36. Bryony
brYONY
The Crown had found another way to be a bastard.
Its black point stayed aimed at Stellan while the rest of it lay still. Blood had soaked through the cloth around his waist again. A drop slid over his hip and struck the floor.
The Crown scraped towards it.
I shoved the broken sword across its path. Metal struck metal with a sharp clang, and the Crown spun away from Stellan’s blood.
“It’s noticed what makes you reach for it,” he said.
“It can keep noticing from under the throne.” I pressed the sword against one point. “Help me put it back with the house.”
His mouth curved despite the blood loss. “You’re getting demanding.”
“You’re leaking on my floor.”
The Crown pushed against my blade. I put my free hand on the side of the throne and pictured the narrow space under it closing. Stone moved over my boots. A shallow ridge rose around the Crown, trapping the black metal inside a circle no wider than a dinner plate.
It struck the new edge and stopped.
Lenora watched it from beside the damaged doors. “That won’t hold it for long.”
“It only has to hold until we take Adrian’s dagger.” I kept the blade over the Crown. “Can it use Stellan’s blood without being on my head?”
“The Crown can strengthen itself with royal blood, although it can’t claim the Blood King’s power without a willing heir.”
“He isn’t feeding the fucking hat.”
“Agreed,” Stellan said.
Another drop escaped his bandage. The Crown hit the stone ridge hard enough to crack it.
I looked at the wound down his side. The red line had spread beyond the cloth, and the skin around it remained open. “You need to lie down.”
“Adrian is outside the door.”
“Lenora is watching it. You can bleed in the bedroom instead of beside the object trying to drink you.”
He glanced at Lenora.
She drew her sword and took his position near the doors. “Go. I’ll shout if Adrian puts the dagger near a seal.”
The Crown struck the ridge again. This time, the crack ran into the floor.
“And I’ll shout if this moves,” I said.
Stellan caught my wrist before I could press harder against the broken sword. His grip stayed careful, although the tension in his fingers reached the bond.
“You’re coming with me.”
“I can hold it here.”
“It’s trying to make you choose between containing it and keeping me alive. Stop accepting the choice it offered.”
That shut me up.
The Crown waited inside the cracked circle with one point aimed at the blood on Stellan’s hip. He was right, which remained deeply inconvenient.
“Fine. The house can hold its own horrible jewellery.” I pushed the sword under the Crown, flipped it into the hollow under the throne and stepped back. “Stay there.”
Stone closed across the opening. A black point broke through before the gap sealed, then disappeared under the floor.
The throne shuddered hard enough to shake the floor.
I took Stellan’s hand. “Bedroom.”
He let me lead him through the side door. His steps stayed steady, but the dagger wound burned through the bond. By the time we reached the suite, blood had reached his trousers again.
The bedroom door opened before I touched it.
A tray from earlier still sat on the small table beside the bed. I’d forgotten the bread, cheese and water as soon as the first gate broke.
Stellan pointed at the tray. “Water and food before the bandage.”
“You’re the one bleeding.”
“And you’ve given me blood three times.”
I drank a full glass and ate half a piece of bread while he sat on the bed. The room stayed steady when I knelt between his knees.
“Satisfied?” I asked.
“With that part.” His gaze moved to the mattress. “The bed has been trying to lure you into it since you arrived.”
I looked at the enormous bed. “It may have a point.”
Stellan laughed, then pressed a hand to his side when the movement pulled at the cut.
“Sit still before your organs fall out.”
“The blade didn’t reach anything important.”
“I’m currently including you in that category.”
I untied the strip around his waist. Fresh blood ran as soon as the pressure lifted. The cut started under his ribs, crossed the hard lines of his stomach and stopped near his hip, close enough to make my body remember his hands.
Stellan watched my face. “You’re staring.”
“You’re half naked and bleeding. My options are limited.”
“Your pulse suggests you found one you like.”
I pressed the cleanest cloth to the wound. He sucked in a breath but kept one hand warm at the back of my neck.
“Read it again and I’ll push harder.”
“You’re threatening a wounded man while kneeling between his legs.”
Heat moved under my skin. “You’ve been stabbed. Behave accordingly.”
“Cut. There’s a difference.”
I leaned close enough to feel his breath. “Keep correcting me and I’ll find out how well vampires heal from pillows.”
His hand tightened at my neck. I wanted his mouth, but wanting wasn’t the same as being ready. I sat beside him and held the pressure.
“We need to talk about the Crown before Adrian comes through another wall.”
Stellan’s hand remained warm against my neck. “You’re thinking about wearing it.”
“I’m thinking about what happens if the next cut reaches your heart.”
“You don’t owe the court your body, and you don’t owe me that risk.”
“The risk exists whether you ask me to take it or spend the next century telling me not to.” I held his gaze. “If Adrian gets that dagger against your heart, refusing the Crown may hand him your blood and the whole court. I want a plan before either of us is desperate.”
His expression hardened until his mouth lost every trace of humour. “I won’t help it claim you.”
“I’m not asking for help. I’m asking you to drag it off me if I stop being myself.”
The bond tightened between us. His thumb moved once against my skin, then went still.
“Tell me what you’d do first,” he said.
“Seal every door around Adrian and release your blood restraints.”
“Harrowmere may treat that as one command or several. Keep it simple.”
I considered the words. “Protect this court from Adrian Rook.”
“That gives the Crown room to decide what protection means.”
“Then I name the actions. Shut Adrian outside the inner wards. Release you from every command attached to his blood.”
Stellan gave a slow nod, although tension stayed across his shoulders. “Do them separately. The Crown will try to make you reach for more power once it obeys the first.”
“If my voice changes, you take it off.”
“Your voice may stay the same.” His fingers tightened at my neck. “Give me another sign.”
The answer sat in front of us. “If I command your body, reach for your heartblood or order you away, stop me. Whatever I say after that belongs to the Crown. Fight the restraints until I can release you.”
His eyes stayed on mine. “And if releasing me requires you to keep the Crown?”
“You pull it off anyway.”
Pain moved through the bond that had nothing to do with his wound. “Bryony.”
“I mean it. I won’t trade your chains for mine.” I put my bloodstained hand over his. “If I’m still myself, I’ll swear at you while you do it. If I start talking like a dead queen, hit me with a pillow and remove the bloody thing.”
His mouth almost curved. “A pillow.”
“I’m not giving you permission to punch me.”
“I wouldn’t need permission to save you.”
The answer landed without ceremony. I believed him without needing another promise.
I kissed him. It was brief, deliberate and mine to start and end. When I moved back, he let me.
“Good,” I said. “Then we have a plan.”
“We have the beginning of one.”
“That’s enough. Adrian’s plans have had a century, and they’re still going badly.”
A scraping noise travelled through the wall. Red light appeared under the bedroom door, travelled across the floor and stopped beside Stellan’s boot.
Every muscle in his body locked.
I seized the sword from beside the bed, but the line went dark before I could bring it down. The tension left his shoulders.
Lenora called from the throne room. “He tested the western seal. The house closed it before the dagger entered.”
“Is he still there?” I shouted.
“No. He’s moving again.”
Stellan looked towards the door. “He’s searching for a route that reaches you without putting his arm through first.”
“Then he can keep searching while we make you harder to kill.”
I gave Stellan a sealed bottle. He drank without argument. Strength warmed the bond, but the wound stayed open under the cloth.
“Stored blood keeps me standing,” he said. “It won’t answer a heartblood blade.”
I exposed the pale crescents on my wrist. “This isn’t a shortcut past what happened. I’m choosing it because we made a plan and you told me the truth when it was difficult.”
Hunger and heat moved through the bond. His fangs lowered as he took my waist and drew me between his thighs.
My pulse stayed steady and the room remained clear. I pushed him back against the mattress, keeping my weight from his injured side, and held his gaze.