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Chapter 32
Grayson
GraysonandMiawererepacking their bags in the gray light of early morning when there was a knock on the door. Grayson opened it, unsurprised to see Jon, the innkeeper. He didn’t look half as pleasant as he had during the village party last night.
“I’ve come for tomorrow’s rent,” Jon said, just as he did every morning before he left for his shift at the logging camp. His eyes slid over the packs on the bed, and he frowned. “You leaving?”
“Yes.” Grayson shifted slightly, putting himself in front of Mia. Shielding her was an instinct he didn’t think he’d ever lose.
Jon grunted. “Very well. Your payment is settled, so long as you leave before tonight.”
Grayson nodded, still holding the handle on the door. He was ready to close it, but Jon hadn’t backed out yet.
Mia’s voice drifted from behind him. “Thank you for giving us a place to stay,” she said to the innkeeper. “You’ve been very kind.”
The man blinked, clearly surprised by her words. “You’ve paid well,” he said simply. Then his expression relaxed a little. “And you’ve treated my boys well. Thank you for that.”
“They’re good boys,” Mia said.
“They are.” There was a short pause, then Jon dipped his head. “Safe travels.” He turned to go.
“Wait.” Mia came to stand beside Grayson, halting him before he could close the door. As if she could feel his sudden tension at having her come closer to Jon, she laid a comforting hand on Grayson’s arm. “Jon, you need to keep a close watch over your sons.”
The innkeeper’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“We’ve heard stories . . .” Mia looked to Grayson, silently asking for his help.
He wouldn’t have chosen to take this risk, but now that she’d started, all he could see was Keegan and his brothers being dragged into the king’s child-army. He forced his stiff jaw to loosen and focused on Jon. “The king is taking men and boys from their homes. He’s training them to be soldiers. Boys even younger than Keegan.”
Jon’s expression darkened. “Is this rumor, or fact?”
“Fact. I’ve seen it.”
Fear, shock, anger—it all flashed through the man’s eyes. “Thank you for the warning,” he finally said, his voice a little hoarse.
“Perhaps you could flee Ryden,” Mia said.
“As you’re doing?” When they didn’t answer, he shook his head. “Even if I had the means, there’s nowhere to go. No other kingdom wants us. They—”
Footsteps pounded up the stairs and Timothy skidded into view. “Papa!” he hissed. “Soldiers are riding into town!”
The already tense air became thick.
Jon cursed. “The tax collectors are early. Find your brothers—I’ll hide the chest.”
Timothy darted off obediently, and his father was right behind him.
Grayson strode to the window, which overlooked the village’s main street. In the pre-dawn light, he spotted the horses riding toward the town’s center. He counted quickly; fifteen soldiers, but sixteen men.
Tobin, the physician, was riding with them. And as Grayson watched, he lifted an arm to point at the inn.
Fates.
“Mia, get the bags.”
She didn’t hesitate to shove their items into the packs, all thoughts of organization gone.
Grayson palmed some of his daggers, hurrying to sheathe them. “We’ll go out the back,” he told her.
