He looks down at my hand against his shoulder, and for an eternal moment, I feel like he might crumple—and I’ll catch him. But then he takes a breath, and the emotion is gone.
“I am not announcing my departure,” he says evenly. “From a political standpoint, the queen will state that I am returning to Emberfall for the time being. Jake will remain to facilitate the departure of any remaining Emberish forces over the next few days, and he and Noah will return with them.”
I stare at him. He’s not just leaving, he’sleaving. We all are.
This is possibly more shocking than the attack this afternoon.
I let my hand drop from his shoulder. “What about Sinna?”
The words are spoken softly, gently, but Grey jerks like he’s taken a blow anyway.
“I told her that I am needed in Emberfall, and I will see her as soon as I can.”
“And the—”
“Tycho.Stop.” He cuts me off, putting a hand onmyshoulder. “Please.I need—”
His voice breaks off. I hold my breath, waiting. We’re standing so close, and the weight in his hand is potent. There’s so much emotion in the air, so much urgency in his eyes. It’s not quite desperation. It’s something darker, more needy. It reminds me of the very first time he offered me his trust, the night I discovered he was the heir to the throne. In this moment, we’re not a king and his servant, we’re not a soldier and his commander. He’s just Grey, and I’m just Tycho.
Only I’m not fifteen anymore. I don’t need him to protect me anymore. I don’t need to hide.
Maybe what he needs is someone to protecthim.
I look right back at his dark eyes. “Tell me what you need,” I say quietly. “I’ll do it.”
“Fetch your things. Tell no one.” A pause, and his rough voice almost breaks again. “No guards, no soldiers. I don’t trust anyone here. I’m a target, and I need to be gone.”
I give him a sharp nod. “As you say. Saddle Mercy for me. I’ll be back in half an hour.”
He nods in return and lets me go.
But I stop before I push through the stable doors into the night air. “If you’re not bringing Jake, we should bring Malin.”
Grey inhales to object, so I add, “You’re still the king. It shouldn’t just be you and me.”
He sighs and reaches for a tack closet, and I can tell he wants to refuse even this. But he says, “You trust him?”
“With my life.”
“All right. But no one else.” Then he turns back to the horse.
I watch him move for a second, sorrow seeming to fill every movement. I understand why he’s leaving. I understand all of it. But we survived a terrible battle. He’s the king of Emberfall, but he’s making a sacrifice to protectthiscountry—while returning to lead his own.
I’m sure he knows that, but I wonder if this feels like running. Likeyielding.
Even though it’s not.
“Your Majesty,” I say, and maybe he can hear the serious note in my tone, because he stops short and turns to look at me.
“For the good of Emberfall,” I say.
He goes still. Straightens. Some of the tragic emotion eases out of the air. “Thank you, Tycho.” For the first time since he walked into the stable, his voice is strong and clear. “For the good of all.”
I give him a final nod, clap a hand against the door, and then I’m gone.
CHAPTER 48
TYCHO
