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His face was tight, and she knew he was struggling.
She shifted so she could reach the pitcher of water Rena had left. She poured some into a tin cup and passed it to Grayson. “Just sip it slowly,” she urged.
He did, his throat bobbing as he swallowed.
When he finished, she filled the cup again.
As he drank, she told him what had happened to the Fletchers. She hoped to distract him. She also handed him a slice of the crusty brown bread left on the tray.
He pinched off a piece and chewed slowly. “I just wanted to make sure you’re all right. Then I’ll leave you to rest.”
He spoke so easily, but she didn’t understand. He was going to leave? They’d been inseparable since their escape; she’d assumed he’d be staying in the cabin with her.
Her lips parted, ready to ask him to stay, but doubt trickled in. If she asked, he would stay—of course he would. But did hewantto? Grayson had been given far too few choices in his life, and she didn’t want to take any more from him.
“Did Tyrell hurt you?” he asked. The suddenness of the question made her think he hadn’t intended to ask.
She thought of Tyrell. Of the things he’d said, and the desperate way he’d held her arm.
“No. He didn’t hurt me.” She sighed. “He thought I was in danger with you. Thatyouwould hurt me.”
Grayson went rigid. “I would never hurt you.”
“I know.” She bit her lip. “He wasn’t going to let me go. He would have dragged me back there.” He thought he was protecting her. From Grayson, and Henri.
He was going to be so angry—so hurt—when he woke. She wished she could give him one last embrace. Tyrell Kaelin was many things, but a part of her would always pray that he could one day be happy. That one day, he could be free.
Sending that thought to the fates, she focused on Grayson. He was barely eating, but he had to be starving.
“I can ask for something else to eat,” she said. “There must be something that will soothe your stomach.”
She moved to stand, but Grayson set a hand on her thigh, the touch stilling her. “I’m fine, Mia. Don’t worry about me.”
“I’m always going to worry about you,” she said. “But once we get to Duvan, things will be better.”
A muscle flexed in his jaw.
Not the reaction she’d expected—especially sincehe’dbeen the one trying to convince her of that, even when she’d panicked at the thought of going home.
Dread she didn’t fully understand rose inside her.
“Mia . . .” His voice was guarded. Almost wary. Then, like a wall falling down, his expression softened. His head shook slightly, as if knocking aside a thought. He leaned in and brushed a kiss against her cheek. “Everything will be fine,” he promised, a whisper against her skin.
There was something he wasn’t telling her, and instinct screamed it was bad.
The ship rocked, and Grayson’s jaw locked.
Compassion drove away her curiosity; she could question him later, when he wasn’t feeling so sick. She rubbed a hand down his arm. “Lie down.”
He looked like he might protest, but then the ship dropped on another wave. He paled and eased down on the mattress, lying on his back. “Just for a moment,” he said, closing his eyes.
Exhaustion lined his face, so she wasn’t surprised when he soon fell asleep.
She studied him for a long moment, just grateful she had him in her life. She’d had many dark moments in her sixteen—almost seventeen—years, but Grayson was a gift. One she was determined not to lose.
Whatever her fate, she knew she would be holding Grayson. And he would be holding her, too, because he loved her.
On that thought, she shoved away any niggling doubts about the future and blew out the lamp fastened to the wall beside the bed, plunging the cabin into darkness. Moonlight crept through the mist on the other side of the window, shedding just enough light that Mia could easily settle in beside Grayson. She tugged a quilt over them both. With her head tucked on the pillow beside his, the familiar scents of pine and spice surrounded her. Lying beside Grayson, she felt like she was already home.
