Page 54

Immediately, Fletcher’s words crawled to the front of my mind. Your blood can be addictive, even to Elizians. He hadn’t explained the repercussions of someone being addicted to my blood, but I could make an educated guess.

Graff growled at her just as I’d imagine Fletcher would. “Don’t get used to it.”

She rolled her eyes as her head fell back briefly. “Geez, sorry. I’m just trying to enjoy the experience. It’s not like I’ll ever get to use royal magic again.”

Graff’s pink eyes narrowed. “And you never—”

“Focus,” Mirin snapped.

Rosaanne concentrated on the glass again. It cracked down the center, spidering toward the edges and crumbling in her hand. Shards of glass fell onto the rising pile near her crisscrossed feet from her attempts at making it indestructible. “Another tile please.”

Graff’s tile shattered too. “Dammit.” He huffed and held out his hand. “Me too.”

Mirin handed them another tile .

“We’ve been at this for over an hour,” Graff complained before he looked at me as if I were in charge of calling it a day.

“Keep trying,” Mirin commanded. “Think about wanting to keep that glass intact.”

“I got it!” Rosaanne said, holding up her square in the air in triumph.

Mirin looked at it, aimed, and fired his lavender magic. The glass exploded and shards rained down in her unruly hair. She grunted in frustration. “Never mind.” She held out a hand for another tile as she shook her head and let glass fall over the carpet.

“Last three,” Mirin announced as he handed one to each of them. “Come on. You guys can do this.”

“If we can’t do it, what makes you think non-Elizians who have never wielded magic know how to do this?” Graff argued.

I shrugged. “I don’t know. Practice? Time? Fletcher is risking everything pretending to be part of the Cidris. We have to try our best like he is.”

Graff sat up straight in alert as if he had thought of something important. His eyes slid to mine with judgement and anger. “Ripley. What if they have an Elizian who’s working with them—who has access to this incredibly rare ability. To a bond that might give him an advantage.”

The three of them stared at me. I knew exactly what they were insinuating.

“No,” I gritted out, fists clenching. “Fletcher is not working with them.” I’d already been through this trauma, and I had since resolved it. I did not want the floodgates opening again. “He wouldn’t be helping us otherwise.”

“For the show of it—to get access to your blood willingly. Yeah, he might,” Graff added.

“He’s not.”

“He might.”

“He wouldn’t,” Rosaanne defended, standing up abruptly, more glass raining down from her hair and over Graff.

I, too, stood in solidarity with Rosaanne. “Fletcher would never use me. He’s bonded to me. And he has pledged to me.”

Graff shook his head in pity. “You naive, little girl.”

I furrowed my brows, wondering what the hell that meant. It was proven time and time again that I was naive, and he knew it would make my skin crawl because he had taken advantage of that part of me already once before .

“Hey!” Mirin snapped. “Do not insult our princess.”

“It’s the truth.” Graff’s thick muscles tensed as his face reddened, heat gathering in the room with his temper. “What’s an insult, to all of Elizy, is that she is with Darkly . Darkly , Mirin! Fletcher stole your dead parents’ wedding crowns you inherited. Remember that?”

The comment smacked my chest in ways I wish it hadn’t. Fletcher had prepared me for this. For hearing things he had done that he was not proud of.

“How can you not be bothered by this?” Graff continued.

“Because I have respect for my princess!” Mirin stood tall beside me, his loose curls tumbling over his dark brows and ginger eyes. “And I have respect for Fletcher.”

The statement burrowed itself into my heart, resting safely there with trust and acceptance.

Graff scoffed and Rosaanne crossed her arms as if about to make a snippy comment back to Graff.

“How is that fucking possible?” Graff expressed, standing now, taller than everyone.

“Because he saved Ripley’s life and he saved mine too. And he’s about to save all of Elizy. ”

Graff’s eyes turned to Rosaanne. “And what about you? Huh? He fucked you then told you he was in love with another woman,” he blurted and gestured to me. “I held you while you cried for weeks.”

“Shut up, Graff!” she yelled, taking a hard step forward with a fierce blush taking over her cheeks.

“What’d he do to you?” I asked with much more calm than the raging maelstrom of emotions wanted. “What’d he do to make you hate him so much?”

“He—” he stopped himself. “What he’s done to me is not of importance.” He waved a hand and sat back down on the ground in front of his pile of pulverized glass.

“Obviously it is. Because the only person here who has a problem with him is you.”

“He’s made my life hell, Ripley. He stole from me, he’s fucking the woman I love, and he works for the Cidris . What more do I have to say?” His brows raised, daring me to challenge him. “How about him injuring your other two suitors? How about all the threats he’s made to me?”

“Enough,” Mirin snapped.

“No! It’s not enough, because she still has complete faith in him,” Graff said, rising to his feet again.

“We all know who he is and what he’s capable of.

If anyone has a vendetta against Elizy, it’s him.

If someone is going to fuck up this mission, it’s Darkly.

I’m sorry to say it, Ripley. Fletcher is fooling you.

He is working for the Cidris! And you’re inadvertently helping him out. ”

The three of us remained silent in solidarity over defending Fletcher. We glared at Graff like a pack of wolves ready to rip his head off.

“Fine.” He made a face. “Don’t consider the obvious. We’ll just keep breaking tiles senselessly instead of interrogating the one person who already knows how to do this.”

Mirin cleared his throat, his voice back to its normal calm. “Knock it off, Graff, and focus.”

He stared us down, and I was officially over it. I stepped forward. “If we can’t trust each other, this plan fails, and we are all in danger. You have no choice but to trust Fletcher. And as your future queen, I suggest you follow my lead.”

Graff pressed his lips, glaring dangerously sharp at me, then held out an open palm to Mirin. “Tile.”