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“I’m his soldier. And because I serve him well, Mia has thrived. She got out of that cell because of me. She’s been happy. Safe. She hasn’t been a prisoner. Igave her that, Grayson. What have you given her? Years in a windowless cell. Fear and panic. Caretakers who hurt her—tried to kill her.”
Grayson’s body was wound with so much tension, he couldn’t breathe. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You might have convinced Mia that you’re something other than the Black Hand, but you and I both know you’re not. And as long as you can’t control your anger and your impulses, she’s in danger. Don’t do anything that could cause her harm, or I will end you. That is your warning, and the only one I’ll give.”
Grayson's teeth ached, he was grinding them so hard. “Are you done?”
“No. Because as much as I hate you, I think you care for Mia. It might be in your twisted way, but you do care.”
He could barely hide his snort. The irony of Tyrell speaking those words tohim. . .
Tyrell ignored him. “I’m giving you a chance to prove it. Distance yourself from Mia. Let Father see that distance. Let her be under my protection, at least until Father’s anger with you has passed.”
“Your plan is utter rot. He knows I would never turn away from Mia.”
“So you won’t consider trying? Not even for her sake?”
“No.”
Tyrell’s dark brows slammed down. “She doesn’t belong to you.”
That was a kick to the gut, because it was true. Not in the possessive way Tyrell meant it—Grayson knew he’d never ownedMia; if anything, she’d ownedhim—but the reality that he wouldn’t be in her life once he got her back to Mortise hit him hard.
He’d known his fate before he’d left Duvan. Desfan had done nothing to hide it. Once Grayson returned Mia to the palace, he would be arrested for his crimes against Mortise, Devendra, and Zennor. It didn’t matter that he’d ultimately betrayed Liam, or that he’d been coerced in the first place by Liam’s threat to kill Mia. In the end, that hawk-sent message had called for Mia’s abduction, rather than her death. Grayson still wasn’t sure why his brother had lied to him about that. Threatening to kill her was more compelling, of course. And if Liam knew who Mia was, it made sense he wouldn’t want to kill her; he would have wanted to use her.
Regardless, Grayson knew he would stand trial beside his brother, and he had no illusions as to how that would end. He would be executed for his crimes—at the very least, imprisoned for the rest of his life.
He couldn’t think about this now. Getting Mia home safely was all that mattered. And part of that meant keeping Tyrell away from her.
He stared at his brother, his voice pitched low. “She doesn’t belong to you, either.”
The air between them pulled taut. The stairway was still empty of anyone else. They were alone—completely. Injured as he was, Grayson honestly didn’t know if he’d win if Tyrell chose to pull a knife.
But he would certainly try.
Tyrell’s jaw worked, then he folded his arms across his chest. “Mia has claimed us both. Neither of us have to like it, but we do need to accept it. That means I won’t kill you—unless I have to.”
Grayson didn’t verbalize the same promise, even though he knew he would honor it. For Mia. “Are we done?”
Tyrell’s mouth curled derisively. “I don’t know what she sees in you.”
Grayson’s eyes grew slitted. “Fates only know how you managed to manipulate her into forgetting the fact that you beat her. But I assure you, I willneverforget.”
A ghost rose in Tyrell’s eyes. “Neither will I.”
He bristled, though he wouldn’t have been able to verbalize why; Tyrell’s guilt just felt wrong.
Grayson turned on his heel and continued down the stairs. Each step reverberated pain across his face, and he knew riding a horse was going to be excruciating.
Tyrell followed, and when they reached the bottom of the stairs he said under his breath, “I’m sorry.”
Surprise—and wariness—pierced him. “For what?”
Tyrell’s gaze dipped to Grayson’s cheek. “For a lot of things.”
The unexpected words stole every thought from his head. He had no response.
He watched Tyrell’s expression harden, determination etched in every line of his face. “For her sake, I won’t fight you. But let me make this clear—I amfightingforher.”
