Chapter 2

"You heard her," one of Cedric's men said.

Cedric's grip tightened. His glove pressed into my ribs. "I heard a traitor asking for room to run."

"I was being dragged to a gallows. Forgive me for not waiting politely."

His eyes dropped to the bone blade still clenched in my hand. Lucian's blood darkened the edge.

"You cut White Candle's heir in front of half the ruling court," Cedric said. "Then you threw yourself into my arms."

"You make it sound romantic."

His mouth barely moved. "It wasn't."

"Good. I hate misunderstandings."

The rifles shifted closer. Cold metal caught the candlelight. I could feel Cedric's chest against my back, hard and steady through his coat. He smelled like iron, smoke, and something clean that made my throat tighten for reasons I refused to examine.

"Put down the blade," he ordered.

"Tell your men to lower their guns."

"You're not bargaining from a strong position."

"Neither are you. You dragged the enemy commander's bride out of a court full of witnesses. If I die here, Lucian gets a martyr and you get a war."

That earned me a pause.

His fingers shifted against my waist. Not softer. More careful.

"She's not his bride," a soldier said. "The contract was destroyed."

"The contract was still recognized by the Assembly," Cedric replied. "Until someone with authority voids it."

I turned my head enough to see his profile. "You know a lot about my marriage for a man who claims I'm just a traitor."

"I know enough to know what you are."

"Then say it."

His gaze met mine.

"A Morrow girl wearing a Veyre ring. A spy with a hidden blade. A witness to a massacre who waited until the last second to choose a side."

My stomach locked.

He knew the name. Not the truth. Not yet.

I smiled without warmth. "You left out spoiled, heartless, and probably pretty. I expected more from the deadliest commander on the border."

His stare dropped to my mouth for one sharp second.

Then he shoved the blade from my hand and caught my wrist.

"Move."

"Where?"

"Somewhere I can question you without an audience."

"Your soldiers are an audience."

"They won't be listening."

"That's not what worries me."

His thumb pressed over my pulse. I felt the beat jump beneath it. His eyes noticed. Of course they did.

"You're worried I might hurt you?" he asked.

"I'm worried you'll enjoy trying."

The soldiers stared straight ahead, pretending not to hear. Cedric pulled me through the shattered window frame and into the corridor beyond. His hand stayed around my wrist. Every step dragged me closer to him, shoulder brushing his chest whenever I stumbled over glass.

I let him think I was stumbling.

At the first turn, I drove my heel down onto his boot and twisted toward the nearest guard.

Cedric caught me before I reached the rifle. His arm hooked around my middle again, hauling me backward until my spine hit him.

"Try that again," he murmured against my ear, "and I'll bind both hands."

"Try it, and I'll bite through whatever you use."

His breath touched the side of my neck. Warm. Annoyingly close.

"You keep threatening me with your mouth."

"You keep putting it near your throat."

For one second, neither of us moved.

Then he shoved me forward.

"Walk."

The Blackgrit soldiers watched us pass through the fortress gate. No one spoke. They had seen me land in their commander's arms. They had seen him refuse to hand me over. That would become a story before dawn.

I needed to survive long enough to control the next version.

Cedric took me into a narrow interrogation room cut into the stone. A single lamp hung above a table. Two chairs faced each other. Iron cuffs were fixed to one side.

He pointed at the chair.

I sat.

He remained standing.

"Name."

"Evelyn."

"Full name."

"You already know it."

"I want to hear you say it."

"That's unfortunate."

He leaned over the table. His knuckles touched the wood. "You have three choices. Tell me who sent you, tell me what you stole, or let me decide which finger comes off first."

I looked at his hands. Big hands. Scarred across the knuckles. The right one carried a fresh cut from the banquet window.

"You threaten every woman you drag into this room?"

"Only the ones who stab men with bone knives."

"Lucian deserved worse."

"Why?"

My jaw clenched.

Cedric caught it. "There. That's the first real answer you've given me. Why does Lucian Veyre deserve worse?"

"Because he signed an execution order for my family."

His face went still.

I leaned back. "Don't look so surprised. Your army carried it out."

"My army didn't enter Morrow territory."

"Blackgrit uniforms did. Blackgrit rifles did. Blackgrit officers watched while my father, my brothers, and every servant under our roof were dragged into the square."

"You saw it?"

"I felt the first bullet tear through my shoulder. Does that count?"

The words left before I could stop them.

Cedric's eyes sharpened. "You survived?"

"Clearly."

"No Morrow survived that night."

"Then perhaps your records are as useful as your soldiers."

He came around the table.

I stayed still until he stopped behind me. His shadow covered the floor near my boots. I could feel his heat at my back without touching him.

"Who were you before the engagement?" he asked.

"A woman with a family."

"Before that?"

"Someone who believed men in uniforms could be trusted. I was young. It was embarrassing."

His hand closed around the back of my chair.

"You keep using jokes to cover lies."

"You keep asking questions you already think you know the answers to."

He bent close. "You don't know what I think."

"I know you haven't called for the execution room."

That stopped him.

I turned my face slightly. His mouth was close enough that one careless breath would touch mine.

"You need something from me," I said. "If you only wanted answers, your guards would have searched me and taken me to the cells. You brought me here yourself. Why?"

His eyes stayed on mine.

"Because the court saw you choose me."

"I chose survival. Don't flatter yourself."

"The court won't care about the difference."

"And what do you care about?"

His jaw flexed. "The order."

I pulled the folded document from inside my torn sleeve and placed it on the table.

Cedric's gaze dropped to the seal.

Lucian's white candle stared up from the wax.

"You stole this from him," he said.

"I took it back."

"What's written inside?"

"Enough to burn three provinces."

"Open it."

"No."

His hand slammed beside mine. The lamp shook.

"You're in my fortress. My soldiers are outside this door. You have nowhere to go."

"And you still haven't taken it from me."

His face came within inches of mine. "Give me the order, and I give you until dawn to leave Blackgrit."

I almost laughed. "Your guards would shoot me before I crossed the outer bridge."

"Not if I command them otherwise."

"Then I get a few hours and a target on my back."

"You get a few hours alive."

"What happens after dawn?"

"That depends on what the order says."

There it was. His weakness. He needed the paper more than he wanted my confession.

I slid one finger over the sealed edge. "You want me to trust a man whose army murdered my family."

"I want you to understand that I wasn't there."

"Your name was on the banners."

"My name is on every banner in the north. That doesn't mean I gave the order."

The anger in his voice sounded real. That made him more dangerous, not less.

I stood. The chair scraped hard against the floor. Cedric reached for me, but I moved first, pressing the document between us.

"A trade," I said. "You let me walk free inside the fortress until dawn. No locked cell. No guards touching me. No questions about my family. In return, I give you the order."

"You don't set terms here."

"Then keep guessing what's inside."

His gaze flicked over my face, then down to the paper.

"You think you can survive alone in Blackgrit?"

"I survived Lucian."

"You cut him once. He'll send a hundred men after you."

"Then you'd better stop wasting time."

Cedric took the order from my hand.

I caught his wrist before he could step away.

The contact hit both of us. His skin was hot beneath my fingers. His eyes dropped to where I held him, then returned to my face.

"If you betray me," I said, "I'll make sure Lucian gets the original before I die."

"You don't have the power to do that."

"No? Then why are you still standing here?"

His thumb dragged once over the inside of my wrist.

It was barely a touch. It still made my breath catch.

He noticed that too.

"Let go," he said.

"Promise the trade."

"You don't get promises from me."

"Then I don't give you the order."

For a long second, his fingers stayed over mine.

Then he pulled a short knife from his belt and set it on the table.

"Blood oath," he said.

I stared at the blade. "You said no promises."

"This is stronger."

"And more dangerous."

"Only if one of us lies."

I looked at him. "You make that sound simple."

"It is simple. You speak the terms. I speak mine. We cut our palms and seal them on the order. Until dawn, you stay under my protection. I won't hand you to Lucian. You won't leave the fortress or hide the order's contents from me."

"And if I refuse?"

"You'll be locked in the lower cells."

"With your men?"

His eyes went cold. "No one touches you without my permission."

The words should have comforted me. Instead, they wrapped around my throat like another kind of chain.

"You enjoy owning every room you enter?" I asked.

"I enjoy keeping control of what belongs to me."

"I don't belong to you."

His stare held mine. "Not yet."

The silence snapped tight.

I picked up the knife.

"Say the terms again."

Cedric stepped close enough that my chest brushed his. "Until dawn, you remain in Blackgrit under my protection. You give me the original command. You don't lie about its contents. You don't flee."

"And you don't surrender me, sell me, or let Lucian's men cross the walls for me."

"Agreed."

I cut my palm.

Pain flashed bright. Blood welled at once.

Cedric took the knife from me and sliced his own hand without looking away. His blood fell beside mine onto the sealed order.

The wax seal cracked.

Red lines spread across the paper, thin as veins, then curled around both our wrists.

The mark burned.

I grabbed the table. "What the hell did you do?"

Cedric caught my elbow. His face had gone hard, but his grip tightened when my knees dipped.

"The oath is binding."

"You said it was simple."

"I said it was stronger."

The red line climbed under my skin and stopped just below my throat. Cedric's mark mirrored it. Our hands were still touching the same document.

A fist hammered against the door.

"Commander!" a guard shouted. "Messenger from the eastern road!"

Cedric did not move away from me.

"What does he want?" he called.

"A sealed command from White Candle. He says it concerns the prisoner."

My blood went cold.

Cedric's fingers closed around my wrist, right over the burning mark.

The door opened. A pale messenger stepped inside and dropped to one knee.

"Commander Vale," he said, holding out a black-wax letter. "Lucian Veyre sends terms. Hand Evelyn Morrow over before dawn, or Blackgrit Outpost will be declared a rebel fort and destroyed by—"

Cedric's gaze cut to mine.

The messenger broke the seal and unfolded the order.

"—by every army under the White Candle banner."

Cedric's thumb pressed harder into my oath-mark.

"Get out," he said.

The messenger froze. "Commander, the order requires—"

"I said get out."

The man backed away, but Cedric still held me. The blood line pulsed between our skin.

I leaned close enough for only him to hear.

"You promised not to surrender me. So tell me, Commander—what exactly are you willing to lose for that promise?"