Page 48 of The Cost of Blood and Bonds

The merchant’s eyes widen as he nods frantically.

“We can simply forget what we saw that night. You never saw our swordmaster, and I never saw you.”

“I won’t say anything,” the merchant cuts in. “I swear it.”

“I know you won’t.” Ryewood doesn’t move, doesn’t even blink. “Because we both know what happens if you do.”

The merchant stumbles backward through the gate, nearly tripping over his own feet. He doesn’t look back, and the gate swings shut behind him with a heavy clang.

My heart is still pounding when I turn to Ryewood. He lied for me, not a small lie either, the kind that could make it back to the King, and he did it so easily, like I was worth the cost. He makes me feel safe in a way I can’t afford, and I have to remind myself of all the reasons being with him is anything but that. I push the feeling down before it takes root.

“Who are the Caldwells?”

His expression is still closed and guarded.

“Not here,” he says quietly and glances toward the gardens and tilts his head. “Walk with me?”

My instincts scream to put distance between us, but my feet are already moving toward him.

We take a path deep into the gardens, away from the manicured hedges and well-trodden stone. The foliage thickens around us, the paths narrowing until the castle feels distant and the sea is close.

Ryewood stops at the edge, where the ground gives way to open air. The fog wall sits just off the shoreline, heavy and impenetrable. He doesn’t look at me. Instead, he stares out at the fog like it owes him something. His jaw works before he finally speaks.

“That night, I was sent by the King to the Caldwells.”

“Sent to do what?” I ask.

He doesn’t answer right away. His hands curl into fists at his sides.

“They had twin boys.”

My blood goes cold before the words even land.

“My father sends me to find them. Families who’ve hidden their twins. I’m supposed to⁠—”

“Supposed to what, Ryewood?” The words scrape out of me.

The silence stretches so long I think he won’t answer. Every instinct in me screams to run, to get as far from him as possible.

“Kill them.”

The word lands like a blade, and my vision narrows, and then I’m not here anymore. I’m a child in a snowbank with my mother’s body pressed flat over us while horses passed through the trees.

“But I don’t,” he says, pulling me back.

I force myself to breathe, but my chest is still too tight.

“What do you mean?”

He finally turns to face me. The pain in his eyes is raw and unguarded. Like he’s showing me something he’s never shown anyone.

“I defy him. Every time.” His words come out barely above a whisper. “I help them escape.”

My heart stutters.

“I make them separate. I force the families apart and send the children to different villages, different relatives, somewhere the King will never find them.” He shakes his head. “It’s the only way. If they stay together, if they’re ever seen together again…”

He doesn’t finish; he doesn’t have to.