A Vow So Bold and Deadly (Cursebreakers, #3)(13)

I glare at Dustan. I’ve been ignoring him for months, since he was a part of what Rhen did to Grey. Since he was the one to tell Zo she was relieved of her duties. Since he turned from someone I thought might be a friend—into someone I’ve grown to resent.

My heart is still in my throat. “What is wrong with you?”

He doesn’t look any happier to be here than I am. “His Highness ordered me to keep you on the castle grounds.”

OH, DID HE.

I’m breathing hard, my thoughts full of venom. He’s blocking my path now, standing like he’s ready for me to take a swing at him—or bolt.

Both sound like a good idea. “Give me back my horse,” I bite out.

He looks aggrieved. “My orders were to keep you on the grounds and keep you safe.”

“I’m right here. I’m fine.” I take a step forward and reach for the reins, but Dustan steps in front of me.

“If you force my hand, I will accomplish that by locking you in your quarters.”

I feign a gasp. “You will? Such chivalry.”

He ignores my tone. “Would Grey not have done the same?”

I freeze. I remember a time when Rhen and I were arguing, and I pulled a dagger. Grey pulled a blade to stop me, and Rhen said, “He’ll take your arm off if I order it.”

I asked Grey about it later. I follow orders, my lady. I bear you no ill will.

He definitely would have done the same.

It takes some of the wind out of my sails.

I frown and start forward. Dustan steps to block me.

I grit my teeth. “I’m going to take the saddle off,” I say darkly. “If that’s all right with you.”

He studies me for the longest moment, then steps back. I jerk the reins out of the other guard’s hands, then stroke a hand down Ironwill’s cheek. He chews at the bit and swishes his tail, looking aggrieved himself.

I wish I were nimble and limber, that I had the kind of skills that would let me leap onto Ironwill’s back and gallop out of here, trampling Dustan in the process. But I’m not and I can’t, and if I tried, Dustan probably would drag me back to my room to lock me there.

Back in the stall, I loosen the girth, then slip the saddle off the buckskin’s back. I’m not trapped, but I feel like a prisoner anyway. I trade the saddle for a brush and ease the soft bristles against Will’s coat. At some point, Dustan gives the other guards an order to stand outside the stables, but he stations himself across the aisle to stand against the opposite wall.

I ignore him, leaning into the brush, and the silence settles in around us. My anger is flailing, wanting a target, leaving me tense and fidgety. A chill has crept into the stall, and I bite back a shiver, pressing closer to the horse. It doesn’t help, and I shiver harder, sucking a shuddering breath through my teeth.

“My lady.” Dustan speaks from behind me, but I don’t turn.

“Go away.”

“You should return to the castle if you are cold.”

“No.”

He says nothing, and I wonder if he’s still standing there or if he’s returned to his spot across the aisle.

I can’t decide if I’m being rude or if he’s being a jerk, and honestly, I don’t care. I stop brushing and press my forehead into Ironwill’s neck, breathing in the scent of hay and horseflesh. He’s warm and familiar and was a constant source of solace for me in the beginning.

I have learned that when you go missing, I should check the stables first.

Grey said that to me, on my second day in Emberfall.

Against my will, my eyes fill, and my throat tightens. I lost my mother to cancer, and then I lost my friend when Grey fled, and then I lost my brother when he went to help.

And I’m the idiot who stayed here. Because I believed in Rhen. Because I believed in Emberfall.

I sniff the tears back, but I do it quietly, because I don’t want Dustan to know. I shiver again, clutching my forearms to my abdomen.

Dustan sighs. A moment later, a cloak drops over my shoulders.

I turn, and I’m sure there’s fire in my eyes, because Dustan holds his hands up. “You don’t need to be cold to spite me.”

The cloak is warm from his body, and I want to throw it back at him, but that feels petty—and I really am cold. I swallow the tears that sat ready, then put the brush against the buckskin’s coat again, using a little more force than necessary. “You don’t need to pretend to be kind.”

Dustan is quiet for a moment. “I heard what you said to His Highness. In the Great Hall.”

“Good for you.” I’m sure everyone heard it.

“Do you truly believe that is why he gave the order for what he did to Grey and Tycho? As some sort of … retaliation?”

“I don’t want to talk to you, Dustan.”

“And do you believe that if I’d refused to obey, that the prince would have simply chosen another path?” He pauses. “Or do you think he would have relieved me of my duties, then given the order to another?”

The brush goes still along Ironwill’s shoulder.

“Do you think,” Dustan continues, “that Grey would have refused such an order, if given?”

No. He wouldn’t. I have to swallow hard.

“Grey’s final words,” Dustan says to my back, “were swearing an oath to an enchantress who nearly destroyed Emberfall. You can fault His Highness for the choice he made, and you can blame me for following the order he gave, but Grey could have simply admitted the truth—”