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But the pain eased.
He found Devon’s office rather easily. It was tucked in a high tower in the physician’s ward, and a guard easily directed him.
Grayson knocked on the closed door, and it soon swung open. “Prince Grayson,” Devon said. “Come in.”
The room was small, and a bit cluttered. A bag was on the unmade bed in the corner, with clothes stacked around it.
“You shouldn’t let anyone else see you packing,” Grayson said.
Devon closed the door. “Fair point.” He stepped around Grayson and flicked a blanket over the pack and clothing. Then he faced Grayson, his expression carefully neutral. “I know you see me as the weak link.”
The unexpected words made Grayson stare.
Devon crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not Fletcher; you haven’t known me for half your life. But I’ve been taking care of Mia for years. I’m loyal to her.”
“I know.” If he hadn’t been, Grayson would have killed him last night.
Devon let out a slow breath. “You don’t remember me, do you?”
Confusion swirled inside him, and he frowned.
The physician smiled faintly. He looked oddly resigned. “It’s all right. It was a long time ago. You were maybe five years old. You were hurt. You came to the ward, and I helped you, even though all of the physicians were ordered not to attend the princes unless it was a matter of life and death.” He shook his head slowly. “You were a little boy, and you were in pain. I was incapable of turning my back. Of course, the king found out.”
“He didn’t kill you.” The statement was somehow a question.
“No, but he made an example of me. And his punishment was . . . fitting.” Devon’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. “He disliked my compassion, and he wanted to rob me of it—or at least make me suffer for it. He demoted me to the prison, where I’ve spent years tending the people he tortures. And while I’ve eased some of their suffering, I have watched many more die. Taking care of Mia . . . that has been my only true reprieve. I would do anything for her.”
Grayson didn’t question the man’s devotion. He didn’t particularly like how strongly people seemed to feel for Mia—especially when that person was Tyrell—but he couldn’t deny that Mia was just that way. Anyone who spent time with her became devoted to her. Including Devon, apparently.
The man’s chin lowered. “I tell you this so you know I’m loyal to both of you, so long as you have no designs against her.”
Grayson had no idea how the conversation had turned to this—Devon, needing reassurance ofhisloyalty to Mia—but he answered honestly. “Mia means everything to me. I would cut my own throat before harming her.”
Devon nodded, and that was the end of it. He turned to a side table, which was riddled with bottles, small mixing bowls, and a chipped mortar and pestle. He lifted a small leather pouch and handed it to Grayson, the drawstrings tightly closed. “I mixed more powder for you. Olcain is hard to obtain, but I raided the ward last night. I forgot to warn you, but there is a possibility of severe headaches as the drug leaves your body. If that happens, resist the urge to take more to treat the headaches—they are a sign that your body is relying on the drug too much. Now, you should take more before we begin the cleaning.”
Grayson nearly told him that he’d already taken some in the corridor. But the pain was still there, and he couldn’t afford to let his body betray him. Mia needed him strong, now more than ever. So he took another pinch of the powder, and Devon got to work.
Peter ambushed Grayson on his way back to Mia.
The oldest Kaelin prince didn’t actually manage to surprise him, he just appeared suddenly before him. And with Carter at his side, he issued a sharp order. “Follow me.”
Grayson wanted to refuse, but a fight wasn’t worth the effort, and he didn’t want to risk rousing suspicion.
He trailed after his brothers, moving to a rarely-used sitting room on the first floor of the castle. Once inside, Carter remained by the closed door, and Grayson followed Peter to the center of the room. When Peter abruptly twisted to face him, Grayson’s dulled senses couldn’t react in time. Peter’s fist slammed against his freshly cleaned burn.
The blinding pain sent Grayson to his knees. A ragged gasp echoed in the room. His entire face throbbed, despite the potent drug that swam through his veins. He felt a trickle of blood from where Peter’s ring had dug into the raw, freshly cleaned cut. The agony was indescribable; he couldn’t breathe.
“Stay on your knees,” Peter said evenly.
Grayson’s ears rang. His vision wavered, then came into sharp focus. His fingers dug into the simple braided rug. Nausea swam in his gut, but he forced himself to breathe through it. And as he did, he felt the heat of his rage. A fury that he’d forced down far too many times. He knew he couldn’t risk retaliating; Mia wasn’t safe, yet. But something in his very soul refused to stay down.
Not this time.
He rose slowly, uncurling from the floor until he stood before Peter, stretched to his full height. His brother was the oldest Kaelin prince, but he was the shortest; he had to look up slightly to meet Grayson’s gaze.
Surprise flickered through Peter’s eyes, followed by a flash of fear.
Menace and threat both emanated from Grayson, but he said nothing. Did nothing. Just glared at Peter, his fists clenched at his sides.
