10. Grier
Grier
Ilead her through the narrow servants’ corridor that’s tucked away in the lower southern section where nobles rarely venture.
“This one’s yours,” I say, pushing it open and stepping aside. The room is small but clean, with a bed, a washroom, a trunk, and a single window overlooking the gardens.
Gemma steps inside and sets her pack on the bed.
She goes straight to the window and tests the latch, then checks the curtains, drawing them closed and adjusting them until the sightline disappears.
She maps exits like breathing. It’s how she’s saved countless twins from the King’s grasp, gotten them out of warehouses, noble cellars, and places I’ll never know about.
“I don’t need servants coming in,” she says without looking at me. “They can leave fresh linens outside the door.”
“That can be arranged,” I say. Of course, she’s already planning.
She turns, and those distinctive eyes hit like a blade. I don’t give her time to start directing the day.
“You drew too much attention in the yard. Enough to pull in the King. Enough to have a prince step in for you.” I move in closer, not threatening, just close enough to shut down whatever she was about to say. “You didn’t stumble into Rye’s attention; you claimed it.”
She doesn’t flinch. If anything, she goes still, her expression closing off, clearly deciding it’s not worth answering. I gesture toward the corridor.
“I’ll show you the grounds, common areas only, until things cool down.”
“Lead the way,” she says and falls into step beside me like we’re just two professionals doing our jobs. As if what I just said didn’t change everything between us.
“The servants’ quarters run the length of this wing. Kitchens are at the western end, storage to the east.” I keep my voice neutral. “Training yards are accessed through the eastern exit.”
We emerge into the afternoon sun, the gardens opening out before us with wide paths, manicured greenery, and nobles strolling as if nothing exists beyond the hedgerows.
I catch her looking at me with those familiar eyes. I’ve trained myself not to linger on them. Not to feel it when they land on me like this.
The unease from this morning resurfaces. I can’t shake the way Rye looked at her, the way his attention locked in, the way he moved toward her without thinking.
Her allowing proximity like that isn’t an accident. It’s a choice, and it tells me everything I need to know about how she intends to survive this place. I turn toward her, already forming the warning to be careful and keep her distance.
“Hi, Grier.”
Rosie’s voice reaches me before I can speak, and I turn to find her approaching along the garden path with a pleasant smile. I feel the warning lodged in my throat.
She turns her gaze to Gemma. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Rosalie.”
Rosie doesn’t miss a beat. There’s no hesitation, no sign this isn’t the first time they’ve met or that she’s been part of our planning from the start. Rosie links her arm through Gemma’s, and they fall into easy conversation.
Gemma walks beside her, composed and contained, but the edge is still there. I catch what they’re quietly talking about: her childhood. I slow without meaning to. I’ve never heard her talk about her past, not once.
“Finn was terrified of the dark until he was, like, twelve,” Gemma says. “Used to make me check under his bed for Savages. Every single night.”
Rosie laughs. “Finn, who can disarm three guards at once?”
“That Finn.” Gemma’s grin is wicked. “He was terrified of what might be lurking under his bed.”
“What did you do?”
“Told him they were under there, obviously. He’d run straight to our mom’s bed.”
Rosie’s laughter pushes Gemma on.
“My mom used to tell us fairy tales to calm him down. Of a world where water moved in endless spirals around chains of floating islands, where people could bend the sea itself. Cities carved into mountains so high the sky itself danced with light. About a place where islands of fire rose from the ocean itself.”
She shakes her head, half-smiling. “Finn always wanted to see the cities in the clouds. I wanted to see the lagoons that glowed under the moon.”
Rosie’s laughter falters, and her expression shifts, like the story landed somewhere unexpected. Gemma doesn’t notice. She’s still half-lost in the memory.
Footsteps crunch ahead, too even and too deliberate. Has to be nobles; they always walk like the ground belongs to them. I suppose it does. Once they’re awakened, the land answers them when they ask.
Blue and silver emerge through the hedges. The Davriks.
Bastion walks at the front, wearing authority like it’s already been granted. Beaumont follows with Belinda between them, guarded like the investment she is. Bastion’s gaze lands on me first.
“Commander,” he says easily.
“Bastion,” I reply.
Belinda turns to Gemma with the practiced smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.
“Gemma, right?” she says. “We heard about this morning. Quite impressive, from what they’re saying.”
She sounds curious in the way nobles are when they’re already counting advantages or adversaries.
“Where did you study?” The question sounds light, but it’s not.
Gemma doesn’t miss a beat. “Here and there.”
Beaumont hums like that confirms something for him.
“Unconventional,” Bastion says. “But effective, it seems.”
His attention lingers a moment too long, settling on the parts of her that don’t belong to this place. My hand flexes at my side before I catch it. I shift half a step closer, close enough to remind them she’s not unattended.
“With the trials approaching, proper preparation is so critical. It would be a shame to keep that kind of skill limited to just the royal sparring sessions,” Beaumont adds.
“Precisely.” Bastion’s smile is easy, like we’re all in agreement. “Which is why we thought, since we’ll all be in the trials together, we might train alongside the princes.” He gestures toward the training yards.
Bastion doesn’t look to me for permission. The decision was made before they walked over.
“I’ll have my steward coordinate with the swordmaster,” he adds easily. “No need to burden you with the logistics, Commander.”
Beaumont’s eyes flick to me, not with deference, but like he’s measuring exactly how far my authority reaches.