Page 21 of Ashborne Forged

“Is it?”

“Yes. Now that I’m not fighting it, it’s making me miserable to be this far away from her and talking to you.”

Gil snorted again. “Good. Then go do whatever it is you need to do to make things right with her. If anyone shows up to cause problems, you take care of it. If you need help hiding the body, have Kham tell Runar. I’ll find a reason to investigate.”

I chuckled, but Gil didn’t.

“Oh, now you’re serious?”

His jaw was tight. “I never joke when it’s life and death.”

“You joke about everything,” I insisted. He smiled in the way that made my skin crawl. “How you manage to make women like you is beyond me. You’re creepy as fuck.”

“And yet, you call me brother. What does that say about you?”

“That it’s time to find a new best friend.”

“You say that like you have choices.” Gil reached over to grab the back of my neck, gripping it a little too tightly. “You and I both know you’ve pissed everyone else off far too much to go looking for new friends now.”

I winced. “I know I’ve been on edge, but… How bad is it?”

Gil huffed. “Ronen thinks something happened in Fyrehold that’s making you lose your shit. Donavyn is convinced you’ve severed a matebond—the only thing that made him question was that the dragons seemed to be thriving. So, he wasn’t sure.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I tried to get you to talk about it and you swore nothing happened.” A thread of anger entered his tone. His eyes glittered.

“I’m sorry,” I said genuinely. “If it’s any help, I wasn’t even able to admit it to myself. I was hardly going to bare it to you so you could tell everyone. But, if you were so sure, why didn’t you ask again?”

“Because, I’ve never had a matebond. I didn’t know. Plus, you’ve been pretty tense, bro. I wanted to live through the night.”

I snorted. “You’re a good friend, Gil.”

“Apparently not. Apparently I have aided and abetted a man who was denying Grace fucking Barnslow—you understand that she’s a real noble? Her parents aren’t just wealthy, they have an old name. Bloodline, ancestry, all that bullshit.”

Fear skated up my spine. “Trust me, I’m aware—but how do you know the difference?”

“Emily in Fyrehold told me. Even if the Courtiers didn’t like her, no one denied her position.”

I sighed, staring at the dirt again, feeling that creeping dread sicken my stomach once more.

But then Gil started chuckling. “Oh shit. You got a noble.” When I shot him an angry look, he only laughed harder.

“Keep your mouth shut,” I muttered, looking around, though I would have sensed if anyone was close.

Gil stopped laughing and frowned. “You think you have to tell me that? I’m not the problem here. The problem is the others. Harle’s got a flapping tongue and—”

“What does Harle have to do with this?”

Gil’s jaw dropped and he gestured toward the treehouse. “Wake up, Vos. She’s your mate. And a Flameborne. Do you remember what Bren and Donavyn went through? How hard it was for them?”

“I’m aware,” I said dryly.

“So, you’re going to need back up, just like he did.” He leaned in, eyes darting past me to search the dark meadow, as if we might be overheard. “More so, actually, because you don’t have an apartment, and you can’t order others around to cover for yourself. We’ll have to help you—”

“I am not telling the brothers this. Not yet.”

“What?! You’re insane! Who else will help—”