Page 44 of The Cost of Blood and Bonds

They ignore me.

Ryewood presses in with a combination, high, low, feint. Grier absorbs it, then drives forward with his superior size, forcing Ryewood back several steps.

Ryewood’s jaw is clenched, and Grier’s face is stone. They reset and attack again, harder this time.

Fuck. They’re actually trying to hurt each other.

“Stop.” I step between them, planting a hand on each of their chests. “What the fuck was that⁠—”

“Well, well.” Bastion’s voice carries easily.

I turn to see the Davriks approaching, Bastion in the lead with Beaumont and Belinda flanking him, all dressed for training.

Bastion’s gaze flicks from Ryewood to Grier, then back to me, lingering this time.

“Careful. The King dislikes distractions,” Beaumont says with a smile, slow and pleased.

Silence stretches, and I feel everyone’s eyes on me. I’m the center of something I didn’t mean to create.

Belinda’s eyes land on Hayes, then flick to Rosie. Her smile sharpens. “Lady Rosie. I hadn’t heard you’d been training.” She tilts her head. “I imagine it’s quite different, training with royalty, than what you were used to before.”

Hayes stills.

Rosie’s hand slides onto his arm, gentle and deliberate. “It’s all right,” she says softly.

Then she turns to Belinda, and sweetly says, “You have more experience, Lady Belinda. Perhaps you’d like to partner with Hayes?”

Rosie doesn’t look back at Hayes when she steps away. She moves toward Ryewood and Grier, placing herself neatly between them.

“Rye,” she says lightly, “would you like to partner with me?”

His expression softens just a fraction, and he nods.

I catch Rosie’s eye and give the smallest nod. She answers with one of her own. She’s cleaning up after me, and we both know it.

Belinda steps into position with Hayes, perfect form with absolutely no instinct. Hayes meets it with practiced politeness and distance.

“Excellent,” I say, reclaiming the yard. “Bastion and Beaumont pair up together. Grier, you’ll observe with me.”

Grier takes up his position beside me as the pairs start to fight.

Ryewood is gentle with Rosie, almost sweet and without a trace of condescension, but she could still hold her own against most of the guards here.

“This is getting out of hand,” Grier says under his breath. “He’s drawing eyes.”

I keep my eyes forward. He’s right. I feel the yard pressing in.

“I got it handled,” I say quietly.

“Do you? Because from where I’m standing, this is turning into something we can’t contain.”

I don’t answer.

“That kind of attention doesn’t stay private,” he says.

I glance back at the pairs training. Ryewood is still working with Rosie, his blade moves on instinct alone, but his attention is entirely on us. He doesn’t even bother to hide it. His jaw is tight, and anyone looking could see where his attention truly is. Beneath the anger, there’s something raw, that looks a lot like hurt.

The space between me and Grier feels suddenly too small.