Page 92 of The Cost of Blood and Bonds

We step out into the cool night air, and Rosie is practically bouncing beside me.

“Grier, I can do more of this. We should go to the villages most in need. I can grow enough grain to get families through the winter.”

Grier holds up a hand. “Rosie. Slow down.”

“But—”

“Finn is right. This is dangerous, more dangerous than you realize. You need to be a last resort, not the first solution we reach for.”

Her face falls.

“We’ll find other ways first,” Grier continues. “We’ll intercept and redistribute shipments. And when those methods fail—when there’s no other option—we’ll come to you.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

She nods slowly. I can see her wrestling with it, the need to help warring with the logic of holding back.

I reach over and take her hand. She looks at me, surprised.

“What you did in there was incredible. You’re incredible.”

I bring her hand to my chest and keep it there, holding her gaze. Her cheeks go pink, and she doesn’t look away.

Grier clears his throat. “If you two are done, we should get back,” he says with warmth in his eyes.

“You’re right; we should get back before Rye and Gemma burn down the tavern,” Rosie says teasingly.

I look at Rosie, still glowing, and feel dread move through me like cold water. She just stopped being invisible tonight, and in this kingdom that’s the most dangerous thing you can be. I feel the weight of keeping her safe settle alongside the ones I’m already hiding.

Chapter 30

Gemira

The tavern is loud and lively, but still not enough to distract me from the thoughts that have been circling my head all day.

When we finish this, I promise you—you won’t be able to think straight.

I take a long drink of ale, but it doesn’t help.

Ryewood and I claimed two stools at the bar earlier. Our empty stew bowls have been pushed aside in favor of fresh ales. The band has drawn most of the crowd toward them.

He’s watching me. I can feel his steady, patient attention that sets my skin on fire.

I make the mistake of looking at him. He’s unfairly beautiful tonight with his dark shirt open at the collar, revealing tan skin stretched over hard muscle. His sleeves are rolled past his elbows, and his forearms flex every time he lifts his drink to his mouth, and all I can picture is him pulling me close and pinning me down with those huge arms.

And his deep green eyes are fixed on me with an intensity that makes heat pool low in my core, and I need to squeeze my thighs together under the bar. He hasn’t even touched me yet, and I’m already coming undone.

I set my ale down and turn to face him. If he’s going to look at me like this, he can deal with the consequences.

“You’ve been awfully quiet tonight, Ryewood.”

“Have I?” His voice is easy, like he’s got all the time in the world.

“Mmhmm. I’m starting to think you forgot about your little promise.”

His eyes darken, and my heart pounds.