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“Graeson,” someone nearby said, but he ignored it, his name flying away in the breeze. Whoever it was could wait. Right now, Graeson wanted to do anything besides talk.
Graeson slammed his fist into the training dummy.
In this state, he was dangerous. He could sense his grasp on it slipping. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to rein it in. It felt too good, too freeing to let the beast out and put his emotions behind a locked door. He didn’t want to feel; he didn’t want to think.
He wanted to fight.
He wanted revenge.
And he wanted the world to drown as his vision became coated in a violent red hue.
“Graeson,” the person repeated.
He faintly recognized the voice, but he couldn’t pinpoint it. Everything in this state was hazy, blurry. Gray.
All Graeson could manage was a garbled grunt, unable to form words as his breathing became labored with each successive hit. He adjusted his stance and circled the training dummy, searching for a new target to attack. Finding it, he reared his elbow back again.
A hand gripped his arm, stunting his movement. “Graeson.”
He snarled, a feral sound originating from the pit of his stomach. A sound not wholly his but something other.
No one should be ordering him around.
No one honestly could, though, could they? He wasn’t one of them. It was only because of his upbringing that Graeson allowed the others to command him. In truth, those commands were beneath him.
Remind them who you are,the beast hummed inside of him.
“Gray.”
Graeson blinked, snapping his head in the direction of the voice.
Dani jerked back, her eyes widening. Then, she steeled her gaze, her shoulders pushing back and the muscles in her arm straining as she struggled to maintain her firm grip around his arm.
Of all people, she should have known better than to step in his way when he was in this state. Dani, however, no longer cared about her well-being.
Her stare was solid, firm, her grip even tighter. “She’s gone. Let her go.”
Dani’s words struck a chord inside of him.
Kalisandre wasn’t gone; Fynn was. Graeson could still help her; he could still save her. There was still time. Time he hadn’t had to save Fynn.
He knew what Dani wanted him to do—what heshoulddo. However, what heshoulddo versus what heneededto do were two vastly different things.
The wedding was coming, and Graeson shouldn’t have been surprised. After all, Kalisandre had warned him, hadn’t she? She had told him what mattered to her: power. A throne he could not give her, but Graeson could give her so much more.
“If it was Fynn, would you let him go?”
Dani’s cold green eyes narrowed as she pointed at him, her lip curling into a snarl. “Don’t—don’t do that.”
His heart ricocheted against his rib cage as they stared at each other. He knew he shouldn’t have said it. He didn’t need to see her flinch at the sound of her husband’s name to know that it hurt her.
Buthewas hurt, too.
Every day that went by, Graeson felt lost. Before Kalisandre had come back into his life, he had a goal. He had a purpose: to find her, to save her.
But to see her walk away? To see her give herself up so easily to them—to the enemy? Graeson didn’t know what to make of that.
All he knew was that when he saw the fire reflected in Kalisandre’s eyes and the darkness hidden beneath the flames, he knew the woman who stared back wasn’t the same woman he saw at the cavern. The same woman who shook beneath the stone feet of the gods. Or the woman whose body trembled as she met her mother for the second time. Or when she collapsed against him as Esmeray showed her the truth. Those vulnerable moments were not the reason why he cared for her. They weren’t why his whole being was electrified around her. She was his, and he was hers. And he would do whatever it took to get her back. He had made a promise long ago, even if he had to pry her from Domitius’ cold body.
