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Mia’s throat burned.
The whole fight had lasted mere moments, but adrenaline still shot through her veins. Instinct screamed danger, even though Grayson was the only one standing over her.
Grayson, who had killed six men tonight without hesitation. One, his own brother.
Grayson’s jaw stiffened. He bent and retrieved his longsword, which must have fallen, and he hurried to sheathe it. Then he reached out a hand—the one not holding the bloody dagger. “We need to go. Someone will have heard.”
She stared at his outstretched hand, then her gaze flickered up to his gray eyes. There was no regret. No pain. No fear. Nothing but resolve.
Her lungs burned. When she hauled in a breath, her whole body shuddered.
Grayson’s mouth pressed into a line. He grasped her left hand and pulled her to her feet. She gripped his fingers, her body shaking. Concern was now etched into his hard face. “Are you hurt?”
Her chin was wet. She touched it, and her fingertips came away bloody. Some of the spray from Carter’s blood. She swallowed hard, her stomach convulsing. “No.” She wasn’t entirely sure what she was denying. She wanted to deny everything she’d seen over the last few minutes, beginning with Devon’s death.
Grayson squeezed her hand. She thought he wanted to say something—comfort her, or defend what he’d done—but instead he sheathed his dagger, still streaked red, and pulled her back to their dropped bags. He snatched them both up, and then he moved for the gate.
Mia averted her eyes from Devon’s body.
Grayson paused only to grab Devon’s pack, which was lying on the ground nearby, and then he dragged open the gate. It protested with a metallic squeal that made Grayson wince.
Once outside the castle walls, his hand still wrapped around hers, they ran toward the dark edge of the forest.
Mia hoped it would be deep enough to swallow them.
Chapter 15
Tyrell
Tyrellprowleddownthedarkened corridor, his hands clenched at his sides. Fear, denial, grief, hurt—all of that swirled in his gut, but it was too much to process. Too much tofeel. So he focused on the strongest emotion: rage.
Grayson and Mia had been gone for an hour now, and every moment that passed felt like a blade twisting in his heart.
Peter had pounded on his door, jerking him from sleep. He’d spoken tersely, giving him just enough details to make Tyrell’s head spin.
His head was still spinning.
He’d been given orders, and he’d obeyed, even though all he wanted to do was tear out of here.
Grayson had taken Mia.
Movement at the end of the hall caught his eye. Peter was prowling toward him, both of them silently arriving at the king’s study at the same time.
Peter entered first, and Tyrell was right behind him.
Their father stood behind his desk, his hands planted on the smooth surface, his arms braced. His entire body trembled, and when he lifted his head to face his sons, Tyrell stiffened at the fury burning in his eyes. “Close the door.”
Tyrell did as ordered. It was just the three of them in the room. Iris was with Carter’s body.
Tyrell had never seen his mother exhibit raw emotion, but when Carter’s lifeless body had been uncovered . . . The Poison Queen had gripped the edge of that table, and she had screamed.
Peter gave his report without prompting. “We have no direct witnesses, but from what I’ve learned, Grayson killed seven men tonight; Carter, one castle guard, the four guards at the gate, and a physician named Devon.”
Tyrell’s blood chilled. “Devon is dead?”
“Yes.” Peter glanced at him. “I’m not sure if Grayson killed him or not, because the physician’s death was different than the others. His body was staged; he was left hanging on the gate.”
The image was horrifying. To know Mia had seen it—possibly even witnessed his death—made Tyrell grind his teeth. He didn’t know Devon well enough to truly mourn him, but Mia would be devastated by his death.
