Page 34 of Queen of War and Ruin

I slam the latch down.

“Stop being an idiot,” I growl. “You’re drunk, and you’re going to hurt yourself.”

He backs away, then grabs the latch on the next stall. The horse inside nickers in alarm.

“No, I’m leaving,” he says. “I’m not doing anyone any good here.”

“Stop it!” I cry. I shove him away from the stall. “I’m not going to let you go!”

He staggers into the middle of the row of stalls, panting, his eyes shining wildly in the light.

“You can’t stop me,” he snarls.

He moves forward, and I think of Petrys, of the little meadow with aspen trees and flowers. I meet him halfway to the stall, shove my foot under his leg, and reach for his arm to throw him into the pile of straw.

But he spins instead of falling. And, when he trips over my leg, he drags me down too.

He lands with a grunt in the pile of straw beneath the lantern, and I crash down on top of him. I push away from his chest, the tangle of his legs. And he starts laughing. Or it might be laughing.

I stop trying to pull away. He turns his face into my arm, burying the sounds that probably aren’t laughter.

“Fuck, Princess,” he finally whispers, his voice thick with wine. “Don’t. Don’t let me go.”

All the shattered pieces of my broken heart soften. I blink until my eyes stop stinging, then bend down and kiss the top of his head. Softly, so he won’t notice.

“You are an idiot,” I tell him.

And I wrap my arms around his shoulders, and hold him, and pretend the noises he’s making are laughter.

Chapter 19

Lilias

CUTTING THE RIBBON

The sound of the barn door opening drags me back to consciousness. I blink against the sudden flood of sunlight as the sound of boots on the floorboards echoes through the stables.

“Ah, here you are,” Gerard says. “Your brother’s looking for you.”

I sit up and try to pull some of the straw out of my hair. Gerard makes a face at the unconscious man curled in the straw next to me.

“It’s—” I begin, then stop.

I shake my head and decide to abandon any attempts to explain what happened last night.

“Don’t let him leave, okay?” I say.

Gerard nods. “Want me to tie him up?”

“Gods, no,” I say. “He can leave the barn. Just, don’t let him leave⁠—”

I stop myself before I can finish that sentence. Gerard stares at me, then shrugs.

“Your brother’s in his room,” Gerard says. “He wants to talk to you.”

I stand up, swallow hard, and brush straw off my filthy clothes. Gerard leans against a post, puts his hand on his dagger, and glares at Zarek in a way that makes my throat feel tight.

“Don’t—” I say, then hesitate. “Don’t hurt him.”