I swallowed hard, yearning for that vision to come true. But no. Cara was a deceiver. Her promises were a lie. I kept repeating that to myself before I knocked on Grave’s door.
Myrtha’s voice came. “Come in.” She glowered when I entered.
Graves was resting in his bed, pale and worn, but breathing. Myrtha ignored me.
“How is he?”
“Do you care?”
I reined in my temper. “Is he going to die?”
“I’m not a healer. Darius took care of him, and I’m here to make sure Graves is breathing.” She shook her head. “I kill men, and I have no sympathy for werewolves, but even I wouldn’t have killed him. He dared to challenge you, but draining him in front of everyone didn’t earn you any respect.”
“I didn’t ask to be preached to.”
“That’s a shame because you need to. This is the Dark Court, not a street gang where the strongest one is the cruellest.”
“I didn’t kill him though.”
She shot up. “Because Irene stopped you. You should thank her for having saved your neck because if you’d killed Graves, you would be facing a riot right now.”
Damn. I gnashed my teeth. “I’m aware of that.”
She waved me off. “You are the duke. You can’t think only of yourself.”
That stung more than I would care to admit.
“What you said earlier,” I said, “about me being the reason Irene almost died, is true. If I’d confided in others, Irene wouldn’t have been stabbed.”
“I understand that you don’t trust anyone.” She sighed. “I’m the same, but I’m not responsible for an entire court.”
I swallowed my bitter pride. “I’ll ponder your words.”
“Good.”
Before leaving, I paused. “When Graves wakes up, tell him Knight has already fulfilled his side of the bargain.”
As I walked towards Irene’s room, my temper deflated with each step. Everything Myrtha had said was correct, but I didn’t know how to make people trust me when I didn’t trust them.
It took me a few attempts before knocking on her door and opening it.
Irene was reading in a chair close to the window, her gaze cold. “Are you calm now?”
I shut the door behind me and sat in front of her. “I am.” I paused, trying to find the right words. “Killing Graves would have been a mistake. My secret is out, and killing him wouldn’t have changed that.”
“I agree.”
“And you were right about my soul.” My reflection flickered in the mirror. It was less sharp. “I risked becoming a rogue.”
She didn’t seem pleased with my confession. “Killing Graves would have destroyed you.”
“I’m sorry. Thank you for stopping me in time. I hope…” Emotion clogged my throat.
“What?”
“I hope you’ll stay with me,” I whispered.
I groaned inwardly at the way I’d shortened a rather long speech about how much I needed to hold her and wished I could take back the harsh words I’d said. I wanted to change for her, to be a man she might be proud of having by her side.
