Chapter 19: The Last Grey Coat

We went out onto the balcony at the end of the corridor, where the wind off the sea was loud enough to make a private room.

Ronan stayed at the head of the stair with his arms folded.

He did not look at us, and I knew he could hear every word.

Lucian stood a body's length away from me with a folded bundle of grey cloth under his arm.

He did not begin at once.

"I opened your mother's tomb," he said.

"I know."

"You said at the feast that only an Ashmere could open it.

"I didn't tell you how I did it."

He looked at the sea.

"I took a bowl of your blood from the Altar last spring, the week the Crown was commissioned.

"It was only supposed to be a little.

"I carried it to the vault door and wet the seal, and the door opened, and I stood in front of her coffin with the stone in my hand.

"I told myself it was for the Court.

"I never once told myself that it was a thing I'd done to you."

The wind pulled at his hair.

"You were in the next room, ill from the last cut, and I didn't go to you."

I said nothing.

I had decided I would let him finish.

"I looked at the bowls this morning," he said. "Ninety-five.

"I can't count the evenings I walked past you.

"I've tried.

"There were too many.

"I kept thinking that if I could find one I'd done differently, I could point to it, and I can't."

His voice had gone rough.

"I'm not telling you this so you'll be sorry for me."

"Good."

"I'm telling you so someone has said it plainly and not in a hall full of people."

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