“No,” he said, voice low.
“It was that awful." Raveena exhaled, more breath than sigh. "I shouldn't have let you go."
"You couldn't have stopped me."
He felt her shrug. It was the same shrug she gave when an adversary underestimated her.
“Let's talk about my stepdaughter instead. We need to start planning how to deal with her. How to remove her.”
“Is that all you really care about?”
“I care about keeping the crown on my head and this castle under my command. I’m a queen. What else is there to care about?”
He shifted beneath her, forcing her to slip from his back. Raveena hit the mattress with a thud and a hiss of surprise. She landed beside him in a tangle of limbs and disheveled hair. The white strands framed her face like fallen snow, but there was nothing soft in her expression—only irritation. Like a cat whose owner rubbed its fur the wrong way.
Graham sat up, chest heaving. The ache in his back from where she’d traced her name still burned like a brand, and gods help him, part of him wanted to drag her back down and mark her the same way. Instead, he answered her rhetorical question.
“You should care about your people. Your lands. Me.”
“The people are fed and warm. The land is thriving under my rule. And you—” She reached for him, but he stepped back, standing now, the muscles of his back taut with anger. “You’re mine. I have all of it, and I’ll keep it, so long as I have the crown and the castle.”
Graham laughed—sharp, bitter, a sound torn straight from his chest. He paced away from her, bare feet slapping against the stone floor. The window called to him. Or maybe it was the storm outside, the snow hammering against the glass in thick, relentless sheets.
The cold always came for her. Tried to breach her skin, sink into her bones. The fire always moved away from her, as if even the flames knew better than to get too close to a woman made of frost and fury.
“She can’t manage it,” Raveena added. “Snow’s too naïve. If Charming marries her, we lose everything.”
You lose everything, he thought.Not we. Not the kingdom. You.
Because all that meant anything to Raveena—was power. And the palace built to reflect it. She didn’t know Snow had already moved against her. Didn’t know Graham had been the one chosen to end her reign.
He bent and retrieved the dagger from where he’d dropped it. The cool weight of it steadied something in his chest. He wouldn't use it on her, not for a mortal wound. Maybe for a possessive marking. But not tonight.
“Where are you going?” she demanded.
He didn’t look at her as he pulled on his trousers. “I have to prepare for the Winter Games.”
She cocked her head. “Why?”
He punched his arms into his tunic, yanking it down over his chest. “I’ve got the urge to gut something.”
Raveena reclined lazily on the bed, unabashed in her nakedness, her thighs parting like a promise. “What about my matching pair of bruises?”
Graham turned to look at her. He should have known better. The sight of her always made him putty inside. But he wasn't letting her get her hands on him. Not for a while.
“I’ll claim that as my prize. If I win.”
"If?" she scoffed. “When you win.”
The way she said it—like he couldn’t possibly fail, like she believed in him more than anyone ever had—tightened the emotions in his chest. The rage became a smaller ball. The desire flared hotter. And that pissed him off all the more. He growled under his breath because he didn’t understand this woman.
In the bed, Raveena clung to him like he was her world. She surrendered everything to him when she was naked. Her body. Her mind. He'd thought that included her heart.
But that organ was cold. Unreachable. No matter what he said. No matter what he did. She would never love him the way that he loved her.
He was just a possession to her. A tool. A piece on the game board.
For him, she was the only thing that ever made him feel whole.
