Page 70 of The Cost of Blood and Bonds

“Told you,” she says, grinning. “They’re the best thing in the castle.”

We finish one, then another, talking between bites about nothing important. At some point, I notice the echo of my father’s voice isn’t as loud anymore. When the tray is empty, the comfortable silence returns.

“Thank you, Gemma.”

“Don’t mention it,” she says while stretching. “And now, if the night baker catches me raiding her prep, I’ll just blame the crown prince.”

I laugh harder than I have in a long time, and she joins in easily. When our laughter finally fades, she stands.

“I should go,” she says, slipping away like a bird lifting from a branch. But at the door, she stops and turns back.

“Gem,” she says quietly.

“What?”

“That’s what you can call me…if you want.” She shrugs, like it doesn’t matter. But her voice tells me it does. “Goodnight, Hayes.”

“Goodnight, Gem.”

She’s gone before I can think of anything else to say.

Chapter 23

Gemira

I’ve had the rotations mapped for weeks. The guards swap out at the bell with two minutes where they overlap, then the corridor is clear. I’ve watched it from three angles, timed my breath to their footsteps, and learned which one lingers for a beat longer at the corner. Tonight should be clean.

The corridor outside the King’s suites lies empty, exactly as it should be.

I move to the door and examine the lock. It’s ancient, with iron worn smooth from centuries of use and magic threaded through the frame like veins beneath skin. I catalog the tumbler depth and the reinforcement seams. It’s not impossible, but it’s the kind of lock that wants patience more than force.

I slip the pick from my sleeve and ease it into the keyway. The tension wrench catches, then skids. Metal slips from my fingers, and the sound is barely more than a whisper as it hits the stone. But in a corridor like this, whispers matter.

I freeze. There are footsteps coming too early to be the changeover. Someone heard me.

“Don’t move.” The voice comes from behind me.

Slowly, I straighten and force myself still. Panic only invites questions.

“I took the wrong staircase,” I say quietly, avoiding sounding defensive. I start to turn, but before I can, a hand closes firmly around my arm, not rough but unmistakably final.

He turns me to face him, and I take in the King’s Guard uniform. Two pale puncture scars mark the side of his throat just above his collar.

Surprise flashes across his face like he knows me. Tides, should I know him? Does she?

He pulls me back from the door and steers me toward the stairs. I go with him and let my shoulders slump, making myself easier to dismiss. I need distance from the King’s suites before I make a stand.

We reach the base of the stairs and pause. I risk a glance up at him, but his attention isn’t on me; it’s on the corridor. He’s watching reflections in the stone, listening and anticipating. His head tilts to one side, like he’s hearing something the corridor hasn’t given me yet. Then footsteps approach, and his grip tightens in warning.

He pulls me into the narrow recess beside the stairwell, pressing me flat against the stone and tucking himself in beside me. We disappear into the shadows. Pressed this close, I see what I missed before. Smaller scars sit between the punctures, the kind of shape only teeth could have made, animal teeth.

The footsteps reach us before I’ve steadied my breathing. The guards pass close enough that I smell oil and leather, one of them laughs while the other complains about the cold. My heart hammers, frantic and caged, like it’s trying to tear free. I stop breathing entirely. The moment stretches beyond what I think I can hold. Then they’re gone.

He doesn’t let go, just guides me forward, through the library past rows of darkened shelves, down the back stairs spiraling into the atrium. The throne room opens around us, moonlight cutting silver through the unnatural trees lining the marble floor.

He looks at me with a hint of amusement. “Garden or dungeon?”

I search his face for the trap, but all I find is an ease that makes no sense given what just happened.