Graff’s pink eyes narrowed. “And you never—”
“Focus,” Mirin snapped.
Rosaanne concentrated on the glass again. It cracked down the center, spidering toward the edges and crumbling in her hand. Shards of glass fell onto the rising pile near her crisscrossed feet from her attempts at making it indestructible. “Another tile please.”
Graff’s tile shattered too. “Dammit.” He huffed and held out his hand. “Me too.”
Mirin handed them another tile.
“We’ve been at this for over an hour,” Graff complained before he looked at me as if I were in charge of calling it a day.
“Keep trying,” Mirin commanded. “Think about wanting to keep that glass intact.”
“I got it!” Rosaanne said, holding up her square in the air in triumph.
Mirin looked at it, aimed, and fired his lavender magic. The glass exploded and shards rained down in her unruly hair. She grunted in frustration. “Never mind.” She held out a hand for another tile as she shook her head and let glass fall over the carpet.
“Last three,” Mirin announced as he handed one to each of them. “Come on. You guys can do this.”
“If we can’t do it, what makes you think non-Elizians who have never wielded magic know how to do this?” Graff argued.
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Practice? Time? Fletcher is risking everything pretending to be part of the Cidris. We have to try our best like he is.”
Graff sat up straight in alert as if he had thought of something important. His eyes slid to mine with judgement and anger. “Ripley. What if they have an Elizian who’s working with them—who has access tothis incredibly rare ability. To a bond that might give him an advantage.”
The three of them stared at me. I knew exactly what they were insinuating.
“No,” I gritted out, fists clenching. “Fletcher isnotworking with them.” I’d already been through this trauma, and I had since resolved it. I did not want the floodgates opening again. “He wouldn’t be helping us otherwise.”
“For the show of it—to get access to your blood willingly. Yeah, he might,” Graff added.
“He’s not.”
“He might.”
“He wouldn’t,” Rosaanne defended, standing up abruptly, more glass raining down from her hair and over Graff.
I, too, stood in solidarity with Rosaanne. “Fletcher would never use me. He’s bonded to me. And he has pledged to me.”
Graff shook his head in pity. “You naive, little girl.”
I furrowed my brows, wondering what the hell that meant. It was proven time and time again that I was naive, and he knew it would make my skin crawl because he had taken advantage of that part of me already once before.
“Hey!” Mirin snapped. “Do not insult our princess.”
“It’s the truth.” Graff’s thick muscles tensed as his face reddened, heat gathering in the room with his temper. “What’s an insult, to all of Elizy, is that she is withDarkly.Darkly, Mirin! Fletcher stole your dead parents’ wedding crowns you inherited. Remember that?”
The comment smacked my chest in ways I wish it hadn’t. Fletcher had prepared me for this. For hearing things he had done that he was not proud of.
“How can you not be bothered by this?” Graff continued.
“Because I have respect for my princess!” Mirin stood tall beside me, his loose curls tumbling over his dark brows and ginger eyes. “And I have respect for Fletcher.”
The statement burrowed itself into my heart, resting safely there with trust and acceptance.
Graff scoffed and Rosaanne crossed her arms as if about to make a snippy comment back to Graff.
“How is that fucking possible?” Graff expressed, standing now, taller than everyone.
