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“I know enough,” he growled.

“Why do you even care what I think?”

His gaze bounced across her face, his brows knitting together. “Have you let that man twist your mind so much that you don’t even care about your own worth? I care what you think because it matters. Becauseyoumatter.”

Her laugh came out strangled.

“Do not dismiss me when I say that you matter. You have surrounded yourself with men who do not respect you, who do not believe you are capable of great things. Rian only cares about your title. Domitius only cares about your—”

“Do not speak about my father.” Kallie tugged at her arm, but his calloused fingers remained firm around her smooth skin, his grip unshakable.

“Have you forgotten what he did to you? What he did to Pontia? What he did to your birth father and your brother?”

“I—” The words became a knot stuck in her throat, and no matter how much she tried, she could not untangle them.

“He’s using you.”

“Heneedsme.”

“If he needs you, why are you letting him sell you off to the highest bidder?”

Kallie snarled. “Ichoseto come here. But that still does not explain why you are here.”

For once, Graeson didn’t have an answer ready. He stumbled. “Do you not see what you are doing to me? What you have done to me? You are all I think about. For years, for decades, I have fought for you. My thoughts, my goals—”

“Then perhaps,” she hissed, interrupting, for she had heard enough, “it is time you acquire a new goal,Gray.”

Graeson tipped his head down an inch, glowering. “That is not possible, and you know that.”

“Do I?” Kallie ripped her arm from his grasp, rage fueling her. Screw the throat, she’d just stab him in the heart. “And what possible reason could that be? Because from my perspective, the only person here who stands to gain something from this conversation is you.”

Pain spiked her jaw, but she didn’t dare show it. Graeson had not earned her pain, nor had he earned her truth.

He once said love was worth the fight, worth the risk. But why? No one ever fought for anything if they didn’t stand to gain something.

Kallie had always felt like something was off, as if something was missing. Her entire life, she had strived for more. More power, more control, more freedom. The reason she even stood in this ghost of a castle was because she sought the Frenzian crown. Kallie knew her own motives but was still ignorant of Graeson’s.

“What’s in it for you?”

Graeson’s mouth parted then closed. Once, twice. And that look—his head tilting to the side, deep wrinkles forming in the center of his forehead, silver eyes darkening as confusion then realization formed—was answer enough.

Kallie turned on her heel, but Graeson’s hand found her wrist yet again.

She sucked in a breath, his coarse fingers reminding her of a different time. But she wiped the memory from her mind when she faced him again. “Either let go of me,” Kallie whispered, the words cold on her tongue, “or tell me the truth,”

A moment passed. It was a moment that seemed to span time. A moment that suggested that Kallie was wasting her time waiting for an answer from Graeson. Because when had the Pontian ever been upfront with her? Ever since she had known him, he had evaded the truth.

They were too similar in that way, she supposed. They avoided the truth as if it were quicksand, one wrong word, and they would sink.

“You don’t get it at all,” Graeson said. “Youconsumeme, Kalisandre. Heart and soul. You could carve my heart out, and I would let you.”

Kallie looked up at the ceiling, her nails biting into her palm. She should force him aside. She should scream for help. But instead, she asked, “Butwhy, Graeson?”

“What do you mean ‘why?’”

Kallie stepped forward and instantly regretted the movement when the faint note of citrus hidden behind the woodsy odor became more prominent. She would not retreat, not now.

The left side of her lip curled, her gaze sliding up his body as two of her fingers scaled his chest. As her nails scraped against his skin, right where the purple vein throbbed, Graeson inhaled.