Page 92 of The Crown's Shadow


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It was as if the command ran through her veins and tugged on her muscles. His words called to her, slithering their way into her blood and into her mind, shaping her will, bending it to his.

It wasn’t just her mind playing tricks on her. It was her eyes, too. Because when she opened them, bright silver irises stared down at her.

When she spoke, his name was no more than a breath on her lips. “Graeson?”

Graeson was in her room.

In her bed.

In Frenzia.

“What are you doing here?” Kallie’s gaze narrowed as warning signals spiked through her nervous system. “How . . .”

“How what?” Graeson asked.

The corner of his lip flicked up, his eyes alit with mischief. The moon’s beams bounced against his midnight black hair, shiny and wild. His fingers dug into his hair, his hand propping him up on his side. Graeson looked the same as the night when the world was shut out, when their identities were hidden behind masks, secrets, and lies. When everything was simple.

And before everything had crumbled to ash in her hands.

“How are you here?” Kallie asked, her gaze dancing across his face. There could only be one reason. One reason he would be here.

She swept a hand beneath her pillow, and her heart pounded against her chest as she felt nothing beneath it. Nothing but silk sheets beneath her palm.

Her dagger was gone.

“Looking for this, little mouse?” Dangling between Graeson’s fingers, her dagger swung in the air like a pendulum, rocking back and forth.

“Give it back,” she growled, reaching for it.

But Graeson was faster than her. He rolled her over, forcing Kallie onto her back with a quick maneuver of his legs. With one hand, he locked her wrists above her head. “I don’t think so.”

“Plan to kill me with my own blade?” Kallie wiggled beneath his body weight. “I didn’t think that was your style, Gray.”

His grip on her wrists tightened. His thighs pressed against hers, his legs wrapping around hers, keeping her in place and preventing her from kicking him off.

“Is that what you think?” Graeson asked, staring at her, brows drawn together. “That I’m here to kill you?”

“Of course!” Kallie shrieked. She tried to twist her hands out of his hold, but Graeson’s grip remained steady. “Why else would you be here?”

“You tell me, Princess.” He smirked down at her, his hair falling down his face. His features were cast in darkness, yet his silver eyes beamed. “It’s your dream.”

Kallie froze. “This isn’t real?”

The corner of his mouth quipped upward. “Would my answer change your reaction?”

Kallie scanned his face, searching for an answer that wasn’t there. Per usual, Graeson kept everything hidden behind a calm demeanor. Even in her dreams, it seemed.

Kallie looked away, biting the inside of her cheek. The pain of the bite spiraled through her body. She used that pain as a focal point, pushing away the memory she had tried and failed to keep at arm’s length the past few weeks.

“Kalisandre, look at me.” Graeson’s fingers brushed her chin, tipping her head up. “It does not matter if this is real or not. I do not care if this moment is a figment of our imaginations. I do not even care if we will forget about it come morning like the rest of our dreams.” His thumb slid across her chin. “What matters is that you are safe. What matters is that you are happy.”

Beneath Graeson’s earnest gaze, Kallie remained silent, unable to say anything. She couldn’t admit the truth. She didn’t even know what the truth was.

“Are you happy, Kalisandre?”

She huffed.

“Do not dismiss your happiness, Princess.”

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