23. Stellan
STELLAN
Nothing dragged me back. I stood inside Cecily’s room with Bryony’s hand still in mine. The iron collar remained around my throat, and its chain had scraped through the hole in the wall without tightening.
Bryony looked past me at the broken length on the throne-room floor. “Waiting for the house to change its mind?”
“I’m allowing it every chance to disappoint me.”
She stayed close.
I took another step. My body expected iron to bite into my waist, even with the restraint lying several feet behind me. The only pressure came from Bryony’s fingers around mine.
She squeezed once. “Still no regrets?”
“Ask me again once we know the house has accepted it.”
Her fingers tightened around mine.
I looked back at the chain. It stayed on the floor.
Bryony studied me instead of the broken chain. “How does it actually feel? You’ve been waiting over a century for this, and all you’ve done is insult the house.”
“It feels wrong,” I said. “My body is waiting for the iron to stop me. I can remember walking these rooms, but I can’t remember taking a step without measuring how badly the next one will hurt. I’m trying to believe the chain is truly on the floor.”
Her expression softened. “Then take as long as you need. I’ll stand here and insult the house for both of us.”
“You’ve shown considerable talent.”
She laughed, and I pulled her against my chest. The sword stayed lowered at her side, while her free hand settled over the raven tattoo near my ribs.
Her pulse had slowed since the throne room, although I could still smell the blood under the bandage around her palm. I could also smell sex on her skin. My fangs pressed against my lower lip before I made them withdraw.
Bryony noticed the change in my mouth. “You’ve just fed.”
“That has never stopped me wanting you.”
“I meant the fangs.”
I let the fangs show before making them withdraw.
She looked down at my ruined trousers. “You need clothes.”
“Soon.”
One seam in her leggings had torn, and blood marked the green jumper.
I slid my hand to her hip and checked the fabric. “Harrowmere will provide more.”
“After it tried to strangle me?”
“You’ve accepted its bed and food.”
“That was survival.”
I kissed her because the argument deserved an ending. Bryony leaned into me and let the sword rest against the wall. The kiss stayed slow, although her fingers gripped my side when my tongue met hers.
Holding her eased the strain in my chest. Hunger remained present without pushing at my control, and the discomfort that had followed her closed bedroom door disappeared. Her nearness made the connection easier to bear.
I lifted my head. “Walk away from me.”
Bryony’s eyes narrowed. “You’re going to have to improve the timing of that request.”
“I want to test the court.”
“That’s less insulting.” She collected the sword and crossed the room.
Pressure gathered behind my ribs after she passed the fireplace. It increased as she reached the open doorway, yet it carried none of the pain from earlier. I still knew where she was and how fast her heart beat. The awareness settled as soon as she stopped moving.
“Stay there,” I said.
Bryony rested one shoulder against the doorframe. “Far enough?”
“A little farther.”
She took another step.
The pressure increased, and her smile faded when she felt it through the connection.
I held out my hand.
“Come back.”
This time, the request was entirely personal.
She returned without another joke. The pressure eased with every step, and her hand found mine again. I drew her close enough to kiss her temple.
“Distance makes the connection pull harder,” I said. “Touch settles it almost completely.”
“Does that mean Harrowmere wants us holding hands everywhere?” Bryony asked. “Because I’m happy to stay close when it helps, but I’m not letting this bloody place turn it into another rule neither of us chose.”
“It isn’t a rule. You can walk away whenever you want, and the discomfort remains manageable. Staying close makes it quieter for both of us, so we use that when it suits us.”
“Good. The house has had enough terrible ideas without adding compulsory hand-holding.”
The lamps brightened in apparent offence.
Another apology wouldn’t help. She needed time and proof, so I accepted the closeness she offered.
“We should find the limit of the collar,” she said. “If Adrian comes through another wall, I’d prefer to know where you’ll stop.”
“I’m becoming concerned about your lack of faith in the walls.”
She glanced at the rubble. “You started it, and you nearly strangled yourself doing it. If that fucking collar reaches its limit while we’re running, I need to know whether it will pull you over or close around your throat.”
“It will tighten first. I’ll have enough warning to stop, unless the Crown takes control again. If that happens, you put distance between us and use the court to suspend the sentence as you did tonight.”
“And if Harrowmere refuses?”
“You leave my reach and keep yourself alive. I’ll fight the collar.”
Bryony’s fingers tightened around mine. “That answer is practical, so I’m not going to argue with it. I’m also not promising to leave you there if I can break the command without getting myself killed.”
“I wouldn’t believe the promise if you made it.”
We entered the lower hall together. The guard rooms stayed closed, and the silver raven set into the floor held a steady white light. Adrian’s false command had left dark marks along its wings, though the damage had stopped spreading.
The collar chain followed us out of Cecily’s room. Each link passed over the stone with a low scrape that I’d heard for a century. The sound had usually marked the edge of my prison. Now it followed me past doors I’d only seen from a distance.
Bryony watched my face instead of the iron. “Where first?”
“The royal suite. I need clean clothes.”
She looked at the torn shirt.
“It’s been an energetic evening.”
“Mine started with me leaving you.”
I stopped smiling and rubbed my thumb over her knuckles. “I know.”
Bryony left her hand in mine. “I meant what I said in the throne room. We’re continuing, and I’m judging what you do next. That doesn’t mean every quiet moment needs another discussion about whether I’ve forgiven you.”
“Thank fuck. I’ll answer every question, but we don’t have to keep reopening it whenever the room goes quiet.”
Her mouth curved. “You weren’t complaining when we stopped talking.”
“I had other things to concentrate on.” The reassurance was enough for now.
The bedroom opened when we reached the suite. A clean black shirt and trousers lay across the bed, along with boots that hadn’t existed in the wardrobe earlier.
Bryony stopped beside them. “Your house is alarmingly efficient when it wants you dressed.”
“It may have seen the trousers.”
I removed them while she was still looking at the stains.
Her gaze dropped and remained there long enough to make me smile.
“Privacy?”
She sat on the edge of the bed with the sword across her knees.
I left the bathroom door open.
I cleaned the dried blood from my skin, then returned to find her studying the scars along my hip. Most came from ordinary weapons before Edith chained me and had healed cleanly compared with the court’s iron.
She’d seen most of them already, although seeing me move freely held her attention. I could cross the bedroom without iron cutting into my waist, turn my back on the throne and reach the bed because I wanted to.
I pulled on the clean trousers. Bryony gave a disappointed sigh.
I fastened them under her attention.
That made me laugh.
I went to her, and Bryony tipped her face up when I stopped between her knees.
“I like you here.”
Her knees opened for me.
“Armed and waiting for me.”
She reached for my waist.
I took the sword from her and placed it within reach on the mattress. Then I put both hands on her thighs and leaned down to kiss her. The scent of her arousal sharpened.
My mouth moved to the bite on her throat. I pressed my tongue over the closed marks without breaking the skin. Bryony’s fingers slid into my hair, and her pulse jumped against my lips.
“That isn’t helping us test the chain,” she said.
“It’s helping me test several other things.”
“You already tested most of them on the throne.”
“Further evidence is always useful.”
She tugged my hair until I raised my head. “Put your shirt on, Your Majesty.”
“You did prefer me without it.”
“I preferred you on your knees.”
I kissed her once more, then reached for the shirt. The heat in her eyes promised we weren’t finished.
“Later,” she said. “After we test the chain.”
I understood the promise and planned to collect once we finished testing the chain.
We left the suite and followed the hall towards the garden. I released her hand before we crossed the entrance. White light traced the edge of the doorway, then settled as I stepped onto the path alone.
The roses turned towards me. Dark red petals opened across the nearest bushes, and the vines pulled back from the stones under my boots. They had attacked Bryony when Adrian pushed power into the wards. Now they recognised the blood she had given me.
She came through behind me. “Are they safe?”
“For now.”
The spring moved quietly in the middle of the garden. I walked towards it while the collar chain slid across the path. Bryony stayed close enough that I could reach her with one hand, and the pressure in my chest remained low.
At the water, I stopped and looked back. The chain ran through the open doorway and disappeared along the hall. It still tied me to the throne, yet I could stand in the garden without Bryony holding the path open.
Bryony followed my attention. “Will breaking the collar make you completely free?”
“Free of the physical prison. The Crown can still command the Blood King while Harrowmere recognises it, although it needs a crowned heir to use its full power. Adrian is trying to make you that heir because his own blood isn’t enough.”
“Then the simple version hasn’t changed,” she said. “We break your last chain, keep the Crown off my head and stop Adrian getting inside.”
“Exactly.”
“Good. If anyone adds another problem, I’m stabbing them.”
I believed her.
For years, I had listened to water I couldn’t reach and smelt roses growing outside my prison. Now Bryony stood beside the spring with her red hair loose over a bloodstained green jumper, waiting to see what I would do with the freedom she’d given me.
I caught her around the waist and lifted her onto the low stone edge. Her startled laugh ended against my mouth.
“Necessary?” she asked.
“I wanted you closer.”
Her hands settled on my shoulders.
I kissed her again.
The chain shifted behind me but didn’t tighten.
Holding her because I wanted to felt nothing like being controlled. She told me what she wanted and left me free to choose.
Her mouth softened against mine.
I held her until we were ready to test the far end of the garden.
The collar allowed me to reach the wall beside the service passage, although the final links lifted from the path when I went farther. I stopped without letting them close against my throat.
Bryony stood near the spring. The distance pulled at the awareness between us until I could feel each beat of her pulse too clearly. She must have felt my discomfort because she came towards me at once.
“Does it hurt?” she asked.
“It presses harder when you’re far away. The chain still has more length.”
She stopped close enough to put her palm over my chest. The pressure eased again.
“Then we stay together when we can,” she said. “That isn’t a command. It’s the current practical choice.”
“I can tell the difference.”
“Good.”
I covered her hand with mine.
A harsh scrape cut across the garden.
The sound came from the service passage.
Bryony turned towards the service passage. The roses nearest its gate snapped shut, and white light flared along the metal frame.
Another scrape followed, louder than the first. A steel tool was cutting into the warded iron.
I moved in front of Bryony and let my fangs drop. “Go back for the sword.”
She stepped to my side instead. “Who is it?”
The gate shuddered as the blade outside cut into it again.
Someone was breaking into the lower court.