Page 31 of The Throne's Undoing

All Kalisandre wanted was freedom--a choice in this puppet life of hers, yet Graeson had ignored her. He hadn't returned home when she had told him to. He hadn't listened to her even though he knew she had promised to marry the king.

So, yes, he deserved her fury.

Because even if he had the choice to redo things, he would do it the same way again and again.

Kalisandre deserved her freedom. She deserved to make her own choices, to know the truth, and to break free from the king's control. Graeson would do whatever it took to give her that. He made a promise, and he intended to keep it. No matter what.

In the back of his mind, a roar sounded from the god, but Graeson ignored it.

"Graeson!"

Terin's voice snapped Graeson out of his stupor. Panic surged through him, and he grabbed Kalisandre's wrists.

With a growl and determination twisting her features, she tightened her grip around his throat, squeezing.

He wiggled beneath her hold, loosening her fingers just enough to shout at Terin, "Don't touch her!" His voice was gravelly and raw, but he knew Terin had heard him when the footsteps stopped.

Kalisandre screamed, her cheeks turning red as she shifted atop him to tighten her hold. Although Graeson was still stronger than her, somethingotherwas fueling her.

For a woman who had been more or less unconscious for a while, she had the energy and strength of the kraken. Graeson couldn't shake her hold off, not without hurting her.

Using his legs, Graeson tightened his core and twisted, rolling them around. Kalisandre's back hit the ground harder than he had anticipated. Her grip loosened, and Graeson flew into motion. With one hand, he gathered her wrists and held them above her head.

Kalisandre thrashed beneath him. "Get the fuck off me!"

Her hair was spread across the dirt and draped carelessly over her face. Her skin was pale, her cheeks hollow and stained with mud.

She was far from the princess he had seen standing in a diamond-covered ball gown months ago in the marble castle of Ardentol, or the seductress dripping in blood-red rubies inside the Frenzian castle. Out here, in the forests of Frenzia, Kalisandre was not a princess or gemstone for the bull king to parade around.

Her truth was laid bare. She was a woman betrayed by the people she trusted the most. A woman enraged who craved freedom more than anything.

And yet, the words that Kalisandre cried suggested otherwise.

"Where is my father?!"

She will never be free if the bull king's hold remains,the god hissed.

He shouted back, "He is not your father!"

Outraged, Kalisandre kicked, and, as much as Graeson hated himself for it, he shifted and forced her legs flat. She struggled beneath him, but Graeson kept his grip firm.

"He is more my family than any of you," she spat. "He is the only family I have."

Graeson flinched. "He lied to you. He'sbeenlying to you! How do youstillnot see that?"

"And you all haven't?" she scoffed.

All around him, his people met blow for blow from their enemies, their blades slashing through the air. He needed to help them. Graeson had already slayed three of their assailants before he was pulled away by Kalisandre waking up, but his friends were quickly being overtaken.

"Go ahead," Kallie snapped, drawing Graeson's attention back to her. "Call Terin. Force me unconscious again. That's what you did, right? He's been messing with my head again?"

Graeson shook his head in frustration. "If you listened, you would understand."

But Kalisandre still wasn't listening. "Tell me where he is! If you killed him, I'll--"

"He got away," Graeson cut her off.

Kalisandre stopped struggling then, her gaze flitting between his eyes in search for the truth, but it had already been laid bare.

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