Reeve fingered the ball. “This belongs to a small child. One who couldn’t be left unsupervised. An adult was with them here. Recently.”
“And you think the child belongs to the butcher?” Grayson snorted. “The man’s long gone.”
Reeve’s features pinched. “There are times, Prince Grayson, when you don’t seem wholly committed to our task.”
That he dared suggest such a thing to Grayson’s face proved Reeve was Henri’s spy, and thus had his protection. That knowledge kept Grayson from snapping. “I grow tired of the mountains.” He tried to sound bored instead of desperate. They’d been gone from Lenzen for over a week. He missed Mia and he was sick of taking coin from hands that had nothing to give.
Reeve lightly bounced the ball in his hand. “Word has spread to the other villages. People are fleeing from us. We should divide our forces. I’ll finish here and you could take a group of men to the next village before they can hide.”
As much as he’d like to put distance between himself and Reeve, he feared the damage Reeve would inflict without supervision. “No.”
Reeve frowned, but the soldier who had left returned with a gray-haired man. The man’s misty eyes darted from Grayson to Reeve and back again. He bowed his head, wiping a shaking hand over his mouth. “Your Highness.”
Grayson locked his knees, arms crossed over his chest. “Tell me what you know of the butcher named Hogan.”
The old man’s throat bobbed. “Branton Hogan died six months ago.”
“What happened to his business?”
He shrugged, glancing around. “Fell apart, didn’t it?”
“Who inherited this shop?” Grayson asked.
“He had a brother, but I don’t know where he lives.”
Captain Reeve stepped forward. “Did he have a wife? Children?”
The neighbor eyed the ball in Reeve’s hand. “He did. They left Gevell just after the burial.”
“Where did they go?” Reeve pressed.
“I don’t know.”
Grayson’s gaze wandered to the shop’s back room. The door sagged on its hinges, unable to close completely. Through the narrow opening he caught a shadow of movement and his heart thudded faster. Someone was back there, watching them. Hiding.
Whoever it was would be punished for evasion—or squatting—if they were discovered. Grayson made an impulsive decision as he focused back on the nervous old man. “Thank you for your help. You may—”
“Do you know who this might belong to?” Reeve asked, rolling the ball in his palm. “Are there any young boys in the village?”
The man fiddled with the tattered hem of his shirt. “A few.”
“Did Hogan have a son?”
“I—yes, two. But Mistress Hogan took the boys and left. As I said.”
“Yes, I heard you.” Reeve bared his teeth in a smile and fisted the ball. “I want the names of all the young boys in the village.”
Grayson heaved an irritated sigh, shifting so he casually blocked the back room from Reeve’s view. “Forget it, Captain. It’s a waste of time.”
“I see no harm in pursuing the matter.”
Grayson could order Reeve to stop, but that would be reported to the king, and Henri would question him. So he forced himself to shrug. “Engage in this foolishness if you wish, but it will only earn you a lack of sleep.”
“Thank you for indulging me, Your Highness.” Reeve bounced the ball in his hand as he nodded to the soldiers, who escorted the old man outside.
Reeve continued to bounce the ball as his eyes drifted over the shop, his gaze moving toward the back room.
Grayson snatched the ball from the air.
Reeve actually flinched.
Grayson smiled narrowly, his tone carefully measured. “Watch yourself, Captain. You try my patience.” He strode out the front door, not allowing himself to look over his shoulder. The back of his neck prickled, knowing he’d left Reeve in the shop that was not, after all, empty.
Come on, Reeve. Follow me . . .
Grayson stepped onto the muddy street and Reeve exited the rundown shop behind him. His voice lowered so only Grayson would hear him. “I mean no disrespect, Prince Grayson. I only wish to serve our king, as you must.”
Grayson turned on his heel and leaned in, their faces only a breath apart. They were the same height, even though Reeve was three years older. “Your place is not to question me, Reeve. You overrode me in front of the men. Do so again and it will be your last act.”
Fear crossed Reeve’s face and he shifted back on instinct. But then anger flashed in his eyes and his mouth drew tight. “I will find out who’s been in that shop. And if I can’t do so by morning, I’ll burn it to prove no one is above the king’s law.” He eyed Grayson meaningfully. “Noone.”
Grayson watched the man stride away. The ball was in his fist and a muscle throbbed along his jaw. He glanced back at the shop, his expression carefully blank as his thoughts raced.
Grayson waited until full dark before he slipped from camp. No one saw him go. Reeve would never discover what he was about to do, which meant his father would never know. It was an exhilarating thought.
The night air in the northern mountains was frigid. Grayson kept his cloak pulled tight around him as he followed a deer trail that tracked back to the village of Gevell. Sticking to the shadows and unconventional paths, he arrived with no witnesses.
Grayson sighted the butcher’s shop from the tree line and spent a quarter hour watching it. He saw no sign of Reeve, but he still used the back entrance.
Once inside the hollowed-out shop, he strained his ears. Pinched breathing and a rustle of fabric came from the back room. He eased forward, carefully navigating the rotting floor. He didn’t enter the back room, just stood near the door, his voice pitched low. “I mean no harm. I’ve come to warn you. You can’t stay here.”
The thin breathing
