A Vow So Bold and Deadly (Cursebreakers, #3)(111)

“As will I.”

A bit farther down, he grabs my arm and tugs me into a tavern, and the scent of baked bread and roasted meat is strong. Tycho follows us in, but he clings to the shadows and stays near the door. The place is crowded with patrons, but we find a table in the corner.

“The boy would make a good guard,” I say to Grey.

“He’s still young.”

“So were you.”

I’ve never been in a place like this, where the ale is flowing freely and the table seems vaguely sticky and the people speak without a moment’s concern for who might overhear. At first, I’m tense, sure there could be a blade or an arrow anywhere, but as I look around, I realize there is nothing to fear.

And I no longer matter anyway.

The thought is jolting at first—but then I discover there’s a bit of freedom to it, just as there was a bit of freedom to following Grey’s order. In doing what I’m told instead of being the one in charge. I take a long breath, then exhale fully for what seems like the first time in months.

In years.

In … ever.

“You look better already,” says Grey.

I frown. “Perhaps.”

A maiden has been flitting from table to table, delivering platters of food and pitchers of ale, but when she stops by ours, she does a double take when she sees Grey.

“Hawk!” she cries with relief. “Oh, I can’t believe it! You’re—you’re—” She breaks off. Her face pales, and she bites her lip. A line forms between her brows. “I—you—Your—Your High—”

“Shh.” Grey puts a finger to his lips. “Hawk is fine.”

She moves closer. “Are you in hiding? Is there a coup? I have heard that horrid Prince Rhen was going to try to kill you—”

I cough. “A truly horrid man, for sure.”

“Not in hiding,” says Grey. “And my brother is not so horrid.”

Her wide eyes turn to me.

I shrug.

She draws herself up and takes a deep breath. “I’ll bring you some ale,” she says finally, decisively. Then, without warning, she gives Grey an impulsive hug, tugging his face into her impressive bosom. “I’m so glad you’re alive,” she says. “I was so worried.”

And then she’s gone.

“I’m going to tell Lia Mara,” I say.

“I will personally kill you.”

“Oh, Hawk,” I tease in a falsetto. “I was so worried.”

“You’re worse than Jake.”

I nod after the tavern girl. “What made you leave that one?” I smirk. “I’m surprised she’s not trailing a little magesmith herself.”

Grey smacks me on the top of the head, and I laugh.

“Jodi was a friend,” he says. “Nothing more.”

“Oh yes,” I intone. “That seems so very likely.”

“It is.” He gives me a level look across the table. “When I was in Rillisk, I was too afraid of the Royal Guard showing up to drag me back in chains.”

I meet his eyes. “Ah. I see.”

We say nothing.

I wonder if there will always be this hum of tension between us, if all the wrongs on both sides have brought us to a point where nothing will fully dull the edges.

But then I think of what Harper said, how she kept fighting to go home, and how that eventually didn’t work.

Is the tension all on my side? Is this my way of fighting to go home?

Do I simply need to … stop?

I look around the crowded tavern. Jodi reappears with two steins of ale. She winks at Grey and says, “Your brother looks so dangerous.” And then she bumps my shoulder with her hip.

I choke on my drink—but I put a coin on the table. Now she winks at me.

“I’m going to tell Harper,” says Grey.

I smile.

It feels good to smile.

I take a deep breath. “I’m glad you brought me here.”

“As am I.” He pauses. “I’m glad you stayed.”

I don’t tell him it was because he asked it of me. Maybe I needed him to.

“I was not raised to be a king,” he says quietly. “I …” His voice trails off, and he hesitates. “I thought of you often, when I was in Syhl Shallow.” His eyes glance away. “I longed for your counsel.” He pauses. “I know … I know this has not been easy for you. I know you were not made to yield.”

I shrug and take another sip of my drink.

“I long for your counsel now,” he says softly.

I look up.

“Syhl Shallow is plagued by factions that stand against magic. Her Royal Houses do not trust me. I do not have your skill with politics or court drama. I do not know your—my Grand Marshals. I do not know this army, these guards.” His eyes are dark, full of emotion in their depths. “I long for your counsel. If you would be willing to give it.”

I stare back at him. A new way to move forward.

I put out a hand. “For the good of …” I hesitate. It’s not just Emberfall any longer. “What, then?”

Grey clasps my hand, his grip tight. “You and me, Brother. For the good of all.”





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