Ghleanna opened her eyes and gazed up at him.
“What’s wrong?”
“I didn’t think it was possible—but this situation has managed to get worse.”
“But you’re so calm,” she observed.
“That’s usually when you can tell everything has gone to shit.”
“I’ll make sure to remember that.” Ghleanna struggled to get up with one arm. She’d left the other tied down because she’d fallen asleep before she could take off the binding. “Perhaps it’s not as bad as you think.”
Bram caught her around the waist and lifted her until she was sitting up.
“I rarely blow things out of proportion, Ghleanna. When stakes are this high, I simply don’t have the luxury.”
Ghleanna leaned forward and caught Bram’s hand. She winced a bit from the pain, and he said, “I should leave you to sleep.”
“Like all the hells you will.” She tugged. “Come. Sit beside me.”
He did, stretching his long legs out on top of the fur.
“Now talk to me, Bram. What has you so worried?”
“She wants me to build a truce.”
“A truce? Between . . .” When Bram didn’t answer, “The Fins—and us?” Bram nodded. “She wants a truce with Rhiannon?” Ghleanna laughed. “Good luck to her then. Rhiannon hates her.”
“And Helena her.” Bram’s voice was cold, his gaze across the room. She could see that he was drawing in on himself. Protecting himself for some reason. She didn’t think it was anything she’d done, and he created truces every day. Why should this one bother him? “But her subjects tire of their limits. They want to travel farther inland and, in return, we’ll be able to use the seas. Especially during wartime.”
Ghleanna instantly saw the benefit of that. The thought of moving up the Northern Coasts and striking at the Lightnings almost made her tingle.
“That seems reasonable.”
“I am a peacemaker, Ghleanna. Not a miracle worker. Rhiannon will never agree to a truce with Helena. Never.”
Ghleanna winced. “Because of that wide ass comment? When Rhiannon took the throne?”
“It was said Helena’s exact words were, ‘I can’t believe that wide-ass cow now rules the Southlands.’”
“And after Rhiannon heard that, Bercelak’s, ‘I love your wide ass’ . . . not really helpful.” Ghleanna waved all that away. “No matter. Simply tell Helena no.”
Bram didn’t move. He didn’t speak. And yet Ghleanna could feel him recoil. Not from her, but from everything else.
Ghleanna pushed the fur off and got to her knees beside Bram. “What aren’t you telling me, Bram?”
“Nothing you need to know.”
“Are you protecting me?”
“You’re still healing. You need rest—not tales of the past.”
Fed up and worried for her friend—she didn’t remember ever seeing him like this before—Ghleanna straddled Bram’s lap.
He blinked hard, brought quickly back into the moment. “What are you doing?”
Ghleanna tugged off the cotton material that held down her arm and had covered her br**sts.
“Ghleanna—”
“Look at me, Bram.”
He smiled a little. “I can hardly look away.”
“I meant look at my eyes, you pervy bastard.” She laughed and said, “Now hear me well. I am no weak female who cannot handle hard news. I am a Cadwaladr.” And her back automatically straightened, her chin lifted. “And we are in this together, you and I. For good and bad. So tell me what you’ve been hiding from me.”
Bram closed his eyes, his breathing deepened. The walls of this place were closing in on him as they’d done to her.
Ghleanna lifted Bram’s hand and pressed it to the wound on her chest.
“We’re bound together, Bram. Nothing can ever change that. Nothing ever will.”
“Understand, it is not shame that stops me from telling you the truth, Ghleanna. It’s fear . . .”
His words faded out, his gaze on hers, and Ghleanna’s brow peaked. “You fear what I might do.”
“As you said . . . you are a Cadwaladr.”
She appeared so insulted, Bram almost felt bad for what he’d said. But she always demanded honesty. So honesty was what she would get.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he argued. “It’s not as if I’m pulling this concern out of my ass.”
She gave a little snort. “You might have a point.”
“I just need to know—”
“I won’t touch her. The Empress. At least not without orders from you or someone who outranks me. There. Happy?”
“Fair enough.” Bram took in a breath, watched his forefinger ease across the scar of her recent injury. He focused on that so he could let the words flow.
“Many years ago. I was lured here.”
“By the Empress,” Ghleanna guessed.
“She wasn’t the Empress then, but yes. By Helena. I was young and she was . . . beautiful, and it never occurred to me that I was being used. Once I was here, they sent word to Adienna that they had one of her royals and they wanted her to return the Fin who had gone past the port towns and been captured by Adienna’s troops.”
“Adienna didn’t bargain.”
“No. She didn’t.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I didn’t think it was possible—but this situation has managed to get worse.”
“But you’re so calm,” she observed.
“That’s usually when you can tell everything has gone to shit.”
“I’ll make sure to remember that.” Ghleanna struggled to get up with one arm. She’d left the other tied down because she’d fallen asleep before she could take off the binding. “Perhaps it’s not as bad as you think.”
Bram caught her around the waist and lifted her until she was sitting up.
“I rarely blow things out of proportion, Ghleanna. When stakes are this high, I simply don’t have the luxury.”
Ghleanna leaned forward and caught Bram’s hand. She winced a bit from the pain, and he said, “I should leave you to sleep.”
“Like all the hells you will.” She tugged. “Come. Sit beside me.”
He did, stretching his long legs out on top of the fur.
“Now talk to me, Bram. What has you so worried?”
“She wants me to build a truce.”
“A truce? Between . . .” When Bram didn’t answer, “The Fins—and us?” Bram nodded. “She wants a truce with Rhiannon?” Ghleanna laughed. “Good luck to her then. Rhiannon hates her.”
“And Helena her.” Bram’s voice was cold, his gaze across the room. She could see that he was drawing in on himself. Protecting himself for some reason. She didn’t think it was anything she’d done, and he created truces every day. Why should this one bother him? “But her subjects tire of their limits. They want to travel farther inland and, in return, we’ll be able to use the seas. Especially during wartime.”
Ghleanna instantly saw the benefit of that. The thought of moving up the Northern Coasts and striking at the Lightnings almost made her tingle.
“That seems reasonable.”
“I am a peacemaker, Ghleanna. Not a miracle worker. Rhiannon will never agree to a truce with Helena. Never.”
Ghleanna winced. “Because of that wide ass comment? When Rhiannon took the throne?”
“It was said Helena’s exact words were, ‘I can’t believe that wide-ass cow now rules the Southlands.’”
“And after Rhiannon heard that, Bercelak’s, ‘I love your wide ass’ . . . not really helpful.” Ghleanna waved all that away. “No matter. Simply tell Helena no.”
Bram didn’t move. He didn’t speak. And yet Ghleanna could feel him recoil. Not from her, but from everything else.
Ghleanna pushed the fur off and got to her knees beside Bram. “What aren’t you telling me, Bram?”
“Nothing you need to know.”
“Are you protecting me?”
“You’re still healing. You need rest—not tales of the past.”
Fed up and worried for her friend—she didn’t remember ever seeing him like this before—Ghleanna straddled Bram’s lap.
He blinked hard, brought quickly back into the moment. “What are you doing?”
Ghleanna tugged off the cotton material that held down her arm and had covered her br**sts.
“Ghleanna—”
“Look at me, Bram.”
He smiled a little. “I can hardly look away.”
“I meant look at my eyes, you pervy bastard.” She laughed and said, “Now hear me well. I am no weak female who cannot handle hard news. I am a Cadwaladr.” And her back automatically straightened, her chin lifted. “And we are in this together, you and I. For good and bad. So tell me what you’ve been hiding from me.”
Bram closed his eyes, his breathing deepened. The walls of this place were closing in on him as they’d done to her.
Ghleanna lifted Bram’s hand and pressed it to the wound on her chest.
“We’re bound together, Bram. Nothing can ever change that. Nothing ever will.”
“Understand, it is not shame that stops me from telling you the truth, Ghleanna. It’s fear . . .”
His words faded out, his gaze on hers, and Ghleanna’s brow peaked. “You fear what I might do.”
“As you said . . . you are a Cadwaladr.”
She appeared so insulted, Bram almost felt bad for what he’d said. But she always demanded honesty. So honesty was what she would get.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he argued. “It’s not as if I’m pulling this concern out of my ass.”
She gave a little snort. “You might have a point.”
“I just need to know—”
“I won’t touch her. The Empress. At least not without orders from you or someone who outranks me. There. Happy?”
“Fair enough.” Bram took in a breath, watched his forefinger ease across the scar of her recent injury. He focused on that so he could let the words flow.
“Many years ago. I was lured here.”
“By the Empress,” Ghleanna guessed.
“She wasn’t the Empress then, but yes. By Helena. I was young and she was . . . beautiful, and it never occurred to me that I was being used. Once I was here, they sent word to Adienna that they had one of her royals and they wanted her to return the Fin who had gone past the port towns and been captured by Adienna’s troops.”
“Adienna didn’t bargain.”
“No. She didn’t.”
