The words stop on my tongue. I can’t say it. My vow to the scraver could ultimately mean nothing, or it could mean everything. I don’t even know when or how Nakiis will claim his time. Or who his enemy will be.
It could be Grey.
The thought hits me with a start, and a tiny lance of fear pierces my heart.
I set my jaw. “I would rather not say, Your Majesty.”
“Tycho, if you call me that again, I am going to punch you in the face.”
“Good.” I let go of Mercy’s reins and shove him square in the chest. “Do it.”
He falls back a step. “Don’t do this.”
I shouldn’t. IknowI shouldn’t. It’s not the time or the place, and we have bigger issues. But I’m exhausted and discouraged and my emotions won’t settle.
I go to shove him again, and he deflects, catching my arm. I expect him to attack, but he doesn’t. He grabs hold of the breastplate of my armor and holds me back.
“Stop,” he says, his voice low.
“I know youwantto hit me,” I growl. “Just do it.”
“I don’t, actually.” He lets me go. “But you clearly want to hitme. So go ahead.”
I’m swinging a fist before he’s done speaking. I truly don’t think he expected me to do it, because he takes the hit fully. He stumbles back and ends up in the dirt.
He swears and spits blood at the ground, then looks at me, rubbing his jaw. “Silver hell. You really meant that.”
“I did.”
“Do you feel better?”
“No.” I feelworse. I turn away and take hold of Mercy’s reins. “I shouldn’t have delayed us.” I don’t wait for him. I start walking.
He falls into step with me very quickly, but I don’t look at him. We walk in silence again. The tension between us is unchanged.
Grey does not yield, Rhen said.
Obviously.
“What did you barter?” Grey says after a while, as if the last ten minutes never happened.
Fine. I can play this game. “I’d rather not say, Your Majesty.”
“Tycho.”
“I’m very good at keeping secrets. Perhaps you remember.”
“I never forgot.”
If he said it arrogantly, I’d punch him again. But I can’t read his voice, and despite myself, I glance over. He doesn’t look angry. Or defensive. He looks … remorseful.
I don’t want remorse. I want … something else.
“I’m surprised that you followed me,” he says. “If you’re this angry at me.”
“You needed to know what you were heading into,” I say tightly. “And I didn’t want you to kill Jax. I don’t care what you think of me, but he’s not behind this.”
“So you didn’t seek to help me. You sought tostopme.”
