A Vow So Bold and Deadly (Cursebreakers, #3)(14)

“Enough. Please.” A stupid tear slips down my cheek.

I don’t want Dustan to be right—but he is. Grey let me see glimpses of who he could be—gentle and kind—but there was a reason I called him Scary Grey. There was a reason I found him terrifying in the beginning.

And as much as I don’t want to admit it, there was a reason Rhen had to go as hard as he did to get an answer.

Grey would never have yielded. I begged him to tell Rhen what he knew. I begged him, and he refused. I don’t know if it’s pride or if it’s something that was drilled into him when he was in the Royal Guard, but Grey would never have given up that information.

Rhen couldn’t stop until he had it. Not with all of Emberfall at risk.

I take a long breath and blow it out. I finally turn and look at Dustan. He’s standing in the stall doorway, leaning against the frame.

“I still hate you,” I say.

“Yes, my lady.” His expression is inscrutable. I wonder if he hates me, too.

But some of the tension between us evaporates. Not all of it, not by a mile, but enough that I can feel it. No pretense, no hidden motives. We might not like each other right now, but we understand each other.

I wish it could be that easy with Rhen, but there’s too much between us. It’s one thing to understand why Dustan followed the order and why Rhen gave it. It’s entirely different to have seen the aftermath. To know it wasn’t done to some criminal plotting against the country, that it was done to Grey.

As if my tumultuous thoughts summoned him, the main stable doors are drawn open, and Rhen himself steps through. Dustan immediately snaps to attention.

I turn back to the horse. “Party over so soon?”

He says nothing for a moment, then, “Commander. Leave us.”

I hear Dustan’s quiet deferral, and then we’re alone. I smooth the brush along the horse’s coat, but Rhen must step up to the stall door, because Ironwill shifts his weight and turns, forcing me to step back. The buckskin pricks his ears and stretches out his neck to blow puffs of air at Rhen’s hands.

Traitor.

Rhen strokes a hand down the horse’s face. “I’m surprised I didn’t find you ten miles away.”

“You ordered Dustan to trap me here.”

“Half of Emberfall seems ready to take action against me. Syhl Shallow stands ready to attack.” He pauses, and his voice is low. “Surely you know I ordered him to keep you here for your safety, not as my prisoner.” Another pause. “Especially once you demonstrated to my Grand Marshals that we are not in accord.”

I say nothing. Every muscle in my body is tense, waiting for him to fully pick a fight, to finish what we started on the dance floor.

But … he doesn’t.

Rhen’s patience always takes me by surprise. He expects everything to be done on his command, but somehow it’s more powerful when he doesn’t command anything, and instead simply … waits. I resume my brushing, following each stroke with my palm, finding comfort in the warmth of the horse and the repetitive motion. Eventually, my shoulders loosen. My chest doesn’t feel like it’s going to cave in.

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly, and as I say the words, I discover I really mean them. “I shouldn’t have done that … there.”

“I do not deserve an apology,” he says, and his voice is equally quiet. “Indeed, I feel as though I owe you one.”

When I say nothing, he adds, “You are so angry with me.” He hesitates. “I believe there has been too much unsaid between us for too long.”

I peek over at him, but his eyes are on Ironwill, and the horse has pressed his head against Rhen’s chest. Rhen’s hand is against the animal’s cheek, his long fingers stroking the sleek fur in the hollow of his jaw.

It reminds me of the day Rhen was a monster, a creature summoned by Lilith’s magic, bent on destroying everything in his path. He’d never been docile for anyone in his monster form, he’d never even known anyone—not even Grey. But he quieted for me. He was massive, at least ten feet tall, part dragon and part horse, with fangs and talons, his scales and feathers glittering in luminescent colors. I thought he was going to kill us all, but he’d put his head against my chest and blown warmth against my knees.

The memory is so powerful that my breath catches. I look back at Ironwill.

“My lady?” says Rhen.

I shake my head slightly. “What’s …” I have to clear my throat. “What’s unsaid on your side?”

“I should have spoken to you about Grey before I made a choice of what to do.”

I hold my breath.

“I thought …,” he begins, then hesitates. “I thought you understood my reasons, but perhaps—”

“I do.” I peek over at him again. My voice is rough. “I do understand your reasons.” I have to look back at the horse. “When you did that,” I whisper, “you were so much more frightening than you ever were as a monster.”

He inhales sharply, but I don’t look at him. I can’t look at him.

“Because you made a choice,” I say, and my voice breaks. “Because it was you. Because it was someone I cared about. Because it was horrible.”

Tears fall, and I press my forehead into the horse’s neck. My fingers tangle in Ironwill’s mane. “Because you needed to do it. Because I didn’t want to know you could have done it.”