Page 119 of The Throne's Undoing

"Do you want me to leave?" Graeson asked carefully.

Didshe want that? Was being alone better than being in his company? For some reason, Kallie did not think so.

"Kalisandre, I need you to tell me." His voice was soft yet stern.

Still, Kallie said nothing.

But then, when she heard him begin to shift his weight as if to leave once more, she whispered, barely audible, "Stay."

His hesitation lasted less than a second. "All right."

He sat on the stool behind her head, his knees brushing against the porcelain tub. Somewhere behind her, in the bucket perhaps, she heard the sound of water sloshing.

"May I?" he asked.

She glanced up. "Hmm?"

Graeson cleared his throat. "May I help you? If you wish for privacy, I'm sure we could lay a--"

Kallie closed her eyes. "It's fine." She scooted forward a couple of inches away from the back of the tub, her movements slow and uncoordinated from having been sedentary for so long. Then, she tipped her head back.

"I--okay," Graeson stammered, almost as if unsure of himself.

A stream of water flowed down the back of her head moments later. He held his other hand at the edge of her hair, preventing water from spilling down her face.

Then, Graeson cursed.

"What is it?" Kallie asked, beginning to sit up.

"Nothing. It's fine," he mumbled. "Just a little water."

A second later, a swatch of black fabric was tossed onto the ground. Heat rose to her cheeks as she glimpsed his black shirt from the corner of her eye, but she said nothing.

Soon, the smell of citrus filled the room. She took a deep, shaky inhale before shutting her eyes again. He placed one hand on her forehead as he dripped the soap onto her hair.

Graeson worked quietly as if washing her hair was a job that required his sole attention. He scrubbed from the front of her hairline to the base of her neck. His fingers wove into her hair, scratching her skull and spreading the soap into a lather.

She would never have guessed they were the hands of a man who fought with the strength of ten men as they ran through her tangled waves, massaging her scalp with a careful touch.

Then his hands traveled to the divots between her shoulders, his thumbs circling. The proper thing would have been to tell him to stop, that she did not deserve this kind of treatment, but as he continued to apply pressure, the release felt too good to deny it.

"I wish...I wish I could take it all back," Kallie whispered finally.

"It does not do anyone any good living in the past," Graeson scolded.

She smiled sadly. "Dani hates me."

"Dani does not--"

Kallie arched a brow and snorted.

"She doesn't hate you," Graeson said, though his words were less convincing. "She is still grieving. She just needs time."

"There is not enough time in the world that would make her forgive me."

Silence fell between them then, and Kallie couldn't blame Graeson for hesitating. And perhaps it was wrong of her to express her feelings to him when Fynn was his best friend, too. A part of Graeson must have hated her too, yet he never showed it.

"Dani is mad at all of us right now," he said at last.

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