Page 78 of The Throne Seeker
She had never traveled outside of Cathan, nor explored much of her home province, for that matter. Every time she’d expressed the desire to see more, her mother had quickly squashed the idea, insisting it wasn’t safe or proper for two women to travel alone. It was an excuse; her mother had never been fond of traveling and grew near frantic at the mere mention of the idea, so Rose had stopped mentioning it. Looking back, she supposed the real reason might have been their financial situation.
For the first time, she gazed out into the depths of the sea without fear. Instead, she felt something… calling to her. Like a mysterious being was summoning her from the void, liberating her, as if she could travel wherever she pleased. She envisioned crossing the seas to Eristan, visiting the tribes of Semaria, or meditating in the tranquility of the Ostlyn temples under the beautiful cherry blossom trees she had only read about in books.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Grant praised from behind.
She didn’t turn to look at him as she replied, “I like it.” She tamed her windblown hair behind her ear. “It makes the day feel less ominous.”
“Quite.” He stepped beside her, his eyes fixed on the horizon, shifting his broad shoulders, nearly large enough to compete with Zareb’s or Roman’s.
She felt a pair of eyes searing into her back. She peeked over her shoulder to see who it was. She wished she hadn’t. Tristan and Roman stood side by side near the opening of the tent, Tristan glowering at the pair with envy, while Roman glared, irritated by the distraction.
“It’s good for the council to see you with someone else right now,” Grant said. “Now more than ever. Our minds are about to be dissected under a microscope. Perhaps they won’t ask about you if you’re no longer a weakness for him.”
“Am I not a weakness for you?” she asked, cocking an eye brow, taunting him.
A seriousness crept into his eyes as he frowned. “I told you once I only pursued you to get underneath Tristan’s skin, but… I have, in fact, started to grow wildly attracted to you and your fire. When you confided in me last night, it had me foolishly hoping it was a sign you wouldn’t be so unhappy if you ended up with me after all. So to answer your question, no. You’re not a weakness to me, not yet. Although you very well could be.”
Grant spoke in a way that would’ve made any other young maiden swoon, but it only made her shift her gaze, catching a glimpse of Grant’s parents as they lingered near the tent. They, like Grant, regarded everyone with an air of superiority, convinced that they were destined to become the next royal family. They must think she was at least somewhat of a good match to let him continue pursuing her. She didn’t doubt her potential chance at the throne, and the fortune they assumed she had played a significant role in their approval.
How little they knew.
“I like how open we are,” Grant admitted, twisting her guilt further. “I feel like we understand one another. So I will betruthful with you like you were with me. The high council, Lord Martin in particular, came to me and told me if I do become king, it’d be in my best interestnotto marry you.”
Her eyes bounded to his, wondering if she’d heard him right. “They what?”
“You scare them for some reason.” He scanned her up and down as if asking himself what they could be afraid of. “But they aren’t being coy about it anymore. It’s not just Tristan they don’t want you with. They don’t want you to become queen. Period.”
She gazed back out at the stormy horizon. “I see.”
“Which, of course, makes me want you all the more.” He smirked, creeping closer, brushing her windblown hair back.
Her head tipped skeptically. “I know you, Grant. If I was in the way of you becoming king, you’d gladly trample me under your feet.”
Grant put a hand over his heart. “I’m offended you think so little of me.”
“Why? You and I both know you wouldn’t pass up the crown for the world.”
He gazed at her as though he possessed all the confidence in the world. She envied that confidence. “I’d beking. I wouldn’t let them tell me who I can and cannot marry. And I sure as hell wouldn’t let them bully me like Tristan.”
She paused, stunned at his declaration.
He took advantage of her silence, slowly shifting to tower over her. He spread a hand on the small of her back, drawing her closer. Her breath caught. He was close—too close. His lips parted over hers.
She knew what he was about to do. She went to pull back, but Grant’s hand trapped her, blocking her escape.
Zareb broke like a statue coming alive, taking a quick step toward the pair. Tristan also lunged, but Roman stuck an armout, ripping him back, furiously whispering something into his ear.
“Call Zareb off. We had a deal.” Grant leaned in, smelling her hair as the bridge of his nose grazed her neck.
She swallowed hard. Damn him. Her eyes flickered to Zareb, shaking her head. Zareb stopped in his tracks.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” Grant whispered into her ear. “You might even like it.”
Before she could think about what was happening, Grant captured her lips.
His warm mouth molded against hers with ease, both arms snaking around her waist. It was a possessive, slow kiss. If she was being honest, it wasn’t half bad. In fact, it was quite good. If Rose had any real feelings for Grant, she might have savored it. But he wasn’t Tristan. There were no sparks, no butterflies, no fire surging through her veins.
Grant came up for air. His eyes changed—hooded. “Bloody hell,” he murmured, as if something had just clicked within his mind. “I get it now.”
