Chapter 25
GRAESON
"Again," Graeson ordered, arms crossed.
Kalisandre wiped the sweat from her brow and glared at him.
Graeson only arched a brow in challenge. Inside though, he was screaming. Their relationship—if that’s what he could call it—was fragile enough. He did not wish to further divide them, but he refused to let her face Domitius unprepared.
Plus, Kalisandre glaring at him was better than the cold shoulder she had been giving him in Tetria. Any attention she would give, he would gladly take it. His heartbeat was a frantic tattoo against his ribs at the intensity of her gaze, a gaze that felt like both a brand and a balm.
He had yet to bring up the soul bond topic, and he didn’t plan to.
She needed to focus on the task ahead. Especially since Ellie informed him around the fire that Kalisandre refused to use her gift despite Ellie’s protests.
When they woke up the next morning, Graeson insisted Kalisandre practice until it was as natural as before.
Graeson understood Kalisandre’s fear. By the gods, how many times had he refused to lean into his god-side over the years because of that same trepidation?
When the god took over, the hunger for power and death was overwhelming.
If he wasn’t careful, he could lose sight of his humanity.
But Kalisandre was stronger than he was.
"If I keep going, I will have nothing left when I see him," Kalisandre argued, her knuckles digging into her hip.
Whenever they stopped to rest, Kalisandre went to work, commanding Ellie and shaping her will.
At first, she trembled when she reached for her power.
She had nearly thrown up, her complexion turning green.
Now she stood strong, and her commands were confident.
Still, sweat slicked her forehead and dampened her hair.
The god within stirred, and Graeson dug his fingers into his biceps.
Was Graeson pushing her too much? Possibly. But it wasn’t that she couldn’t handle it. She only needed to believe she could.
"She has been successful in manipulating me so far. A break seems warranted," Ellie said, wiping the dirt from her hands.
"Having you catch a rabbit and cook it is hardly anything to cheer about," Graeson said, eyeing the warrior. Ellie was supposed to be on his side.
"Don’t forget, she also made me get on Nyrri," Ellie added—rather unhelpfully.
Graeson snorted. "You didn’t even fly."
"Whose fault is that?" Ellie whined, pointing at Nyrri, who was currently lying on her back and soaking up the sun.
Graeson struggled to hide his amusement as he recalled Ellie mounting the drakonis.
After Ellie chased Nyrri around the clearing they had stopped at, Nyrri had plopped on the ground, refusing to move.
Ellie had tried to coax her, promising Nyrri all the rabbits she could desire, but nothing would work.
And Kalisandre’s laughing probably hadn’t helped either—although it did make Graeson smile hearing it.
"Fine," Graeson grumbled, conceding. "Rest."
Kalisandre dropped to the ground and sprawled across the grass, releasing a relieved sigh.
Wiping away his smirk, Graeson crouched beside her and rested his arms over his knees. Her eyes were closed as the sun kissed her pink cheeks. Her chest rose and fell at a steady rhythm. When he leaned forward, his shadow fell over her.
She squinted up at him. "What?"
"You lied," he said, narrowing his gaze slightly.
"About what?"
"You aren’t afraid of running out of stamina. After visiting the springs, you practiced on Terin for days. I don’t think you’ve even gotten close to the end of your well." Graeson cocked his head to the side, curious. "Why do you doubt yourself?"
Her shoulders sagged, and her body sank into the ground. "It’s nothing," she mumbled, closing her eyes.
By the deep crease that formed between her brows, Graeson knew it was anything but nothing.
His fingers twitched, the desire to reach out to her buzzing at his fingertips. "Whatever it is, you can talk to me. If you’re nervous, if you’re—"
"I’m fine," Kallie interrupted. "I can handle it."
Graeson pursed his lips. He stared down at her for a second longer, hesitating. In the end, though, he pressed his palms against his thighs and stood, opting to leave her.
Maybe one day Kalisandre would learn to trust someone with the things that haunted her. Even if it wasn’t him.
Graeson cracked his neck as the darkness twisted inside him.
The god was eerily silent, but Graeson knew he was watching, observing. Waiting.
He brushed his thumb along the edge of the star. Shifting his stance, he inhaled.
Exhaling, Graeson flew the throwing star at the tree trunk. It struck the tree, and the blade drove deep into the bark.
They had stopped for the night, and he needed something to do before he combusted. He could sense the unrest within himself getting worse and worse as the hours slipped by during their journey. A series of divots were now carved into the trunk, a near mirror of the scars that marked his soul.
"Are we going to talk about it?"
He dug his hand into the bag at his side. When his fingers touched only lint at the bottom of the bag, he ground his teeth together and stalked forward. One by one, he ripped the sharp steel from the bark. The jagged edges scraped the pads of his fingers.
"You will not ignore me, Gray," Ellie demanded.
"I am not ignoring you. I am simply not answering you," Graeson said, plucking another star free from the trunk. As he returned each one to the bag, the metal tinked together.
"That is the definition of ignoring someone."
"Go bother someone else, Ellie."
"Why are you being so sour? Is it about the plan?"
Their plan, while not ideal, was fine. If Domitius followed the rules.
According to the agreement they had made, both parties promised not to bring an army.
Graeson, however, didn’t trust Domitius within an inch of his life.
The king was not foolish; he would bring soldiers with him, hidden or not.
When Graeson raised this issue, Ellie waved his concern away, claiming Graeson could handle the army if it came to that.
Graeson might have experienced less than favorable odds before, but he was not happy about taking that risk. There was too much at stake. If he had thought ahead and asked Sylvia for some of their explosives, then maybe they could have evened the odds.
Kalisandre, on the other hand, wanted bloodshed to be a last resort. She planned to hand herself over to Domitius once Lysanthia was with Graeson. Then, she would manipulate the king and whomever he brought with him.
Graeson trusted Kalisandre would be strong enough to do her part. If on the off chance she failed, they would be there, weapons ready.
It wasn’t a perfect plan, but it was all they had. If it meant stopping this war, saving his mother, and freeing Kalisandre from the guilt she carried, then he would do whatever he could to ensure they were successful.
"No," he said, pulling the last star from the tree. He returned to the line he had drawn in the dirt with his boot a few dozen yards away from his target. "Kalisandre is strong enough. She always has been."
"Then what—" Ellie cut herself off and groaned. "If I had known that I was going to be in the middle of a couple’s quarrel, then I would have stayed with Medenia and Ophelia."
"There is no couple’s quarrel."
"Oh, really? Then what do you wish to call it? A couple’s spat?" Ellie asked. "Can’t you two make up and kiss already—or whatever it is that couples do?"
Graeson snorted. "I do not think she would appreciate that."
"Why not?"
"First, we are not a couple," Graeson clarified. "Second, before you snuck off in the middle of the night, she made it very clear she did not wish to be one ever."
"Aren’t you two soul bonds?"
Graeson grabbed a star and spun it between his fingers. He rubbed the flat part of the star with his thumb. "Yes."
"Then does that not make you a couple?"
He tilted his head back. "No."
Ellie waved her hand flippantly. "Then apologize for whatever you did and profess your love to her."
Graeson eyed the tree. He took several steps back, then aimed. The jagged point drove straight into the bark and wobbled. It landed right in the center of the carvings.
"I already did."
"And what? She ignored you?" Ellie asked.
He cleared his throat. "She bandaged me up and then refused to talk about it."
Ellie grew silent, and for a second, Graeson thought she had left. But when he looked over his shoulder, she was still standing there, mouth agape.
A breeze swept through the forest, rustling the leaves. Somewhere nearby, a critter sprinted behind the brush, twigs snapping in its wake.
"I’m sorry. I’m having a hard time understanding. You might have broken me. You apologized for…"
"For making her believe I didn’t have faith in her," Graeson finished.
"And she wrapped the wound you received after you made the dumb decision to fly across the kingdoms to help her?"
The god peered out of his cell, silently observing.
He shifted on his feet. "To be fair, my original plan was to convince her to return."
"You came to your senses, though," Ellie said.
Graeson shrugged. "I suppose."
She massaged her temples with two fingers. "So, what’s the problem again?"
Graeson tilted his head back and sighed. "She asked for space, so I am giving it to her."
"She asked for space?"
Graeson nodded. "That’s what she said, more or less, before she left."
Ellie snorted. "Have you seen the way that woman looks at you?" she asked, hands propped on her hips. "Anytime I brought you up, she grimaced. She’s clearly in love with you; she’s just afraid to admit it."
He stared blankly at Ellie. She was wrong. Kallie wasn’t in love with him.
"We’re trying to stop a war, Gray."
"I know!" he shouted, losing his patience. He did not wish to be a distraction. He rubbed his hands across his face. Then, quieter and calmer this time, he said, "I know. This is bigger than her and me. There’s no room for anything else."
"By the gods, Gray," Ellie said, shaking her head, disappointment dragging the corners of her lips down. "You are an even bigger fool than I thought you were if you believe any of that."