low as he quotes what I said to him when we were trapped by the curse. “ ‘Shall I write you a letter of recommendation.’ ”

He’s teasing, and I should smile back, but instead, I go still. I’m missing an eye. I doubt I’ll have much talent as a swordsman anymore. I can already tell.

My hands are shaking. I set down my cards. Flex my fingers.

Grey sets down his own. He leans in against the table, and his voice is very low. “Rhen,” he says. “What do you want?”

I want …

I look up at him. “I don’t know.”

“Truly?”

I shrug a little. “I was raised to be king, Grey. I don’t know how to be anything else.” I gesture at my face. “No one will want to look at me. Did they display passing oddities in this tourney of yours? Perhaps I could earn a few coins.”

Grey blows out a breath between his teeth and runs a hand across the back of his neck. “Silver hell, Rhen. Were you quite this bleak when we were trapped together, or have I forgotten?”

I jerk back, and I’m so startled that I can’t decide if I’m angry or amused.

But Grey hasn’t looked away, and there’s no malice in his expression. I stand and move to my side table. “I was likely always this bleak. Do you care for some sugared spirits?”

“I still have no head for liquor. I’ll be on the floor.”

I pour two glasses. “Good. I’ll join you.”

We drink. I pour two more and take up my cards. “Why did you really come here?”

He tips back this glass as quickly as the first and winces, then coughs. “I would have told you the truth without the spirits.”

“I know. But it’s more amusing this way.” I pause. “Tell me, while you can do it without slurring.”

“Harper sought me out. She is worried for you.” His voice drops. “In truth, I worry for you.”

Ah, Harper. I shrug and pour a third glass.

“Lia Mara had a thought,” says Grey.

“Indeed?”

“She suggested that since we cannot travel north, that instead we visit your southern cities, not as allies, but—”

“Yours, Grey.” I drain the glass. “They are your southern cities.”

“—as brothers,” he finishes.

I go still for a long moment, then set the glass on the table. So many emotions fill my chest that I can’t make sense of them. “So a parade of their failed prince? Would you like to put me in a cage?”

A dark look flickers in his expression, and I can tell I’m trying his patience. He keeps his voice even, though. “No, I would like for you to ride at my side.”

“To show me all I have lost?”

“Only half. Then you’d have to turn your head, I imagine—”

I take a swing at him, but the liquor has already hit me, and Grey dodges. I’m off balance, and I try to regroup to hit him again. Unfortunately, the liquor has hit him twice as hard, and when he tries to fend me off, we end up falling to the ground—and we take the table down with us, the wood splintering as a leg gives way under our weight. The bottle shatters on the marble floor, followed immediately by the glasses.

A guard swings open the door. “My lord! Are you—” He stops short. “My … lords?”

“A misunderstanding,” I say. I wince and touch a hand to my head. “About which way was up.”

Grey is sprawled on the marble next to me, and he looks over. He points at the ceiling. “I told you it was that way.”

I knew it. He’s slurring already. I look at the door. “We’re fine. Get out.”

The door eases closed.

Grey looks over at me. “I did not mean to offend you.”

“I know.” I look at the ceiling. “I think …” My thoughts are loosening. Drifting. “I think I sought to offend myself. You took nothing from me. I yielded.”

He says nothing to that, and we lie among the broken glass and wood for the longest time.

“I would ask you to stay,” he says quietly. “To join me, Rhen.”

I’m not sure what to say. I don’t know what I want. I don’t know where to go. I don’t even know if I want to go.

But I look over into Grey’s dark eyes. “Yes, my lord. As my king commands.”





CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

LIA MARA

I’m drafting a letter to my sister, my quill scratching rapidly against the parchment. For some reason, I’m exhausted all day, but by the time darkness falls, I feel as though I could lead an army. Harper’s lady-in-waiting, Freya, has been a source of information for all things motherhood, and thanks to the ginger tea she brings me every morning, I’ve stopped emptying the contents of my stomach onto the boots of anyone who has the misfortune to speak to me at the wrong time.