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Renabroughtdinnertothe room as usual. She prepared Mia for bed, and then she made a show of retiring for the night, in case anyone was watching them. Fletcher went with her, as he usually did. Grayson dismissed the night guard, just as he had last night. Mia recognized the guard as one of Tyrell’s men, and she knew the dismissal would be reported to him. Tyrell would have no idea that tonight would be different, though.
Mia was terrified of what the night might bring. Her only consolation was that they all knew to meet at Porynth Harbor, in case something went wrong. Grayson had told them the location over dinner, along with the name of their ship: theSeafire.
Nerves danced in Mia’s belly, apprehension making her feel a little sick as she settled her thick cloak over her shoulders.
Grayson had foregone wearing his cloak. His longsword was secured at his hip, along with the rest of his daggers—two of which he’d carefully packed in his bag, warning Mia that the blades were coated in poison. He wore his signature black clothing, though he’d left his leather gloves on his desk. The blatant placement almost felt like a message to his father, or his family—or perhaps it was for himself.
He was done being the Black Hand.
Grayson hadn’t said much throughout the day as they’d both packed. To be fair, Mia hadn’t had much to say, either. Tension was thick in the air as they’d made the final preparations for their escape. She’d watched him surreptitiously as he’d picked through his things, choosing to shove only a few items in his pack. She understood the necessity of packing lightly; she’d be leaving behind books Grayson had given her, as well as sketches and paintings she’d done over the years.
Carefully folding a spare dress, she’d asked, “Will you miss anything?”
He had blinked, almost as if he’d forgotten she was in the room. “What?”
“Will you miss anything here? The things you’ll have to leave behind?” This was his home, as horrible as it had often been.
He met her gaze, his gray eyes sure. “No. None of it matters—not as long as I have you.”
Her heart warmed. “I feel the same.”
He smiled gently, and they continued packing.
“I am sorry about leaving your horse, though.”
He glanced over at her, clearly surprised. “Why?”
“I visited him often while you were gone. He . . . calmed me. He made me feel closer to you.” Her head tipped to the side. “Why didn’t you name him?”
Grayson seemed even more surprised by this question, but he still answered. “Naming him would have shown that I cared about him.”
And that could have made the horse a target to the other Kaelins.
“Did you ever name him in your mind?” she asked.
“I thought of him asHorsesometimes.”
She pulled a face. “You can’t call himHorse.”
His eyes sparked with mirth. “Do you have a name in mind, then?”
Mia nodded. “Vehrin Varah.”
His brow furrowed. “It’s Mortisian, but I don’t know what it means.”
“The closest translation is ‘gentle soul’.” Her cheeks warmed with sudden embarrassment. “I know it doesn’t sound fierce, but he seemed that way to me. Soulful, kind, and valiant.”
Grayson’s expression softened. “It’s a perfect name for him, Mia. Thank you.”
There was an undercurrent of regret in his voice, and she instantly felt bad. “I’m sorry if this makes leaving him harder.”
He shook his head. “I’m not sorry. He deserves a name.”
Not that the horse would ever hear it.
Mia shook off the memory of that conversation. The present needed her focus, now.
It was time to go.
