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Peter didn’t look surprised. He’d already known.
Of course he had.
Henri glanced at Tyrell. “What do you think?”
Tyrell stood across the table from Grayson. He hadn’t said a word, and his face was an inscrutable mask. “It’s an impressive force. Why wasn’t I told?”
“You didn’t need to know,” Henri said.
Tyrell’s expression tightened, just a little. “I’m in charge of training your soldiers.”
“Yes. But you couldn’t personally train them all. The men you’ve been training for the last year have made their way here, and elsewhere, to train others using your methods. But I would like you to assist now in training the boys.”
Tyrell’s mouth flattened. “Most of them couldn’t even lift a sword.”
“I expect you to change that.” Henri braced his hands on the table and leaned all his weight on his arms. “They don’t need to be elite. The sight of them alone will confuse an enemy and pull on their compassion. Then, with their guard lowered at a critical time, those boys have a chance of killing at least one enemy before they’re put down. You’ll teach them how to do that.”
Grayson watched Tyrell closely, but his sadistic brother merely nodded. There was no spark of glee or anticipation, like Grayson would have once expected. In fact, there was no emotion at all.
Henri regarded them all. “Nothing spoken here will leave this room. Is that understood?”
They all murmured assent.
Henri pushed off the table, his golden crown glinting in the light from the nearest window. “My entire reign has built to this moment. You have been prepared for this all your lives. There is no room for failure. No place for hesitation or doubt. It is finally time for the great war. What my father once failed to do, I will now accomplish.”
His eyes slid to Grayson as he continued. “Liam’s death creates some issues, but we will adapt. For now, I want you to focus on your individual tasks. Each of you has been assigned an army to command. An experienced commander will serve at your side, butyouare the standard the people will gather under. Your names are legend, and it is in your names that the soldiers will fight for me and for Ryden. Be sure they fight well.”
Unmistakable warning lived in those words.
Henri continued. “The commanders you will serve with have been training the majority of your forces. You will meet them after we’re done here. The attacks will, of course, focus on Devendra and Mortise. I had planned to leave Zennor for now, but Peter has some designs for Zennor that have intrigued me.”
Grayson's eyes slid to Peter, the fine hairs on his body rising. He knew Peter had planned to marry Imara, but was he planning other things? Regardless, Grayson had been right to warn Imara; Peter might send someone else to abduct her, since Grayson hadn’t done it for him.
Henri was still speaking. “When the war is won, Peter will sit on Devendra’s throne under my leadership as High King of Eyrinthia. When the day comes that he’s needed back in Ryden, his future son will take over the Devendran throne.”
The king looked at Carter. “I want you to lead a second army into Devendra, entering here.” He tapped a map, showing another mountain pass to the west of Dolbar. “Your targets will be the military outposts here, and here, which will also secure the Devendran-Mortisian border. When these battles are won, Zennor will crumble easily. You will reign as king, answering only to me.”
Carter’s eyes glittered.
Henri shifted his gaze to Grayson. “You will lead the attack on Mortise by ship. Your focus will be Duvan. You will take the heart of Mortise and secure the coastal strongholds while Tyrell will lead another army over land, hitting Mortise here, here, and here.” His finger drew back from the cities he’d highlighted, looking at his two youngest sons. “Both of you will have a chance to prove your worth to me, and to Ryden. The one who serves me best will reign over Mortise.”
Tyrell stood a little straighter. They had been raised on competition, and Henri had just presented the biggest prize yet: a kingdom.
Grayson didn’t move, and his expression remained unchanged. He wouldn’t have wanted to be a ruler, even if he wasn’t planning to escape.
“There is another prize of sorts,” Henri said, and when he began to smile, Grayson's stomach dropped. “I have held in reserve a bit of leverage I can use over the Mortisians—their ruler, in particular. It has been a closely guarded secret and will continue to be so. But it is time all of you knew of her.”
Grayson’s mouth ran dry.No, no, no . . .
Tyrell had stilled completely, his gaze fixed on Henri.
“Her?” Peter asked, his brow furrowed.
Henri’s attention moved between Grayson and Tyrell. “I have in my possession the youngest princess of Mortise, Meerah Cassian. She has been thought dead for nearly a decade, but in reality, she has been my prisoner.”
Grayson's pulse thundered, but still his expression was locked. He didn’t know how to react. His father was watching him, clearly reveling in divulging this revelation. He didn’t know Grayson already knew the truth.
Tyrell didn’t seem to be breathing.
