Blood for her Crown

Chapter Eighteen

Tanner

He was still standing at the kitchen window when he noticed the two girls walking past. He turned around to see them standing in a dark corner. He studied them for a few seconds until the blonde one—Aderah—appeared shocked by something Grace had just told her. He wondered whether it was because of the secret they wouldn't tell him. He contemplated interrupting them but instead tried to understand what they were saying, though the only words he could grasp were: ...the royal family...Alvaros...collateral damage and something being none of his concern. At least that much was clear.

He returned his gaze to the window, considering the next steps—if he followed them, he'd be in for another adventure. As much as he adored this house and the surrounding nature, it became boring with time, and he craved the thrill of having a purpose. But the possibility that it may be his last made him wonder if it was really worth it. He knew Grace wouldn't tell him everything he needed to know about this, so he couldn't possibly be aware of all the dangers he'd be incurring. So the only question was whether it was worth it.

He sat down at the little kitchen table and pondered for a few moments. Meanwhile, he heard Grace return to Jamie.

If he actually did come along, it certainly wouldn't be pleasant for him. Jamie still hated him, and Grace remained her cynical self. But the thought of letting them walk away from him again without a chance to redeem himself was awful. He had long regretted what he had done and hoped that one day he would be able to put it right. And there it was: his opportunity.

He decided to help them as much as he could and finally make things right with his former friends. Aderah would be with them, and she appeared diplomatic, so there would be someone to speak to until then.
When he had talked to her, it had been the first time anyone had ever asked for his side of the story before passing judgment and eventually abandoning him. He genuinely appreciated it.

Grace

Jamie was asleep when she entered.

She closed the door quietly so as not to wake him. Without moving her gaze away from his peaceful expression, she sat in the same chair she had spent most of the previous hours in.
She struggled to leave Jamie's side. The image of him collapsing in the doorway, a knife in his stomach, kept flashing before her eyes. With them came the guilt—no matter what he said, she couldn't stop blaming herself. None of them would have been in danger in the first place if it hadn't been for her.

She felt a wave of tiredness rush over her as she sat there, buried in her thoughts, her gaze fixed on Jamie. The previous few days had been a mess. She'd been so distracted with processing and thinking that she had entirely forgotten herself. And, while she didn't require as much sleep as others, some sleep may help her get her thoughts straight. So she leaned forward and placed her head on the end of the pillow, next to Jamie's. Despite that rather uncomfortable position, she folded her arms underneath it and drifted off after only a few seconds.

When she awoke three hours later, it felt like she had only slept for a few minutes.

Her head had slipped off the pillow and was now resting on her arms. She pulled herself up and found Jamie, who was propped up on his elbow with his head resting on his palm and grinning at her. He seemed to have recovered, for the most part. Good. That mean they could leave soon.

"Slept well?" Jamie asked, smiling at her.

"Too long," was the only thing she murmured.