Surely not by his hand.
“I chased them to the wall,” he said, his tone measured.
His gaze flicked to Nienna, who stood motionless, her head bowed, the edge of a grimy cloth slipping through her fingers. He hesitated, a silent question if she should stay for his report.
“The princess remains at my side until Reem is cleared,” I said.
His expression tightened, though he gave a curt nod. We both knew she should have been secured in another room. Too many lines had been blurred tonight—by the assassin, by me. There was no undoing it.
“What happened, Greaves?” I shifted, rolling my shoulders to loosen the tension creeping into my stance. Nienna had to see him as more than a guard. She needed to understand that if I faltered, he could be trusted to protect her.
His jaw worked before he moved to his bed. The wary set of his eyes didn’t waver as he retrieved blades scattered under the mattress and pillow, securing them with practiced efficiency.
“They fell from the wall,” he said, fastening a strap around his arm. “Broke their back against a wagon’s side. Dead by the time I got there.”
“I want to see the body.” My words cut through the stillness, leaving no room for discussion.
“In the medical wing, untouched for your inspection.”
“And the palace?”
“All clear, save for the ambassadors’ quarters,” he replied, adjusting a belt of throwing knives strapped across his chest.
“Egath?”
“Already searched. His rooms were dismantled. He’s furious, but servants are making repairs.”
“I don’t care about how he feels,” I snapped, shoving my feet into boots. “When the palace is secured, call the council. I want everyone accounted for.”
Greaves nodded, but I barely noticed. My focus lingered on Nienna, her fingers curled against her sides, her nightgown so sheer I could see the pink of her skin beneath it. The night’s events had shaken her, and her quiet presence cut through my fury like a jagged edge. She had no one—no kin, no safety beyond what I could provide.
Her gaze stayed fixed on the floor, a tear slipping from the tip of her nose. Shoulders hunched, she looked adrift, her vulnerability stark against the chaos of the night. She stood in a room with me half-dressed and Greaves fastening an arsenal of blades to his chest, both of us hardened by battles she had only just begun to glimpse. She faced death tonight, crawled through ancient passages like some animal, and was now alone.
“Shall I call for Fyrn’sol?” I asked, tightening the straps of my boots.
Her head dipped in a silent no.
“I’ll summon your maids,” I offered.
Her control snapped, a sob ripping free as she collapsed onto the bed, trembling hands hiding her face. The sound clawed at me, hollowing out my resolve. I turned my glare to Greaves, and he froze mid-motion, boots in hand, sorrow carved into his features. He raised one finger, shaking his head in warning.
The realization hit like a hammer. Not only had Nienna endured an attack, she witnessed her maid fall. Grief knotted in my chest. I watched countless mendie, but imagining Greaves’ end was a weight I couldn’t bear. For her, that loss had already come.
I raised a finger in a silent query, my brow arched.
He shrugged, the answer clear.
How many maids had she arrived with? Three? No—two handmaids. And now one was gone, leaving just a single thread tying her to her people.
I rose, the movement deliberate. Greaves shadowed me, his frustration simmering. He was but a man, caught between two tasks: keeping her alive and ensuring my safety.
He moved first, rapping on the door before opening it to address the guards outside. His body blocked mine as I leaned to see past him.
“Summon an emergency council,” I commanded, my voice sharp as a whip. “Tell Fallione to gather who we need. And find Princess Nienna’s remaining handmaiden.”
They moved, shouts echoing down the corridor as Greaves slammed the door, his jaw clenched. “She needs her own guard,” he growled.
“Right now, she has you.”
