Grayson grit his teeth. Why did they always make this more difficult? He barked a command for her to be restrained and two soldiers jumped to obey.
As the woman was dragged past Grayson, she glared at him, her face flushed with grief and rage. “You’re a demon! Fates-willing, I’ll live to see the day your black heart is cut out of you. You and your entire family!”
Grayson raised his hand and the woman flinched, but he’donly grasped Reeve’s wrist, stopping the captain from strikingher. Grayson didn’t spare Reeve a look as he shoved his hand away and leaned in to the woman, his voice carefully measured. “If you wish to make your husband’s sacrifice a worthy one, I suggest you curb your tongue.”
“You know nothing of sacrifice!” she spat, her chest rising and falling with each harsh breath.
“If you value your existence,” he breathed coldly, “you will be silent.”
Her lip curled, nostrils flared. “You’ll never be free of your sins. Not even if you silence every one of your accusers.”
There would be no reasoning with her. Grayson turned on his heel and swung onto his horse. With a harsh tug of the reins he put the woman behind him. The soldiers also mounted andthe squad rode out, Borg stumbling as he was dragged behind a soldier’s horse.
After they had left the inn behind, Reeve edged his mount to the prince’s side. “You should have killed her for her insolence.”
Grayson barely bit back a curse. It was all he could do to keep his voice level. “If I’d killed her, he would have fought. A dead man can’t pay his debts.”
“Some punishment was in order, Your Highness.”
Grayson hardened his jaw. The other soldiers weren’t brave enough to speak to him, much less reprimand him. Most people saw the Black Hand and flinched back. He was a legendary fighter with the scars to prove a life devoted wholly to violence. Perhaps being the king’s spy had given Reeve a measure of self-importance.
Still, Grayson’s continued silence prompted Reeve to let his horse drift away.
“You’re a demon.”
The memory of the woman’s words made his lips twitchdryly because they were true. King Henri and Queen Iris hadfive sons, all created expressly to serve the crown, each raised with unique—and usually violent—skills. Defiance was inconceivable. Resistance, pointless. Grayson was his father’s puppet. He had to be.
“You know nothing of sacrifice.”
He glanced over his shoulder at the innkeeper. The man’s head was bowed, arms stretched taut as he was pulled behind the horse.
“No. But I would earn hers.”
Latham Borg would die in the labor camp. He wouldn’t survive the lumber yards with an injured hand. And even if he lived a week, month, or year, he’d never be free. And when he died, his debts would fall on the woman he loved. Borg hadn’t saved her. He’d merely shielded her for the moment.
Eyeing the castle that towered over the city, Grayson knew how that felt. The fatality of it.
Freedom didn’t exist. Not when you cared about someonemore than you cared about yourself. Not when you would do anything to protect someone else.
Latham Borg knew it.
Grayson knew it.
His father, King Henri Kaelin, knew it, and he wielded the knowledge like a weapon. As long as he had in his power the one person Grayson cared about, he kept an invisible blade at Grayson’s throat, ensuring his son’s obedience.
And no matter how much Grayson hated what he had become, he could never risk rebellion.
Chapter 4
Clare
Clare winced at every bounce of the carriage as it clattered down the streets of Iden, headed for the lower city she called home. Her head throbbed from the hit she’d taken from the princess’s large bodyguard and the fitful sleep and tears of last night hadn’t helped. Her neck was bruised and her throat still sore, but she was on her way to see her brothers, and that was all that mattered right now. She was still afraid of her future, but she’d made the only choice she could. She needed to focus on the benefits this would bring her brothers, not the pain it caused her. It was that or drive herself insane with panic and grief.
She wore a borrowed blue dress the commander’s maid, Millie, had thrust at her, and she’d braided her brown hair into a crown, the routine task easing some of her tension. She was as prepared as she was going to be to face her brothers.
During the night, the commander had selected three staff from the castle nursery, which was used by the nobles who lived there. Clare had met the women before dawn, and choosing Mistress Keller had been easy. The matronly woman had kindness in her eyes and a ready smile, assuring Clare her brothers would be well cared for—even loved.
Still, nerves danced in her belly as the carriage rolled to a stop, making her hands twitch in her lap. The carriage was surrounded by a handful of soldiers on horseback, though Clare hadn’t bothered to study them when the commander had herded her to the carriage in dawn’s weak light. Mistress Keller had spent the first part of their journey asking eager questions about Mark and Thomas, until at one point she had pursed her lips and studied Clare thoroughly before asking if she was all right.
Clare had jerked out a nod. As far as Mistress Keller knew, Clare had been hired as one of Princess Serene’s maids. It was a grand position. And even though the woman could not have missed the moisture trapped in Clare’s eyes, Mistress Keller hadn’t pressed her.
Through the small window Clare could see people on the street gawking at the fine carriage and uniformed escort. A carriage from the castle never stopped in Lower Iden.
Horses snorted
