Page 83 of Grenade


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“She needs the support. Politics isn’t her bag. She never asked for this and now she has to fucking do it. She needs support.”

“She has her government. They’re good. They’ll work better for her than Lennox – he was a loose cannon…”

“She trusts you.”

He inhales sharply.

“I can’t. Not yet.”

“Why?”

“I have too much baggage. My family.”

I nod. “I get that.”

“Ivy.”

“There’s more to this than we know?”

He nods, looks to the clouded sky. “I step into the light and some of it will land on Ivy. Not yet. Not until she’s married and away from here.” He grabs my shoulders and we almost hold each other. “She has you.”

I don’t say anything and he waits.

“Ben, not having you would kill her.”

“Having me might kill her too.”

“For fuck’s sake.” He relaxes, drops his arms and looks to the snow covered ground.

“Promise me you’ll be there for her.”

His gaze is stern and fixed, breaking each particle of me into fragments.

“Yes, but you might not know it.”

“You don’t have to be what you think. You can choose something else.”

“Says he who wants to live in his brother’s shadow.”

“Because of Ivy.”

“Because of Majken.”

Isaac looks away towards the mountains and I wonder if he’s sending up a prayer to some deity he believes in.

“Why Blair?” My words bring his eyes back to me.

“I don’t know. I don’t know why you either.”

This kiss he gives me is quick and hard and leaves both of us catching our breath as we walk back inside, heads high, ready for the rest of the night.

* * *

The sun isn’t up when I head to the stables. The castle’s been cleaned of its hangover, staff working through the night to ensure that the aftermath of rubbish and glasses and the remnants of half-drunk cocktails are dispersed of before anyone’s awake.

I haven’t gone to bed.

Sleeping wasn’t on my packed agenda and my mind is too full to allow room for dreams. I head outside across the whitened courtyard towards the stables, knowing that time just grooming will chip away at the weight that’s dragging me down. Fresh footprints mark the almost-virgin white; someone else is seeking company of the horses.