Page 55 of Mountains of Mist and Magic

Phillippe was speechless, for once. Finally, he brought his eyes up from the floor, where he had been staring at his boots.

“If that's what you think, then perhaps it's good if we part ways now. I've given you all that I have—and I guess that's not enough.” He didn't even bother looking at her again as he stormed out of the door and slammed it behind him.

Esmeralda crawled into her bed, not even bothering to remove her clothes, and cried into her pillow, and didn't stop until morning.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Grayden's boots scuffed against the stone floor as he traced endless circles around the desk in their bedchamber. His fingers twitched, longing for a task, any task, to occupy his restless mind. Renya had been down in the recesses of the palace, locked away with Cyrus, Agatha, Libera, and even Cressida. Together they had spent the last three days researching. At first Grayden joined, but due to his lack of powers and little knowledge of their origins, he had little to contribute. He had tried to assist where he could, but he felt more and more like a nuisance than a help. So instead, he had camped out in their room, writing letters to Tumwalt to make sure their lands were running smoothly. But now that was complete, and he found himself staring into the fire, with absolutely no clue what to do with himself.

A knock on the door drew him away from the fire, and he walked over and opened it. Phillippe was on the other side of the door, his jaw thick with scruff. He looked unkempt; his tunic was wrinkled as if he'd slept in it.

“What's going on, Phillippe?”

“Want to go clash some metal?”

Grayden's face instantly lit up. “Yes, thank the Gods. I was just considering learning how to knit so I could contribute something to my family.”

It took him only seconds to find his blades and follow Phillippe out of the palace and into the courtyard.

“Do you know a place where we can train where no one will bother us?” Phillippe asked.

“Actually, I do.” Grayden walked down one path that led away from the palace and into a small garden surrounded by large hedges.

“This is nice.”

“Renya and I stumbled upon it by chance—she feels weird being—intimate—in her father's house.”

Phillippe grimaced, and Grayden realized he had over-shared.

“What are you going to do when you move here permanently?”

Grayden frowned, his forehead wrinkling. He hadn't considered it.

“Maybe we'll build our own wing. It doesn't help that our room shares a wall with her father's.”

“I wish my female problems were that simple.” Phillippe pulled out his broadsword and nodded towards Grayden. Grayden withdrew his own sword but didn't make a move.

“So that's why you wanted to spar. What's going on? You could have just told me you wanted to talk.”

Phillippe groaned. “You know talking isn't my strong point. I guess that's one of my problems.”

Grayden stared. “Something going on with Esmeralda?”

Phillippe ran his hand along his jaw. “You could say that.”

“I could tell that she was irritated yesterday at you pushing Triston about his history.”

“I followed her to her bedroom afterwards, and she accused me of not being serious about her. She said she'd heard the rumors about me being, well, rather—”

“Generous with your attention to women?” Grayden supplied.

“Well...yes. And she seemed to imply that the fact that I hadn't...you know...with her...meant that I didn't care.”

Grayden replaced his sword, knowing that it wasn't really swordplay that Phillippe sought now, but rather a brother's advice.

“First of all, I'm shocked to learn that you haven't had her yet.”

“To be honest, Grayden, I don't know how I've resisted. I'm not like you. I need a woman more than I need food or air. I can hardly sleep without it...but with Esmeralda...”

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