The words, the truth, sank through me like waterlogged sand. Despair saturated my temper and thinned it away. I slowly swiveled around, and it seemed to take an eternity before I faced him once more. Such hopelessness rose to claim me. It would be so easy to welcome the nothingness, to give in, to give up. My hands were tied. Had always been tied.
I blinked back the useless tears stinging the backs of my eyes. “I was always going to end up here, wasn’t I?”
“Yes,” he said quietly. His gaze was intense and wary, I suppose, wondering if this time I’d break.
My shoulders fell, my gaze sinking to the floor.
Gods, there really had been no hope for me…
Yet I refused to give in to the inky wretchedness settling inside me. Instead, I simply breathed through my distress. One long breath at a time. I lifted my head, each of us holding oneanother’s gaze—Graysen’s features much softer, worried—until the knots in my body loosened and I calmed enough to turn and walk outside.
Perhaps being the weekend, the inner courtyard was quieter than usual, with only a few soldiers purposely wandering across the cobblestones, heading to their posts for the night shift rotation.
The wind whipped strands of my hair about my shoulders as I headed to the other side of the tower, where we hovered high above the buildings in the Keep’s northern wing, and beyond, the forest cloaked in green and lemony hues stretched across the rolling hills.
Graysen followed behind with silent footsteps, but I felt him. A sensation whispering that I wasn’t alone, that he was nearby, tugged at me to turn back to him.
Weatherworn stone pressed against my palms as I wrapped my fingers around the balcony railing, drinking in the twilight sky awash with dirty blues and creeping muted grays.
There was something at the edge of my consciousness, something to do with Sirro. I flipped through my memories of the Horned God. The last time I’d spoken to him was at Evvie’s engagement celebration. He’d wanted to dance with me, and as we’d waltzed across parquet flooring, he hinted at the Alverac, among other things. He’d tipped the puzzle pieces into my mind and allowed me to sift through them to form a small part of a bigger picture, enough for me to spin around in fright and run to my father to demand the true nature of the Alverac.
I clicked my tongue. There was something else in our conversation.
What was it?
There was a specific unease that slithered along my bones when I thought of Master Sirro and this boon he’d offeredthe Crowthers five years ago. I pondered it further, tapping a fingernail against the railing.
I turned around to face Graysen. He leaned against the wall with his hands tucked into his jeans pockets, one leg bent with a foot casually braced on stone. “Why do you think Master Sirro gifted you the Alverac? I know you say that he was trying to balance the scales after your mother saved a Horned God’s life, but he could have raised you to an Upper House. Hells, he could have even given you back your original position as rulers of the Great House. But he gave you the Alverac instead. The one thing that you needed to bind me. To own me. Sure, you could have gotten desperate and stolen me, but you would have had the might of the Houses against you. My father would have waged a war to retrieve me and slaughter your entire House.”
Graysen rolled his eyes. I suppose at that infallible belief his family was bred for warfare and more lethal than everyone else combined. He might be right, especially if they fortified their position behind the fortress. The siege would be long, but eventually they’d fall if the Horned Gods lent their strength.
I pressed on. “But Master Sirro gave you something no one could dispute. Almost as if he wanted you to have it. Why did he want you to own me?”
Oh, they did exactly what I thought they might…they claimed you.
There’d been something more to what was spoken between us as we’d twirled around the dance floor to a string quartet playing modern songs. Something obvious. Something jarring. I was certain it hid in the last moments I’d spoken to the Horned God.
It came back to me swiftly.
Not even a Horned God can overturn the Alverac. But there are ways to bend it…Crowther walking into a situation that not even someone like him could walk out of…alive. And that could be arranged if you simply ask.
I took a hurried step forward. “If Master Sirro purposely gave your family the Alverac to gain me, then why did he offer me a way out of it?”
Graysen dropped his casual repose, pushing off the wall. “What do you mean?”
“You’re not safe just yet, Graysen. You don’t own meyet. I’m not twenty. If you’re killed before then, I’m free.”
“He offered you a deal, right?”
I swallowed and nodded. “He did.”
At the silent question in his gaze—Did I take up Master Sirro’s offer?—I shook my head.
Graysen’s forehead creased as he glanced away to look behind me, perhaps at the forest’s canopy stretching across the horizon. “It’s more likely he’s playing games with all of us.Maybe he gave us the Alverac because he simply wants to bid on you…” The words broke apart, and right as he finished speaking the last word, his gaze sharpened, and he fisted a handful of hair and cursed low.“You.”
To go through all of this simply to bid on me? “If Master Sirro wanted me, he could simply ask me to be part of his harem.” That would be the easiest way to claim me.
“He can’t,” Graysen shot back, stepping close. He placed his hands on the railing on either side of me, a bluster of wind ruffling his hair. “You’re a Wychthorn princess. He can claim anyone from any House, just not yours.”
