Page 97 of The Kingdom's Reckoning
"That doesn’t…you can’t…"
"I will not drop her," Barinthian said as he maneuvered Lysanthia’s body onto his back. He looked at Graeson, his glowing eyes piercing into Graeson’s soul. "You might not claim me as your father. But heed my words, son. Lean on the one you call yours. You may feel like a monster, but running from her will only make it worse. Let her be your humanity."
Graeson didn’t respond. In silence, he watched the wolf disappear into the woods, his mother draped over its back, her long black hair blending into its fur. He stared at the spot the pair had disappeared for a while, his thoughts spinning too quickly for him to grab. But one thought was louder than the others: Lean on Kalisandre.
How could he do that?
He had seen the terror in her eyes. She hadn’t accepted him before, so why would she now after seeing him transform into a true monster?
His heart twisted as he thought of Kalisandre’s screams of terror. They echoed in his mind, repeating in an endless loop.
A twig snapped behind him, and Graeson spun around just as Moris swung.
Chapter 39
GRAESON
Graeson duckedand rolled under the broken branch that was barreled toward him. His movements were slower than normal, his muscles still sore from the recent transformation and strain on his body.
Moris prepared another strike, his leather wings flaring behind him. But when his eyes locked onto Graeson’s, Moris halted. "Gray?"
Heaving, Graeson narrowed his gaze. "Moris?" he said cautiously.
If this was a trick, Graeson was in trouble. His body needed time to recuperate, and he had no weapon. The last time he saw his scimitars, they were strapped to Ellie’s back. He hadn’t thought to take them when he had left the two women. He hadn’t thought about a lot of things in those fleeting moments after the attack.
He rolled his hands into tight fists and shifted his stance, readying for the next attack.
But it didn’t come. The branch fell to the ground, and Moris dropped to his knees, his wings tucking behind him.
"I-I’m so sorry," Moris sputtered, voice shaking. His head fell into his palms, and sobs rocked his body. "I had no choice. I—" Moris choked on his words, the tears overwhelming him.
Graeson stood and took a hesitant step forward, still unsure whether he could trust Moris. Once upon a time, Graeson had called Moris a friend—or at least an acquaintance. Now, he didn’t know what to make of the man kneeling before him. "What do you mean you had no choice?"
"Domitius," Moris blurted in between sobs, "he made me. He—he can command people."
"Domitius is dead," Graeson bit out.
Moris snapped his head up. "What? You killed him?"
Graeson bit down on his tongue, but nodded. He remembered the bull king’s body falling alongside the guard’s, whose feathered wings erupting into flames.
"I thought I would never get out of there," Moris said, already on his feet and stumbling forward, his wings beating behind him and lifting him onto his toes. He grabbed Graeson by the shoulders and dug his fingers into the sore muscles. Graeson tried to shift away, but Moris only held on tighter, his strength surprising even Graeson.
"I should be dead," Moris said with a wild look in his eyes. "I was nearly dead, but then they didthis. They made me into a monster. And when I saw you, I had no choice. When the order came…" He shook his head, anguish and disbelief coloring his brown cheeks. "I thought I was going to kill you, Gray."
Graeson pursed his lips. Part of him wanted to believe Moris, but another part of him distrusted him. Too much had happened within the past twenty-four hours that Graeson didn’t know what to believe.
"Let go of me, Moris," he ordered, his words clipped.
Moris dropped his gaze to where his fingers were piercing Graeson’s skin. He quickly snatched his hands back and flewback several yards, stumbling when he landed. He threw up his hands, and a few of his fingertips were red.
Graeson looked at his shoulder. Deep crescents marked his flesh. Some spots had been torn open.
"See? I can’t control myself. I can’t—" Moris’ eyes went wide as he stared at the blood dripping down Graeson’s chest. "Are you fuckingnaked?"
Graeson began to speak but halted, the back of his neck prickling. He held up a single finger to Moris, who froze, wings twitching. Before Graeson could search the woods for the source, though, Moris hissed and arched backward, his features twisting in agony.
"What the—" Moris gritted out through clenched teeth. He spun around, reaching toward his back.
