Chapter 5
GRAESON
Graeson stormed through the doors, and the paintings on the walls shuddered. "You will not use her as a weapon. We are not him," he seethed, chest heaving as he scanned the room.
His best friends, the woman he loved, and the council of a foreign kingdom all stared back at him, aghast. Graeson should have known something was amiss the minute Kalisandre had been late.
She was never late when it came to spending time with Nyrri.
When the bell tolled, he ran as fast as he could, hoping he wasn’t too late.
Once he had reached the council room, Loralaine’s regal voice seeped through the cracks of the closed doors, halting Graeson in his pursuit.
The former queen spoke of bloodshed and battles, of fear and death.
Then, when he heard Terin speak to Kallie and heard her response, fear wrapped around Graeson’s throat like a python, strangling him tighter and tighter with every word that passed.
He burst through the room, his feet propelling him. He would not lose her. Not again.
"Ha!" Ellie shouted, calling Graeson’s attention momentarily. "I told you!"
Medenia groaned and sunk into her chair. A crystal bracelet slid across the table, and Ellie snatched it, smiling victoriously.
Graeson barely gave their exchange a second thought before glaring at the prince.
Terin knew the type of person his sister was, knew the guilt she harbored.
Kalisandre would never see sacrificing her safety as a choice but a necessity.
If there was something she could do to right her wrongs, she would do it—no matter the danger it put her in.
"Gray, you have to understand," Terin begged, standing from his chair. He held up his hands, and Graeson nearly laughed. As if that would stop him.
Terin pressed onward. "We do not ask this of Kallie lightly. We all know how powerful her gift is. If this war happens, it will touch every inch of the seven kingdoms. Domitius will not stop until he gains control over everything and everyone."
They mean to use her, to sacrifice her, the god within hissed.
Filled with white hot rage from both him and the god, Graeson prowled forward, his lip curling into a sneer.
He sensed the tension of the guards behind him, their anxiety palpable.
The warriors around the table slipped their hands beneath the table, and the soft scratch of leather pierced his ears as they reached for their weapons.
His attention, however, was solely on Kalisandre.
She didn’t deserve to bear the weight of this war. She just escaped Domitius' grasp. If she went back to him…
"Kalisandre," Graeson pleaded, "you do not have to do it. They can’t make you."
At last, she met his gaze, and a sea of emotions swam through the array of blue hues that held him hostage. "No one is making me do anything," she said. "This is my choice. If I can stop this war by manipulating Domitius, I will do it."
Graeson’s eyes bounced across Kalisandre’s face, but all he found were the walls he had thought were finally crumbling. Instead, they were fortified once more, stronger and thicker than before. She was pushing him out, pushing him away.
A part of him cracked. He couldn’t lose her; he wouldn’t.
Graeson didn’t care if she accepted the bond or not.
Because if she listened to the others, if she actually tried to manipulate Domitius, he feared what the king would do to her.
Not because Kalisandre could not handle herself, but because Domitius was always several steps ahead.
He had already tried to destroy her mind. Would he destroy her soul next?
Every muscle twitched as he struggled to contain himself. This was what she wanted, though. How could he deny her that choice? It was simple: he couldn’t.
"What’s the plan then?" he demanded. If he couldn’t stop her, he would at least make sure they weren’t sending her on a fool’s errand.
"There is no plan, is there?" Graeson asked when he was met with silence. "Were you going to send her straight into the bull’s den, let her see if she could survive with no support and no way home? What if she were to get caught?"
"If you only gave us a moment," Terin interjected, "we would—"
Graeson’s anger burned bright. "Why am I surprised?
Whenever it comes to her life and well-being, none of you stop to think about the consequences.
" He narrowed his gaze at every person in the room, letting them see his anger, letting them feel his brewing wrath. "You didn’t stop to think when you took her and ripped her mind apart. You didn’t think about the consequences then, so why would you now? "
Terin flinched, guilt forcing him back into his seat.
"She turned out fine, didn’t she?" Ellie retorted, folding her arms over her chest.
He looked to Medenia, his last hope, but she averted her gaze, her eyes dropping to her bare wrist.
Graeson couldn’t believe them. While he shouldn’t have been entirely surprised, he would have thought the time they spent with Kalisandre would have changed their opinion of her, made them see her worth.
He had thought Ellie and Medenia had befriended her, yet both defended this path?
Did neither woman see the problem with it?
The moment Domitius got his hands on Kalisandre, he would kill her.
She was a loose end, a risk he would not let go again.
"This is different!" Graeson yelled, hoping they would hear him. "It’s Domitius. We would be fools to run in there haphazardly."
"Who said anything about we?" Kalisandre shot back. She pointed at her chest. "I started this war; I will end it."
Normally, Kalisandre’s stubbornness was one of the qualities he admired most about her. But did she not value her life at all? Did she truly wish to throw it all away?
"He’s dangerous," Graeson said, digging his fingers through his hair.
"I know that! By the gods, I know that better than most, Graeson. But what choice do I have?"
Fear consumed him as he thought of Kalisandre risking her life, unprepared and outmaneuvered. He didn’t want to take her choice away; he never did. But he couldn’t willingly let her throw her life away either. There had to be another way. He could—
"As much as I hate to say it, Graeson might have a point. You haven’t even used your ability since you’ve been here, have you?" Medenia inquired.
Graeson sighed in relief. Finally, he thought. Someone understood.
Kalisandre tipped her chin up, determined. "I will find a way."
"You won’t even get close to him. You won’t be able—"
A fist slammed against the table, cutting him off. "You do not get to tell her what she can or cannot do, Graeson!"
He snapped his head in Dani’s direction. "Are you afraid that if I talk some sense into her, she won’t go along with whatever mad plan you are creating?"
He looked at the Queen next. She sat silently at the head of the table, her chin resting atop her hands as if this was some performance at a dinner. "She is not a weapon you get to use," he repeated.
A hand gripped Graeson’s arm. Despite the anger boiling over, the gentle but firm touch forced him to drag his gaze away from Cetia. Kalisandre stood before him, her brilliant blue eyes staring up at him, pleading and breaking his heart simultaneously.
"I have always been a weapon," she said. "It’s what I was raised to be, but at least this time it’s my choice for how I am to be used."
Her eyes glazed over. Quickly, Kalisandre blinked away the tears before anyone could notice them. But Graeson had. He had noticed them right away.
She was afraid, and he loathed it. He hated that they had put her in this position and made her believe she needed to be a martyr.
"Kal—"
Kalisandre shook her head, cutting him off. Her eyes welled up with tears, and she fought them off as much as she could. "I will not let people continue to sacrifice themselves for me."
He heard the words she didn’t say aloud: I am not worth their sacrifice.
To him, though, she was worth every sacrifice, every risk.
But him saying that would not change her mind.
Still, he wondered if Kalisandre knew how much she was loved—and not the sort of infatuation two young lovers shared.
One that came purely from the heart, from a place of care.
Did she recognize that sort of love when it was present?
Because if she could, how did she not know she was worth every sacrifice? That she deserved to be protected, too?
Lately, it seemed she feared love more than anything else, as if she felt she was unworthy of it.
That might have been one reason she denied accepting the soul bond.
It was probably in part why she still struggled to get close to Terin, despite her brother’s attempts.
She had even kept up her walls with Medenia, whom she had found an easy kinship with after the first few weeks.
However, there were times when she had let her walls down—in the forest when Graeson had almost lost himself, or when he had found her in the bathtub after Dani had yelled at her.
Or when she would lie on the grass beside Nyrri as they watched the clouds drift by the towering spires of the castle.
Graeson savored those moments as if they would be his last.
He wanted to show her what true love felt like, what genuine friendship was.
He understood then how the soul bond must have complicated things.
It made their relationship muddy, something the fates had decided rather than something they nurtured.
A relationship wasn’t something that was bought or created because of the blood two people shared.
Friendships grew. It blossomed as two people became closer and discovered their true selves.
It flourished when two people finally allowed themselves to be vulnerable.
Graeson wanted to show Kalisandre what that felt like more than anything else.
But how could he if she went down this path?
He wished he could read her mind like Fynn could. As their gazes remained locked, a million thoughts must have been racing across her mind. But before Graeson could even identify one, Kalisandre looked past him.
"I’ll manipulate him, but on one condition," she said.
"Go on," Cetia said.
"We make a trade."
"A trade?" Dani asked, incredulous. "What could Domitius have that he would willingly give up?"
Kalisandre’s gaze flicked back to Graeson, and a chill ran down his spine, drawing his brows together. He took a step backward as if sensing the oncoming pain, yet there was no way he could prepare for what was to come. Kalisandre’s lips moved, but all his senses seemed to stop working.
He wasn’t sure if the room had gone completely silent or not, for all he could hear was his heartbeat in his lungs. He grabbed onto the nearest item—a person, a chair, the wall, he didn’t know or care—because the two words that finally struck him in the chest nearly toppled him over.
"Your mother."