Page 78 of The Cost of Blood and Bonds

“Strategy,” she replies, sweet as poison.

I glance at Gemma. She’s watching them, with her expression soft and her eyes bright. She abandons her instructor stance entirely and drifts closer like she’s been pulled.

“How does it work?” she says, like she’s asking to see a secret room.

Hayes hesitates, like no one’s ever asked him that in plain words.

“It’s…” He considers. “It’s like asking.”

Gemma blinks. “Asking what?”

He crouches and presses his palm to the ground, not in a theatrical way. “The ground,” he says, “and anything rooted to it.”

The earth answers with a low tremor beneath our boots, rippling through the frost like the whole clearing just sighed.

Gemma laughs, bright and real, and my chest aches at the sound.

Hayes lifts his hand and flexes his fingers like he’s shaking off the cold. “Stone listens easiest,” he says. “It’s simple and doesn’t argue.”

“And plants?” Gemma asks quickly, excitement lacing through her words.

“Plants are harder,” he admits. “Living things push back. They have their own…will.”

Gemma frowns in concentration. “So you can’t make them do whatever you want?”

Hayes’s mouth twitches. “Father does. I don’t. I ask.”

My brother is smiling proudly, like he likes having someone look at him this way, like what he can do is wonder instead of weight.

“Show me your favorite thing to grow,” she says with pure joy.

Hayes hesitates, then presses his palm to the ground again. An apple tree pushes through the frost, and he picks an apple and gives it to Gemma.

“What about our favorite, Gem?” he says with a smile.

She takes the apple and bites it. A look flickers across her face, gone before I can name it.

Since when does my brother have a nickname for her? Since when are they close enough for that?

“More,” Gemma says, and there’s no trace of the guarded instructor now. She’s practically glowing. “Show me more.”

Hayes and Rosie exchange a look, then press their hands to the earth together. The clearing erupts with wildflowers pushing through the frost, vines curling up tree trunks, and moss spreading soft and green across the ground. Winter retreats in a perfect circle around us.

Gemma turns in a slow circle, wonder written all over her face, unguarded in a way she almost never lets herself be. My chest aches. She’s always beautiful, but this version of her, unguarded and glowing, is the one that undoes me.

Across the clearing, Grier is watching her like everything else has fallen away. Then his eyes meet mine, and the softness vanishes. His jaw goes rigid and his expression smooths.

The guilt settles heavier in my chest.

“Hayes, show us your stag!” Gemma demands, practically bouncing on her toes.

Hayes laughs, shaking his head. “Come on, Gem, that’s embarrassing.”

There it is again. Gem.

“Please?” Rosie adds, tilting her head. “I’ve never seen it either.”

Hayes hesitates, glancing between them, the two women he clearly can’t say no to.