Page 127 of The Throne's Undoing

Graeson snorted. "Surely not. You have been right about many things."

"Oh? Like what?"

Graeson hummed his eyes fixed upon her. But as he struggled to keep his gaze from slipping to where the water sat at the curves of the top of her breasts, he had a hard time recalling the question.

"See?" Kalisandre mused. "Getting you to admit that I, or anyone else for that matter, is right is a hard feat, indeed."

Graeson rubbed a hand across his face. "People are sometimes right. It's just that they're usually wrong more often."

She snorted. "No, you're just a cocky bastard."

A small, genuine smile rose as Graeson recalled her having made the same statement at the fire that first night months ago.

They fell into a comfortable silence for a while after that. Soon, however, Kalisandre shifted, her brows twisting together as concern blanketed her countenance. "Will you tell me what happened back there?" she asked quietly.

Graeson brushed a hand through his hair, causing water droplets to drip down the sides of his face. "I do not wish to burden you."

"As if I have not burdened you?" she scoffed.

His gaze snapped to hers. "You are not a burden, Kalisandre."

She rolled her eyes, but Graeson still caught the doubt creeping in behind those sea-blue eyes. He couldn't bear another moment of witnessing it.

"Do not roll your eyes at that," Graeson grated out across the pool.

Kalisandre quirked a brow. "I will do whatever I please, Graeson."

"True, but I cannot let you carry on thinking you are a burden to me. It wouldn't be right."

"Aren't I, though? How many times did you try to tell me the truth, but I wouldn't listen? How far did you and the others have to carry me while I was unconscious? You all have risked so much for me despite never having deserved it." She shrugged.

"I did those things because I wanted to and because it was the right thing to do."

She shook her head in disbelief. "That does not mean it was not burdensome; surely you had a life in Pontia that you have uprooted to come here."

Graeson huffed. "It's ironic that you wish me to tell you the truth, yet you sit there avoiding it."

"I do not." She bristled.

Graeson could hear how she tried to force her words to sound steady, yet the way she dropped his gaze proved otherwise.

"I will say it as many times as I need to: you have never been a burden, Kalisandre. You never asked me to cross the sea or the mountains, yet I would do so gladly, even if it meant I only got to be in your presence." When Graeson spoke next, he held her gaze, lest she think he was lying again. "I told you once before that you consume me, and that has not changed."

Her face flushed. "Then why won't you tell me the truth about what happened earlier in the woods?" Her gaze fell to the space between them, and when she met his eyes a second later, she arched a brow in challenge. "Why do you continue to maintain your distance?"

"Because it is safer for you," he murmured, voice thick.

"Safer for me?" Kalisandre asked, her tone taking on an edge. "Or easier for you?"

Graeson laughed, the sound quickly disappearing into the steam. "Nothing about this is easy for me." He curled his fingers inwards, his nails driving into his palms as he forced himself to remain where he was and ignore the pull toward her. "Everything I do, I do for you. It pains me not to be near you, to touch you."

"If it pains you, then why do it? Why stay back?" she asked quietly.

"Because Kalisandre--" he began but swallowed as the words became stuck in his throat. He was riding a fine edge of needing to wipe the smug look off her face and being a decent man by staying put.

With an agitated groan, Graeson brushed his hair back. Water fell down the sides of his face, but the steam from the springs only increased the rising heat in his chest.

"Because...?" she pressed, her head tilting.

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