Page 76 of Fall of Ruin and Wrath

Taking his lack of answer as a good enough response, I gave a quick and terrible curtsy. “Good night, Your Grace.”

He didn’t correct my use of the honorific. He was still quiet, watching me with an expression I couldn’t quite make out. Passing him, I made it to the door of the antechamber.

“Stay.”

I whipped toward him. “Excuse me?”

“Stay,” he repeated, his grip on the glass tightening. “Stay the night with me.”

I opened my mouth, but I found no words. He wanted me to stay? The night with him? I glanced at the bed, stomach clenching and dropping at the same time.

“To sleep,” he added, and my attention swung back to him. My eyes had widened slightly. Cracks had formed in the glass he held. Not deep enough to spill the drink, but I could see the fragile spiderweb-like lines racing throughout the glass. “That is all,na’laa.”

My mind went in two vastly different directions as I stared at him. One part of me couldn’t even believe he was asking for such a thing, because why in the five realms would he want to just sleep with me? The other part of me was foolishly wondering what it was like to sleep beside another who wasn’t Grady, and thinking about that caused the skipping of my breath to repeat itself in my chest and stomach.

And that . . . that was unacceptable for various reasons.

“That I cannot do,” I said.

His head cocked. “Cannot or will not?”

There was a difference between the two. “Cannot” wasn’t a choice. “Will not” was. The problem was I didn’t know which it was.

“Both,” I admitted, shaken. “Good night.”

I didn’t wait. Turning, I left the bedchamber and reached the main door. I turned the handle. It didn’t budge. Frowning, I glanced up, seeing that it was unlocked. What the— ?Prince Thorne.He was stopping me from opening the door. I stiffened, feeling his intense stare on my back, and for a wild moment, a wicked thrill went through me, leaving me breathless. The idea that he’d stopped me sent a hot, tight shiver through me.

I didn’t want him to let me go.

That damnable feeling— the one of belonging with him— surged through me, and dear gods, there truly was something wrong with me.

My hands flattened against the wood. In my chest, my heart raced. Then the door cracked open beneath my palms. He was letting me go. Something akin to . . . to disappointment flashed through me, leaving me even more confused, with him— with myself.

“All right, I’m officially . . . flabbergasted.” The soft glow from the lamp near the bed I sat upon lit Grady’s profile. He sat on the edge of my bed, his sword resting against the chest at the foot of the bed, more relaxed after most of his anger at learning that the special guest hadn’t been expecting me had passed.

“Flabbergasted?”

“Dumbfounded and every other unnecessary adjective you can think of. The Prince of Vytrus came to discuss the Iron Knights? Who wouldn’t be surprised.” Grady dragged a hand over his face. “And you’re sure he’s not going to say something to the Baron about you telling him the truth?”

“I’m pretty sure.” I tipped my head back. It was late, about an hour after I’d left Prince Thorne’s chambers. I’d just finished telling Grady what had happened— well, noteverything.I didn’t want to traumatize him with unnecessary details. “But I can’t know for sure since I can’t read him. I tried several times to get inside his head, but I couldn’t.”

He scratched at the faint growth of hair along his cheek. “You have to tell the Baron that you got the information at least partly that way, though. If he thinks the Prince simply told you because you asked, he’s not going to believe you.”

“I know.” Which meant I really hoped Prince Thorne held to what he said, and that he wouldn’t speak a word of it.

Tugging the edges of the black robe—myrobe, one made of comfortable cotton that wasn’t transparent— around me, I smothered a yawn as silence filled the large, fairly empty chamber.

There wasn’t much to the immaculate space. A wardrobe. The bed. A settee near the terrace doors. A nightstand and chest. The antechamber, though, was outfitted with more than the necessities— a deep-seated settee and chairs arranged upon a thick plush rug of ivory chenille, a small dining table and credenza made of white oak, and various odds and ends the Baron had gifted over the years. The space was beautiful, well maintained, and leagues above any other place I’d have ever slept in, but it wasn’t home.

I wanted it to feel like that.

I’d yet to know what that even felt like, but I thought it would be a lot like what I felt when I was in the gardens, my fingers sunk deep in the soil, and my mind quiet. There was a sense of belonging there. Peace.

“You were with this prince for a while.” Grady tentatively broached what he’d yet to bring up.

My toes curled against the sheet. “Not that long.”

“Long enough.”