Page 63 of The Cost of Blood and Bonds

“Working on his attitude,” I shout back, tightening my grip. “It’s a process.”

Rye uses my distraction to shove me off. I land on my back, and he drops down next to me, both of us breathing hard and staring up at the sky.

“Fuck you,” I say with a laugh.

“Fuck you too, brother.” He’s laughing as he slaps my chest.

We lay there for a minute, catching our breath.

“You good?” I ask, quieter now.

“Not even a little, but thanks.”

I nod and I don’t push. Sometimes that’s all you can do.

He shoves himself up, reaching a hand down to pull me up.

Rye’s expression shifts as he looks at something behind me. I turn and see Voss standing at the edge of the yard with hands clasped behind his back, like he’s been watching us for a while.

“Training seems…light today,” he says mildly as his gaze drifts to the empty space at the yard’s edge. “Commander Grier usually oversees sessions this close to the trials,” he says matter-of-factly.

I feel Rye tense beside me, every protective instinct written across his face plain to see. I don’t give it time to grow.

“Grier had to attend to other duties today,” I say evenly.

“And the swordmaster?” Voss asks, shifting his attention fully to Rye.

Rye’s pause is too long.

“She’s assisting him,” I say.

Voss studies Rye like he’s already planning how to use what he found.

“I see,” he says at last.

He doesn’t press any further, just turns and walks away. I wish I didn’t know exactly who he was taking this to.

Chapter 21

Ryewood

She’s back.

I see her the moment I step into the training yard, and my heart slams against my ribs so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t crack them.

A week without seeing her, and I don’t know what’s worse. Her not being here or her being here and not being able to go to her.

She’s at the weapons rack, sorting throwing knives. Her golden skin practically glows against the pale stone walls. Her dark hair gleams with copper in the early light. I remember my hands tangled in her hair, and the ache of it nearly buckles me.

When our eyes meet, the want is unmistakable. She doesn’t hide it fast enough, and for one unguarded moment, I see everything she’s been holding back. I look away first. I have to, because if I don’t, I’ll go to her, and I can’t make things worse for her than they already are.

I feel her attention slip past me, and I don’t have to turn to know who’s behind me. Grier walks past without a glance. His face is carved from stone, but I’ve known him long enough to read what his expression tries to hide. There’s tension in his jaw, shadows under his eyes, and he looks like he hasn’t slept in days.

Gemma moves to him and reaches out, her hand touching his arm, gentle and tentative. It’s not a claim or a comfort meant for show; it’s something private and careful. They exchange words I can’t hear. His head dips toward hers, and she says something that makes his whole body sag like whatever he’s been holding up finally got too heavy. Then he pulls her into a hug, long and tight, the kind that says more than words ever could.

Jealousy flashes and dies just as fast. This isn’t a contest. No one here is winning. They’re both broken, and the way they hold onto each other isn’t romance, but survival. Grier is one of my only true friends. He’s had my back more times than I can count. And watching him cling to her like she’s the only thing keeping him upright guts me.

They pull apart slowly. Grier brushes her wrist, then steps back, and his commander mode slides into place. But I saw what was underneath, and I won’t forget it.