Thread of Gold

Ch. 25: broken and breaking

She was an idiot.

Penny stalked through the corridors blindly, emotions assaulting her from all directions. A sharp prick of jealousy. The soft brush of comfort. Envy that tasted like sour lemons. But none of it touched her today. None of it was as all-consuming as the rage and humiliation that filled her now.

Grayson was using her.

It was obvious, in retrospect. The way Grayson sought her out that first day. His financial troubles. And then his words in the courtyard: I want you to remember me like this and realize that it was true. All of it.

Well, tough luck.

Penny's mouth twisted. She was going to forget it. Immediately.

The worst part, Penny thought, taking a sharp left, was that she would have arrived early and missed all of it. It was only through a stroke of luck that Tristan had stopped her in the corridor to give her the dream somnium that she'd asked for. She could feel it banging against her thigh now, a tiny phial of solid gold.

Tristan had warned her to be careful. "This dose is even more potent," he'd said. "I would divide it, but you can't expose it to air once it's in the syringe. But Penny, just..." He had sighed. "Only take half of it. Promise me."

"I promise, Tristan."

"Say it." His voice had been a demand.

"I'll only take half," she'd sighed.

Penny frowned. Or had it been a quarter?

Honestly, Penny hadn't listened. She'd been desperate to get Grayson's gloves to him, and now she could only focus on what he'd said.

I could care less about Penny. She's young and silly.

Penny scowled. Well, she'd show him. She'd save the King of Wynterlynn's life and then see who he was calling young and silly.

"Penny!" a voice called.

She sped up. It was no use, though; Grayson's legs were longer than her own, and a moment later, he was skidding to a stop in front of her. His blond hair was a mess, his cheeks flushed red. "Wait."

"For what?" She held out his gloves. "These?"

Grayson stared at them as if he hardly recognized them. "You must know that I didn't mean what I said in the library. Any of that. My uncle—"

"Is it true? Were you using me for money?"

He flinched. "I can explain."

"It doesn't matter." Penny slapped the gloves against his chest. "I won't believe a word you say. You're a liar, Grayson. A very good liar, as it turns out."

"Just hear me out. That's all I ask."

But Penny wasn't in the mood. She pushed past him, stalking towards her room. "I suppose it's convenient for you I can't read your emotions, isn't it? Otherwise your little scheme would have been over the moment you entered the castle."

"It's not convenient." He jogged beside her. Easily, which only annoyed her more. "Not right now. If you could see inside my mind—"

"But I can't."

"I wish you could," Grayson said. "Then you would see that I'm telling the truth, Penny. You would know that I mean it when I say I care about you a great deal. More than I had ever planned to."

Penny stopped. They had reached her room now, a large wooden door decorated with rose and songbird carvings. Grayson spent a night in this room, watching her recover. At the time, she'd found it romantic. But now she knew the truth, Penny thought. Grayson couldn't afford to let her die.