Page 42 of Blood Ties

Bryony watched the chains rather than my face. She had learnt quickly. Relief could wait until we knew the court wasn’t offering freedom for a few seconds simply to take it back.

I moved one step farther into the suite. The fire’s heat reached my skin, and the scent of bread replaced some of the blood in the air. Neither was remarkable. Both had been out of reach that morning.

The sitting room looked much as it had when Cecily used it. Pale stone, a black iron fire and two deep chairs filled most of the space. Bryony’s coat hung over one chair to dry. Her boots sat near the hearth, and a plate holding half a sandwich waited on the table.

The ordinary details changed the room completely. Someone lived here again.

I reached the nearest chair. The chain tightened, stopping me with my hand on its back.

“That’s the limit,” I said. “I can guard the suite entrance and reach anyone who comes through the throne room. I can’t get to the kitchen, bedroom or bath.”

Bryony looked at the blood dried across my shirt. “The bath is the most disappointing part of that list.”

“I was imprisoned without warning. I didn’t pack a change of clothes.”

“Harrowmere filled an entire wardrobe for me. Ask it nicely.”

“I’ll consider it once the chain stops changing.”

The thin red line at the threshold brightened and drew my attention back to the court. The next pull could turn the extra range into a weapon, and Bryony needed to recognise the warning signs.

I crouched beside the chain where it crossed the suite threshold. A thin red line had appeared in the pale stone.

“Come and look at this.”

She moved to my side, bringing the water jug with her. She didn’t crowd me, although her shoulder brushed mine when she bent down.

I pointed to the line. “A ward is a rule fixed into a place. You don’t need to learn dozens of symbols. Watch what the room does. A safe ward leaves a clear path and settles when you stop moving. A hostile one closes around you, points towards you or changes after you cross it.”

“And red means blood.”

“Usually. Black means Adrian has damaged or altered something. Silver belongs to the older royal wards. The colour matters less than the movement. If a line starts closing behind you, step back at once.”

Bryony watched the thin red mark. It remained straight and still.

“This one?”

“It marks the end of my range. It isn’t interested in you.”

She put the toe of her boot over the line. Nothing changed.

Then she stepped across it and stood directly in front of me.

The chain stayed loose.

I lifted my hand towards her and stopped with my fingers near her shoulder. The ward didn’t react. When I touched the soft wool of her jumper, the line remained unchanged.

Bryony glanced at my hand but didn’t pull away. I let my fingers rest there for a moment, then lowered them. The feeding had made every point of contact too easy to remember.

The red line marked where my body could go. It didn’t control who could come close. That distinction gave us room to live without pretending the prison had disappeared.

“Useful,” she said. “The court doesn’t punish you for being near me.”

“Not yet. I spent a century learning that Harrowmere can make a good situation temporary.”

The lightness left her expression. I regretted that, but false reassurance would put her at risk.

She handed me a cup of water. I drank while she sat in the chair I could reach. Her jumper sleeve had fallen over the bite, hiding it from view.