Page 114 of A Court of Thralls and Thorns

“What do you want?” I asked, crossing my arms.

“Your father just left the castle.”

“I know. He summoned me,” I said tightly.

Zander’s gaze sharpened. “Who is his contact?”

“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “And if you’re asking me to spy on him, you’re too late. He already asked the same thing of me.” I paused, jaw tightening. “When I refused, he disowned me.”

Zander’s expression softened, but only slightly. “I didn’t know that.”

“Well, now you do.” My voice hardened. “I won’t be anyone’s pawn. Not his, not yours.”

“This isn’t about you, Rebec.” His voice dropped low, almost a growl. “He’s playing with forces he doesn’t understand. If he keeps pushing, people are going to die.”

“Then you’d better stop him,” I said, stepping back toward the door. “But don’t expect me to betray him to do it.”

I turned the knob, but Zander’s hand shot out, catching my arm. His grip wasn’t painful, but it was firm.

“If he comes back with blood on his hands...” Zander’s voice was low, dangerous. “You’ll have to decide where your loyalties really lie.”

“I already have,” I snapped, jerking free.

Zander’s eyes held mine, his gaze sharp but not unkind. The tension between us was a tangled knot—tight and suffocating.

Zander’s gaze sharpened, like he was trying to read something behind my eyes—a skill I hated because he was far too good at it.

“You actually refused him?” His tone wasn’t accusatory, but there was enough doubt in it to make my temper flare.

“Yes,” I bit out. “I already told you he disowned me. Said I was nothing to him now.” My voice cracked at the end, and I clenched my jaw to swallow down the ache rising in my chest.

Zander’s expression softened, but it still made me uneasy. “That’s not exactly a small thing,” he said carefully.

“I didn’t do it for you,” I snapped. “Or the castle, or the crown, or whatever noble cause you’re pretending to care about. I did it because I’m tired of being manipulated. My whole life, I’ve been someone’s pawn. My father. The Order. The king. I’m done.”

“Good.” His voice was quiet. “Because if you’d said yes, I’d have been forced to kill you.”

I snorted, half from disbelief, half from the sheer audacity. “Charming.”

“I’m serious.” His gaze darkened. “Your father’s playing a dangerous game. If you’d chosen his side...”

“You think I don’t know that?” I stepped closer, voice lowering. “I told him no, Zander. He disowned me—tossed me aside like garbage. I have nothing. No family. No Order. No home.” I swallowed hard. “I know what I am. A thrall. A rider without a bond. Just another commoner you can pretend to tolerate.”

Zander’s face shifted then—the cold detachment slipping just enough for something warmer to flicker in his eyes.

“You’re wrong,” he said quietly. “You’re not just a rider. You’re Kaelith’s rider. You’ve held your own when most would’ve broken. And you’re not alone.”

I laughed bitterly. “I’m as alone as it gets.”

“You have your squad,” Zander countered. “And whether you like it or not, you have me.”

I blinked. “I don’t want your pity.”

“You think this is pity?” His voice dipped low, something dangerous curling beneath it. “You think I’ve spent all this time pushing you, watching you, because I feel sorry for you?”

“Then why?” I demanded, stepping forward until there was barely a breath between us. “Why do you care?”

His eyes held mine, the tension snapping as tight as a bowstring. “Because you’re not nothing,” he said, his voice more like a growl. “And I sure as hell won’t let you believe that you are.”