Page 16 of The Throne's Undoing

"No," Graeson interrupted, snapping his attention away from his wayward thoughts. "We must keep going."

Ellie kicked her boots against the horse's sides and raced ahead. Turning suddenly, she brought the horse to an abrupt halt, forcing Graeson's mount to stand on her hind legs as she cantered.

Graeson gripped the reins and squeezed his thighs as the horse's front hooves smacked the ground, "By the gods! Are you--"

"We're stopping," Ellie shouted over him, looking past him and toward the others.

He bristled. "No, we need to--"

Ellie's gaze locked onto his, her intense black eyes meeting his piercing silver stare. "We'restopping," she hissed. "The horses need to rest, just as we do. Running ourselves ragged will do us no good."

Graeson clenched his jaw, his teeth grinding together as he glared at Ellie. She wasn't going to budge, and Graeson knew it.

By now, they had been traveling for several hours. The sun was dipping down in the sky, teetering just above the horizon. Shadows slithered quickly across the uneven terrain as evening neared.

He released a heavy sigh and glanced over his shoulder. "Dani?" he prompted.

Dani was already moving, guiding her horse around him and Ellie. She jerked her chin to the right. "I already found a place to lay low and rest until morning."

Graeson shifted his gaze toward Terin, biting his lip.

The prince was pushing his limits. Anyone could see that by the way his skin had dulled and his movements had slowed; just a bit longer and he might collapse.

Analyzing his options, Graeson returned his attention to the two women with a resigned sigh. "The moment dawn comes, we ride."

When they had enteredthe cave, Emmett practically threw himself onto the ground as he stretched out his limbs. "Gods, I never thought I would be thankful to be lying on stone."

Sylvia chuckled, but the light sound was short-lived as sorrow once again filled their gaze.

Without Moris' jokes cutting through the ever-present silence, his absence rang heavily in the cave with nothing left to distract them.

Moris was a good man. But Graeson had realized long ago that good men were often easiest to kill. Because the ones who didn't deserve to live--the people who destroyed, conquered, and slaughtered for their own advantage--were always the ones who refused to die.

Dani, sitting beside Sylvia, nudged them with a shoulder. Sylvia leaned into her, and Dani wrapped an arm around them. Dani's brows pinched in pain, though. The wound Dani had suffered earlier in the tunnels still caused her some grief. Graeson frequently found her wincing and touching her side, her palm sweeping over her stomach before she caught herself. She wouldn't be able to hide her pregnancy forever. However, it was futile to mention it since Dani would likely dismiss his concern and counter it with some spiteful retort.

So, Graeson kept his mouth shut as Sylvia and Dani silently mourned their comrade. He followed Terin as he placed Kalisandre gently on the ground.

"Here," Graeson said, quickly taking a seat on the other side of Kalisandre. He lifted her head and cradled it in his lap, gently brushing his knuckles across her forehead and sweeping away the loose strands of hair.

"How is she?" Graeson asked as Kalisandre remained asleep, lost in whatever dream Terin had woven for her.

Terin sighed as he slumped to the ground on the other side of her. "I am not sure what the king did to her, but her mind is a mess from what I can tell." He grimaced.

"How do you know that?" Medenia asked as she settled on the opposite wall of the cave.

"While I cannot read her mind like my brother could," Terin began, his gaze quickly flicking away from Dani as she flinched at the mention of her husband, "her mind has clearly been tampered with. It's a tangled mess, more so than before even." He furrowed his brow, stroking the scruff on his chin. "It's hard to explain if you haven't experienced it. I can still shift her dreams, but it's...harder. Finding the memories to call forth feels like I'm digging through piles of thick, heavy mud."

Graeson's brows twisted together as he observed Kalisandre's unconscious form. The torn piece of white fabric from her dress was now stained a muddied red color. He shifted her slightly and unwrapped the makeshift bandage from her head. As he peeled it back, he noted that the wound on the back of her head was no longer actively bleeding. Still, seeing her blood spread across the cotton sent a spiral of cold anger rising through his chest. This was all his fault. He shouldn't have fought her.

He should never have let her go when Domitius had first attacked them all those years ago. He should have held on tighter. If he had, then none of this would have happened.

"Here, Gray, use this," Ellie said, pulling a small square of fabric from her bag and calling Graeson back to the present. She poured liquid from one of the canteens on it before tossing the soaked rag to Graeson.

Emmett perked up from his spot on the ground, sniffing the air. "Is that liquor?" he asked eagerly.

Ellie scoffed, tucking the canteen back into her bag. "Not for you, it's not."

"What? Like it magically changes or something?" Emmett asked with a huff.

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