Henri’s eyebrows lifted. “I wouldn’t?”
“You’vekeptheralltheseyearsforareason,”hesaid.“She means something to you. You won’t kill her.”
“YouthinkIhavesomehiddenpurposeinkeepingher?”Henri’s lips slowly bent in an edged smile. “Why do you think I brought her here?”
The question caught him off-guard. “I don’t know.”
“You must have wondered.”
He had. But he couldn’t say anything, not with his father staring at him. He shook his head.
Henri’s eyes narrowed. “Figure it out.”
Grayson ground his teeth. “There’s no reason for her to be here.”
Henri chuckled. The sound was so dark it raised every hair on Grayson’s body. “You’re the Black Hand. The Scourge of Ryden. You’re feared across all of Eyrinthia, and yet you’re ruled by your own fear. Your fear for her.”
Grayson said nothing but a charge thinned the air, making it hard to breathe. He was on the edge of learning something and he knew it was going to be bad.
King Henri leaned forward, eyes sharp as a falcon’s, long fingers splayed against the dark desk. “I knew who you were going to be before you left your mother’s womb. I made you. I know your thoughts. I know each of you better than you know yourselves. Peter follows every command without hesitation because he knows he’ll inherit the domain he’s helping to build. Carter’s only goal is to be in the shadow of greatness—to stand beside the one who will always take care of him. Liam serves me because he thrills at the challenge and Tyrell is addicted to the power he wields. Then there’s you. You serve me because I hold the one thing you care about—the girl.” Henri tilted his head. “Did you really think it was fated?”
Grayson’s pulse kicked. He clutched the arms of his chair, knuckles screaming. Denials ripped through him, but he couldn’t find his voice.
“Youwerestruggling,Grayson,”Henrisaidquietly.“Youweren’t trying to reach your potential and every motivator I tried failed. Praise, pain—none of it meant anything. You needed something to fight for. Someone.”
“No.”Hisbodyvibratedwithtension.“Youdidn’tplanthis.” The brightest and most real part of Grayson’s life couldn’t be the product of his father’s manipulation.
“Why would I arrest a child near your own age? Why give her a cell close to the dungeon entrance?Whyencourage your brothers to turn against you so you would be forced to find sanctuary where I wanted you to?”
Grayson’s chest rose in a sharp inhale. “No.”
“She was small. Weak. Helpless. In need of protection.” Henri grinned. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist her.”
Everything inside Grayson roared, refusing to believe Mia was part of his father’s twisted design. That Henri had brought her here solely for the purpose of controlling him—to force him to become evil. It was impossible. It meant Mia’s life had been ruined because of him. He couldn’t believe it. “You didn’t know I found her,” he said, gritting the words out. “You were angry when you found out I’d befriendedher. You made me burn her doll. You kept me from visiting her!”
“The doll was a test. You must know that by now. Everything with that girl has always been a test. And I kept you from visiting her only so you would be motivated to fight for me.”
Grayson’s ears rang. His grip on the chair was so tight, his fingers were numb.
Mia’s imprisonment had never made sense. She’d been imprisoned at seven years old, for fates-sake. There was no crime she could have committed to merit that.
As a child he’d feared her friendship, thought every kindness was some trick. But Mia would never trick him. No. She was the trick. His father had stolen a little girl from her life, her family—all to manipulate Grayson. He’d dropped Mia in hell, certain Grayson would fight to shield her from the flames.
And he had.
Every part of him rebelled. This was too calculated. Too elaborate and heartless. But hadn’t his father proved his cruelty knew no bounds?
All his life Grayson had been controlled. Tortured. Forced to become the monster his parents wanted him to be. Of every pain he’d suffered, this manipulation cut the deepest. He’d kissed Mia and she was here because of him. She’d lost everything, and it was his fault. His stomach rolled.
“I control you, Grayson, because I control her,” Henri said. “So when I threaten to end her life, I mean it. Her purpose begins and ends with you. If you don’t work as intended, she’s useless to me.”
Fury snapped inside him; he could feel the storm raging in his gray eyes. “I’ll do as you ask. I always have. There’s no need for threats.”
“You’ll do whatever I demand?”
“Yes.”
Henri stood, fingers grazing the desk as he rounded it. There had been no knock on the door, but he barked for someone to enter.
Grayson sprang to his feet, dread knifing his gut.
A guard entered the room, hauling a man inside. The prisoner’s clothes were in tatters, his long gray hair thin and oily. His foul stench snared the room in seconds.
The guard tossed the old man to the floor and the dirty prisoner coughed blood against the carpet, whimpering. “Please,” he rasped. “I beg mercy.”
“Kill him,” Henri said.
Ice bolted down Grayson’s spine.
The king’s eyes narrowed at his hesitation. “Kill him, Grayson.”
It was the doll all over again. It was Mia’s tear-stained face, begging him not to take Tally.
Henri’s lip curled. “I won’t kill the girl this time, but if you hesitate even one more moment, I’ll cut off her hands.”
Bile scorched Grayson’s throat. He knew his father’s words were a promise. His fingers wrapped around the hilt at his waist and he tugged the dagger free.
The old man keened. He tried to scramble away but the guard planted a boot on his back, pinning him to the floor. The man sobbed, tears dripping down his pale, dirt-streaked face. “Please! I beg mercy!”
Grayson grabbed a fistful of the prisoner’s stringy hair and jerked the man’s head back until his bulging neck stretched. Blue eyes swollen with moisture looked right at him.
Murder. That’s what this was. Not killing in self-defense or even an execution. Murder. Grayson’s heart wrenched at the difference.
“Please, no!” the man cried.
