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My breath caught. “Think about what, exactly?”
“Leaving here.”
“Grady—”
“I know of a place,” he cut in. “It’s a town in the Eastlands.”
Slowly, I twisted toward him. I heard the name of the city whispered in my mind before he even spoke it. “Cold Springs.” Then I heard more, and it terrified me. “You’re talking about a town,” I said, lowering my voice to a whisper, “that is basically becoming a stronghold for rebels. A town that will inevitably end up like Astoria? You think there’ll be a futurethere?”
“You don’t know that.” His eyes narrowed as his shoulders went rigid. “Unless youdoknow that.”
“I don’t know that as in I’ve seen this town get destroyed, but I don’t need special gifts to know that will eventually happen.”
Grady relaxed. “Maybe not. Maybe Beylen will make sure it doesn’t.”
Shaking my head, I let out a short, rough laugh. “You have a lot of faith in someone you’ve never met and who’s only succeeded in making a lot of people homeless or dead.”
“It isn’t different from any of those who have faith in a king they’ve never met,” he pointed out. “Who hasn’t done a damn thing for the lowborn.”
Well, he was right about that. I folded my arms over my waist as I pressed my toes against the floor. He was right about a lot of stuff when it came to the Hyhborn and how the realm was ruled. It wasn’t like I hadn’t thought these things myself, but Grady wasn’t just suggesting that we leave Archwood. He was suggesting that we leave to join the rebellion, which would likely put us in a worse position than we’d ever experienced before. Even if I couldn’t see it, the chances it would end in our deaths were high. “Would we be having this conversation if Claude hadn’t summoned me tonight?”
“Eventually,” Grady said. “But it sure as hell makes now seem like a better time than ever. What’s going on in the Westlands? The Prince of fucking Vytrus being here?”
I looked at him. “The Prince . . . he’s different,” I repeated.
“And what makes you think that, Lis? Honestly?”
“Well, starting with what he did to the Mister.”
“Thatmakes you think he’s different?” Grady coughed out a short laugh. “Lis, he left the Mister looking like a gods-damn human pretzel.”
I cringed. “I wasn’t talking about that. He— Prince Thorne— he asked about the bruises on my arms.”
“What?”
“Mister’s pinching. It always left bruises— ”
“Yeah, I remember that fucker always pinching you,” Grady cut in. “But what do you mean by the Prince asking about that?”
Frowning, I looked over at him. His expression mirrored mine. “That night? After he looked into my eyes, he glanced down at my arms and asked how I got them.”
Grady stared at me, his brows inching up his forehead.
“You don’t remember?”
“I remember everything about that night— even when I couldn’t move a damn muscle or blink an eye.” His jaw tightened. “What I do not remember is that prince asking you that.”
“But he did. He saw them and asked what had caused them. I didn’t answer but I glanced at the Mister. That’s why he did that to . . .” I trailed off. “Are you serious? You really didn’t hear him ask that?”
“Yeah, Lis, I’m serious. I didn’t hear him say anything of the sort, and I was right there.”
I opened my mouth, but I didn’t know what to say as I sat back. I knew that I’d heard him. That he had spoken to me as he held my arm, and then he’d put his fingers to his lips and grinned, but how could Grady not have heard him?
And how could I have?
CHAPTER 18
Between everything that had happened with Prince Thorne and what I’d discussed with Grady afterward, I didn’t think I’d be able to rest. Especially with how my mind kept going back and forth on whether I had actually heard Prince Thorne’s voice all those years ago or it was just a product of a scared child’s imagination. The latter seemed the likeliest explanation, but was also one that didn’t sit right with me.
