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“Then my feelings remain my problem.” She stared at Adrian. “You’re the one who grabbed me.”
The oath marks around the throne flared.
Adrian saw them and lunged for the case.
Bryony turned away. His hand closed around the strap, and the force pulled her backwards. She caught herself against the throne with her bandaged palm.
The cut opened.
One drop of blood struck the raven seal.
The whole court stopped.
Then the Claiming hit.
Bryony’s pain crossed the bond first. Cold power followed it up her arm and drove through my chest. Every lamp burned white. The service passage opened wider while the main gate began to close.
Red lines raced across the floor and wrapped around Adrian’s boots.
He released the case too late.
The court threw him into the nearest pillar. Stone cracked behind his shoulder. Lenora drew her sword on instinct, then dropped it when the ward lifted her from the floor.
“Don’t fight it,” I told her. “It’ll read the blade as a threat to the heir.”
The stone swallowed the sword before it landed.
The pressure around Lenora eased enough to carry her towards the gate without crushing her. She caught the edge of the arch and looked at Bryony.
“Stay away from the Crown,” she said. “The rooms will keep you alive.”
It was the first order she’d refused for Bryony. Adrian heard it too.
He reached for Lenora, but the ward dragged him backwards. Red light burned through his sleeves as he fought to keep one hand inside the room.
“You’ve trapped yourself with a murderer,” he called. “The court won’t open again until you wear the Crown.”
Bryony stood beside the throne with blood soaking through her bandage. Fear hammered through our bond. Her voice stayed steady.
“Then you’ll have plenty of fucking time to practise accepting no.”
The gate slammed shut.
Red light sealed every gap between the bars. Beyond them, stone closed over the passage and erased Adrian from sight.
The Claiming turned on me next.
My remaining chains snapped tight. I caught myself with my free hand before the restraint at my waist could drive me face-first into the dais. New red marks burned across the iron, but the open cuff stayed on the floor.
Bryony took one step towards me, then stopped beyond reach. “Is it killing you?”
“No. It’s tightening the restraints.”
She watched the new marks until the pain eased enough for me to breathe.
I looked at the open service door. Warm light filled the passage, and water ran somewhere beyond it. Harrowmere had given Bryony somewhere to sleep, eat and lock herself away from me.
It had removed the way back upstairs.
