Page 129 of Gravehouse

“Pain,” he says, lifting his eyes from the page and settling on my face. “You’ve forgotten that feeling since your prince is so hell-bent on protecting you.”

I keep my mouth shut.

“You know? I did warn him.” He shifts the book to his other knee, unhurried. “Warned him that I would kill you if he didn’t. But Asher...” He tsks. My shoulders pull tight at the familiar sound.

They know each other.

Emeric knows him well enough to say his name with affection, well enough to have warned him. Everything I understood about my employer splits open beneath my feet.

“He’s always so quick to be a smart-ass, huh?” Emeric smiles at a private memory of Asher being Asher.

My tongue feels thick. “How long?”

“How long what, Ivanya?”

“How long have you known him?”

He stands, setting the Codex on the chair, and crosses the floor slowly. He brings nothing with him but his cologne and the strike of his shoes on concrete, a walk I’ve heard a thousand times across training rooms and beside debrief tables. That sound used to relax me.You idiot. You were in the abattoir the whole time.

His hand closes around my throat.

His fingers press into the sides of my neck, choking the air out of me. My hips jerk against the straps. My throat works uselessly, and the room dims at the edges.

“I know Asher.” His voice brushes my ear with tenderness. “Ivy. And you do too...”

My vision closes fast.

Warm water rocks beneath me, carrying salt on the air.

The little boy’s hands try to undo the ties. He huffs in frustration, dropping his hands to his sides.

“I can’t get them!” he yells, so angry I almost believe him.

“What are you doing here?” I ask through the throb in my throat. “Are you...”

His eyes widen. Blue, so pale they’re practically white. Wow. They’re kind of creepy.

“I’m sorry,” he says, shoulders sagging.

“Are you his son?” I ask.

The little boy’s head jerks toward the cabin door. His wet hair drips into those strange blue eyes.

“I’m getting you out,” he insists, reaching for the rope again.

“His son,” Emeric answers.

His voice hauls me out of the memory. The yacht drops away. Concrete chills my feet, leather cuts into my thighs, and Emeric stands close enough for his breath to touch my cheek.

I stare at him through the wet blur coating my eyes.

“What?”

Emeric cups my jaw, holding my face toward his. “The boy was Parker’s son. He wasn’t freeing you, Ivanya. He was checking the knots.”

“No.” My lips form the word while my head sways. “He got angry because he couldn’t untie them.”

“He got angry because he failed Parker.” Emeric runs his thumb over the blood drying beneath my mouth. “Asher always hated disappointing his father.”