A Vow So Bold and Deadly (Cursebreakers, #3)(87)

It’s probably the most reckless move in the world, because he has about four million weapons, and there are plenty of people in this castle who think it’d be easier if I were in a grave right now.

But Grey catches me, his strong hands gentle against my waist. He drops his head, and I feel more than hear his sigh. He doesn’t quite hold me, but he doesn’t shove me away.

“Please,” I say. “I don’t want to be your enemy.”

“Nor do I.” His voice is very low, very quiet. “I do not want to be Rhen’s either.”

I draw back a bit to look at him. “But … you won’t rescue him.”

“We have been preparing for war, Harper. I offered him trust. I offered him friendship. I offered him brotherhood. He rejected them all, and I have had to make peace with that. As it is, these soldiers hardly trust me. What you heard from Solt and Nolla Verin will not be the end of it. I cannot make this a mission to rescue him. They would refuse.”

“We could go alone! We could—”

“Alone? I have spent weeks at Lia Mara’s side, convincing this army I am allied with their queen. Convincing these soldiers that I stand with them. How could I disappear in the middle of the night with the Princess of Disi?”

This all feels so fruitless. “But—”

“No, Harper. I will not do that to them.” His eyes darken, his tone sharpening. “I certainly will not do it to her.”

I go still. There’s a protective note in his voice that I haven’t heard before. A look in his eyes. I have to draw back farther, shifting into the chair to study him. I was stuck on all the loyalty and strategic talk that reminds me so much of Rhen, but now I’m focused on the last part of that sentence, on the intensity in his gaze.

Oh. Oh.

He’s in love with her.

“I can take action to protect Syhl Shallow,” Grey continues. “And I will.” He pauses. “I cannot promise to protect Rhen,” he says. “But I can make a vow to destroy Lilith, if I am able.”

“And if Rhen survives, what then? What happens to this war?”

“You said he wanted peace, did you not?”

“He does,” I say. “He does. I swear it.”

“Good.” Grey pulls the boot off my foot, all business again. “If he survives, then he can prove it.”





CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

LIA MARA

The night sky is full of clouds again, snow flurries trickling down through the wind. I can barely see the soldiers leaving, which I suppose is the point. Iisak will follow in the skies. He’s already well overhead, nearly invisible in the twilit darkness.

Nolla Verin is waiting inside the palace with Clanna Sun, because we’re to discuss contingency plans, but I’m standing in the iced-over gardens, watching the small group of soldiers ride toward the city gates. We’ve spent weeks and weeks preparing for war, but I never once thought of how it would feel to stand like this, watching the barest glints of their weapons as they ride off the training fields. I never realized that it would feel like I’ve given away a part of myself, a part that Grey now carries with him.

He found me before they left, stealing a few minutes of privacy during which I should have been whispering warnings and promises and telling him all the ways my heart beats for him alone. Instead, his lips were on mine, and I inhaled his breath until I was dizzy with wanting and soldiers were shouting for him.

Grey kissed me one last time, then whispered against my lips. “I will come back to you.”

I hooked my fingers in his armor before he could pull away. “Your word?”

He smiled, took my hand, and kissed my fingertips. “My vow.”

Then he was gone, all softness erased from his face, any vulnerability gone from his frame.

But now I’m standing, staring, watching, waiting. There’s a part of me that doesn’t want to leave this garden until I see him return.

I heard what Harper said about this enchantress, the things she did to Rhen and his people. I’ve heard Grey’s stories of what she used to do.

He could die.

The thought flies into my head without warning, and once there, it takes root. I have to shake it loose.

I can’t.

I might never see him again.

The thought is dizzying. I have to put a hand against my belly.

And then I throw up my dinner right there in the garden.





CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

GREY

When I first journeyed to Syhl Shallow with Lia Mara, our traveling party was fractured in the beginning, with clear lines of division: me and Tycho, Jake and Noah, Lia Mara and Iisak. It made for tense conversation and uneasy nights, leaving everyone irritated and snappish.

This journey back into Emberfall is worse.

Captain Solt provided ten soldiers, as requested, and most of them are lethal and experienced, but to my surprise Solt included Tycho among them.

When I questioned him about it, he said, “The boy is from Emberfall. We may need a fluent scout.”

“Wise,” I said.

Solt grunted. “We’ll also need someone to dig a ditch for the latrine.”

To his credit, Tycho has done everything asked of him, rubbing down the horses, cleaning harness leather, fetching buckets of water—and digging ditches. He’s never shied away from hard work. It’s been three days, and we’ve only been riding at night, so I watch him pitch face-first onto his bedroll the very instant he’s relieved of duty.