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Henri watched him closely. “You’ve interacted with the physician. During that confrontation, do you think he would have been loyal to Carter or Grayson?”
“His loyalty would have been to Mia.” There was no question of that in his mind. But who had killed Devon? Carter, because he saw a traitor aiding in Mia’s escape? Or Grayson, because Devon had tried to prevent him from taking Mia into such reckless danger?
Peter made a sound in his throat, and Tyrell did not like the calculation—or the appreciation—that flared in his eyes. “Mia is small, but she’s not one to underestimate, is she?”
Henri frowned at his eldest son. “What else did you learn from interrogating the guards?”
“The first ones to reach the scene immediately sent men to trail Grayson and Mia, and it looks like they headed for the woods, not the city. I sent men to pursue them.”
Henri’s dark gaze shifted to Tyrell, silently demanding his report.
As soon as Tyrell had been told about Grayson’s escape, he’d been ordered to track down the Fletchers. His eyes narrowed. “Alun and Rena Fletcher are gone. They borrowed two horses from the stables and left through the main gate during the changing of the guard. They told the night guards they were visiting a friend in Lenzen, but they didn’t specify who. I have men searching for them.”
Henri said nothing.
Peter and Tyrell followed the king’s lead, and silence burned the air around them. The quiet was dangerous, because it left Tyrell to his thoughts. Gave more space for his encroaching panic.
Grayson had taken Mia. She was gone. Not only that, she was with Grayson, who was so far gone in his rebellion that he had recklessly endangered her life tonight. He’d run away from the castle. He’d deserted Henri—deserted all of them. He may have killed Devon, for fates’ sake, and he’d ruthlessly murdered Carter, who was the weakest of them all. Tyrell had seen the deep cut across Carter’s throat; there was no sign of indecision, no sign of reluctance. Only brutal efficiency.
Grayson could have subdued Carter in any number of ways, but he’d chosen to kill him. That was a line none of them had ever crossed. Not Tyrell, even in his darkest moments. Not even Henri or Iris had killed their own blood.
But Grayson had.
His brother had snapped. Tyrell had seen the change in him, sensed the danger, but even he had not anticipated this.
Grayson had thrown his rebellion in Henri’s face in the most flagrant, brutal way possible. And he’d dragged Mia into it.
“How did Carter know Grayson would try to escape?” Henri asked, his voice nothing more than a whisper. “How did he know which gate to watch?”
Peter’s jaw tensed. “Mother told me she asked Carter to keep an eye on Grayson. Apparently, Carter offered gold to several guards in the castle to spy on Grayson and Mia, as well as those who have been closely affiliated with the girl—the Fletchers and Devon. There were reports of Rena Fletcher gathering extra clothing from the laundry, and the guards at the back gate noticed Devon lurking during the afternoon.” He paused. “We’ll probably never know if Devon decided to warn Carter of Grayson’s plan, or if the physician intended to leave with Grayson and Mia. What we do know is that Carter paid the night guards to leave the gate, and he set a trap with his own men.”
“He was a fool,” Henri said, his tone low and unreadable.
Tyrell and Peter exchanged a short look.
Henri pushed away from the desk, his voice rising as he continued. “Carter has long wanted to prove himself, but he was ill-prepared. He should have told us what he suspected. Fatesblast it!” He pounded the desk and Tyrell barely stopped his flinch.
That fury . . . it was aimed at Grayson, but it would touch Mia. Of course it would.
His stomach pitched.
Peter’s voice was cool. “They can’t have gotten far. We’ll find them.”
“Alive,” Henri hissed. “I want them both alive.” He looked to Tyrell. “You will lead the hunt.”
Tyrell straightened. “As you order.”
“Why bother to keep Grayson alive now?” Peter asked. “He’s a rabid dog who should be put down. Surely we can’t trust him again—not after this. He killed Carter. Fates, he may have even killed Liam in Mortise. He must be executed.”
“I am king,” Henri ground out. “And Iwant himalive.”
Peter inclined his head. “Yes, Sire.”
“I’ll need more men,” Tyrell said. “We must spread out.” There were a thousand directions Grayson might go. The forest was wide and deep.
“Take as many as you need,” the king said. “Just find them. Grayson knows far too much, and they are both infinitely valuable to me.”
Peter looked to Tyrell. “You should search Grayson’s room. There may be clues about his plan, or at least his destination.”
