Page 9 of Daggermouth

“Everything’s always wrong.” Greyson straightened, folding his arms. “Today it’s only more so.”

Callum waited, letting the silence thicken. He always did this, forced Greyson to fill the void, to name the thing that clawed at him.

Greyson looked away, eyes settling on the dance floor below through the one-way glass walls. “I hesitated, Cal. At the execution yesterday.”

Callum stilled for only a breath, then lifted his glass to the slit in his mask again, taking another swig as the rings on his right hand clinked against the crystal. “I saw.”

Greyson felt the anger again, rising hot beneath the cold. “She begged.Begged. It wasn’t dignified. But it was—” He couldn’t finish it, so he let the silence say the rest.

Callum stood, smoothing his jacket with both hands. He closed the gap between them in four strides and rested a hand on Greyson’s shoulder. The gesture would’ve been dangerous outside the walls of this club where Veyra eyes could construe it as weakness. Here, it was necessary. Their masks hid nothing from each other, not really.

“You do the best you can,” Callum said. “You always do.”

Greyson looked at him. “That’s nottrue.”

“You’re not your father, Grey. No matter how many times he tries to carve himself into you.” Callum squeezed, gentle but immovable. “You’re better than him. You still have a heart.”

The words should’ve comforted, but instead they scraped him raw. “If I’m so much better, why did I put a bullet in that man’s head? Why have I put a bullet in hundreds of rebels’ heads?”

Callum shrugged. “Because you’re not a fucking idiot. You still have survival instincts. If you didn’t, you’d both be dead. Maybe that’s not enough. But it’s something.”

Greyson exhaled a slow, shaky breath. “He’s arranging a Vow. Moraine Daunt.”

Callum whistled, low and sympathetic. “That’squitethe match. They’re not even pretending, are they?”

Greyson shook his head. “He wants to make an example. Show the city I’m loyal. If I’m married off tothatfamily, there’s no room for rumor.”

Callum took his hand from Greyson’s shoulder and tapped his ring against the desk’s surface once. “They’re fucking right about that. Are you gonna do it?”

“I don’t have a choice.” Greyson didn’t say the next part. That he was both afraid that he would, and that he wouldn’t.

Callum eyed him, searching. “Why did you really hesitate, Grey?”

Greyson didn’t answer at first. The memory of the woman’s scream hung in his mind, a ghost that refused to be exorcised.

“Because,” he started, “her only crime was falling in love with a man from the Boundary.” He surprised himself with his honesty. “And though I cannot fathom being willing to die for such a feeble emotion, I thought maybe, if I let her go, it would . . . balance something. That it would start to heal the hurt my family has caused.”

Callum shook his head. “Balance does not exist in New Found Haven. And it doesn’t matter whether it was by your hand, or the Veyra, she was never making it off that platform alive.”

Greyson nodded. “I know.”

“Besides,” Callum started again, his voice lighter now. “Love has brought down empires, and your father knows it.”

Greyson snorted. “What do you know about love?”

“Nothing.” Callum chuckled. “I only know of lust, and I would do unspeakable things in the name of lust. So, I can only imagine that if I found love, I’d also be willing to die for it.”

Greyson smiled then, shaking his head but saying nothing.

“Do you not love me, brother? Would you not die for me like I would die for you?” Callum added, with mock offense.

Greyson downed the remainder of his drink. “I’d kill for you without question, but dying for you . . . that’s debatable.”

A full-bodied laugh flowed from under Callum’s mask as he sat back down at his desk and propped his polished boots onto the surface. “You may still have a heart, but you lack emotion.”

Greyson refilled his glass before falling into the chair across from him.

“You have enough emotion for the both of us.” Greyson teased as he swirled the liquid in his tumbler.