I’d throw her out of this house. The salty winter was safer than this prison of a castle.
“Fuck.”
I slammed my fist into the wall, plaster and stone falling around my knuckles.
“Grayson?”
I lifted my head, turning to find Story watching me with wide, walnut eyes.
“Everyone is busy with tea… With Josephine,” she ended on a whisper. “No one noticed me come back. Am I crazy, or was that not an accident?”
Not crazy, not even a little. I wrung out my wrist as she stepped to me, pulling my fist into her hands.
“I know you didn’t like her—”
“So you think I wanted her dead?”
Her brow caved, hurt. “No. I was going to say I think this must be very painful and confusing.” She held my fist tight as I worked my jaw—because she was right, as always.
She slid her hand down the stubble along my jaw. “Let me in.”
“I’m supposed to save you, Story, not send you back to the villain.”
“Me staying with West was always the plan. I’m more worried about you, and what they’re doing to you.”
“He’s hurting you. That was never the plan.”
“He didn’t hurt me—”
“He’s hurting you, Story.” I spun us, until her back was flush against the wall, my fist caged between us.
“There’s a briar caging your heart, little nun. Because of him, because of me, because of that night, I would rip it from you if I could. The longer you’re with him, the more it grows. Am I right?”
“Are you asking me to run?”
I slammed my other hand against the wall, next to her head, and closed my eyes, reining it in.
When I spoke again, my voice was dark and edged, barely contained. “I need to protect you.”
“Tell me what you know!” she demanded. “Tell me your secrets!”
“Oh, he just realized what I did months ago.”
West stood near the entrance to the hall, his body backlit by golden light so all you could see was his silhouette. He was a dark, shadowy monster as he came to us, his footfalls a low echo.
Story gripped my fist tighter, like she knew I was about to spring off her and lunge at West.
No.
No.
This could not be our only fucking option.
“What is he talking about?” Story asked.
West threw his arm around my shoulder. “We’re all on the same team now, Angel.”
STORY
“What is he talking about?” I asked.
Grayson shoved West off him, but West grinned. “I’m right, aren’t I, Crowne?”
West and Grayson shared another look, like they were speaking in a silent language.
All Gray said was, “Shut the fuck up.”
Yet his voice was the most serious I’d ever heard it.
“Grayson?” I hated that my voice wavered. I’d like to think that I’d become stronger over the past few months.
Grayson’s eyes finally found mine.
Broken.
And I stumbled, but he gripped my cheeks, dragging me back to him, eyes burning.
“Stop.” I don’t know what I was asking for. I just know whatever caused the groove between his brows, the deadly timber in his voice, I need to end.
His shoulders dropped, and the muscle in his golden jaw feathered.
His stormy, ocean eyes traveled to my left, and I felt it again—they were talking. Even as he held my face in a death grip.
“You’re scaring me, Grayson.”
His stare flittered back to me, eyes narrowed, and he cursed.
“Why don’t you ask Grayson, your infallible hero, why he didn’t think to warn you the most powerful men in the world think you’re the only thing standing in the way of the prize. That coin you’re after, the one you think will grant you your freedom from me—do you really think you can find it before my father? Before Beryl Crowne?”
“I…” I stumbled, tongue thick. “What is he talking about?”
“My grandfather and the du Lacs are looking for the coin, and they think you are the key to finding it.”
My mouth dropped. “But I don’t…I don’t know where it is. If I did I would have told you!”
“I know. I know, little wife.”
“My grandfather won’t act until he’s one hundred percent certain. Right now it’s just a hunch.”
I see now you’re more, Story. A different, deadlier breed of trash.
Because you’d never expect anything of a servant, would you, Beryl?
I was so sick of keeping my words in. Of being subservient and silent. And the one time I opened my mouth, I jammed a foot down my throat.
“Oh my God.” I fell back.
“What?” Grayson’s concern was faded into a buzz as adrenaline rushed through my ears.
“Oh no…” I vaguely registered Grayson gripping my elbow. “Oh no, oh no.”
I stared ahead.
Unblinking.
Until Grayson gripped my chin and forced my gaze to his. “Story, take a breath, and tell me what you’re thinking.”
“I confirmed it, didn’t I?” I asked, throat hoarse. “I just wanted to stand up for myself. I had no idea what he was talking about… What ice could she have slipped under? She was under the tree! It’s my fault. It’s all my fault—”
Grayson cut me off with a hug, shoving my face into his chest. “It’s not your fault when a snake bites you.”
I didn’t realize I was hyperventilating, that I was woozy, until they sat me down on a stone bench. I stared into both their eyes as West held one elbow, and Grayson the other.
That was when it hit me: Grayson and West were standing side by side. Was what West said true? They knew the same amount of information, and I was in the dark. What the hell was happening? I shook them both off, standing up, putting space between us.
“What the hell is going on here? Am I gonna end up like Josephine?”
I didn’t get the answer to my questions, because our little bubble popped as the rest of the Crowne and du Lac family flooded the hallway while they made their way to bed.
Grayson watched me with burning eyes as West led me to my tower.
West leaned on my doorframe, watching me. He’d loosened his bow tie, his jacket discarded, as if getting comfortable—in my fucking doorway.
I focused on anything else. Maybe if I ignored him long enough, he’d go away.
All the questions I’d sought from Grayson, the ones clawing my chest, suddenly had answers, and they came in the form of Josephine’s pale face.
I’d only just spoken with her; she’d just saved me from Beryl. Now she’s dead.
Gone.
My dress scraped along the hardwood floors, and anytime I turned, the circumference knocked into something—the wooden posts of my bed, the legs of my vanity.
“Someone died tonight,” West said. “So your girl isn’t coming back. If you want out of your dress, it’s either me, or no one.”
I’d worked long enough to know that nothing stopped a servant from getting to her mistress. Not a blizzard, definitely not a death.
“I choose no one.”