Page 142 of The Cost of Blood and Bonds

She bites her lip, glancing at the glass, then back at Finn.

“I should probably slow down…”

He clutches his chest in mock offense. “I’m going into the trials tomorrow, Rosie. You might never see me again. You’d deny a man his proper send-off?”

She rolls her eyes but takes the glass. “You’re impossible.”

“Impossibly charming,” he corrects.

She laughs. That bright, easy laugh, the one I used to think was just for me. But it’s not anymore. Maybe it never was.

I watch them, the way she leans into him, the way her eyes light up when he speaks. Has she ever looked at me like that? I thought she had. I thought there was something between us, something real and worth waiting for. But maybe I was just seeing what I wanted to see. Maybe I’ve been fooling myself this whole time, about her, about Gem, about all of it.

“I need another drink,” I mutter, even though my glass is still half-full. “I’ll be back.”

Rosie blinks, confused. “Hayes, are you all right⁠—”

“Fine. I’m fine.”

I don’t wait for Finn’s response. I just turn and walk, putting as much distance between us as I can.

Father. Rye. The twins. Belinda. Rosie. Finn.

Every piece of my life is slipping through my fingers, and I can’t close my fist fast enough.

I’m almost to the side door when I catch Gem moving along the far wall, light and quick, like a bird slipping through branches. She’s heading away from the ballroom, away from the crowd. The tension in me dulls at the sight of her because she’s the one person in this castle who doesn’t want anything from me. Maybe she isn’t choosing me, and maybe that’s all right. Rye deserves happiness more than anyone I know, and at least what Gem and I have is honest. The walks, the conversations, none of it was for leverage or access. It’s friendship, and right now that’s the only thing in my life I trust. I follow her.

She’s faster than I expect, and the corridors blur around me, the alcohol making it worse. When I turn the corner, she’s crouched in front of a door I know too well.

“Gem,” I say lightly. “Sneaking off without me?”

She goes rigid.

“Thought night walks were our thing.” I step closer. “If you wanted to escape the ball, you could’ve just asked⁠—”

“Hayes,” she says, breathless as her hands dart behind her back.

I reach for her hand, the way I’ve imagined doing a hundred times on our walks. But when my fingers close around it, something cold and metallic presses into my palm. I pull her hand between us and open her fingers to find lockpicks sitting in her palm.

It takes me a beat too long, the champagne slowing everything down, but then I see the door behind her and the world tilts. She’s at my father’s chambers.

“Gem,” I say, my voice barely my own. “What are you doing?”

Her whole body flinches, and I see pure fear on her face.

“It’s not what it looks like.”

She breathes. I watch her pull herself together, watch the fear smooth into a softer, practiced version of herself. By the time she looks at me again, she’s the Gem from our night walks.

“Garden walk?” she offers. “Just us?”

She reaches for my hand, and the worst part is how badly I want to take it. But I can’t unsee what just happened, the panic, the recovery, the performance. Our walks, our talks, all of it rearranging in my head. I pull away.

The last thread holding me together tonight snaps.

“Hayes—” The performance is gone, and only panic is left. “Hayes, wait, it’s not what you think⁠—”

“Then what is it?” My voice breaks. “Because I think I’ve been a fool. I think everyone in my life has been playing me, and I’ve been too stupid to see it.”