Total pages in book: 163
Estimated words: 152616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 763(@200wpm)___ 610(@250wpm)___ 509(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 152616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 763(@200wpm)___ 610(@250wpm)___ 509(@300wpm)
“Grady,” I gasped, eyes flying open as I crossed the short distance between us. “My gods, will you please stop saying stuff like that? Especially now? When the Prince of Vytrus is here to discuss them?”
“I’m not worried about that when it comes to him.”
“Really?” I challenged.
“Really.” He glared up at me. “Look, I know it freaks you out when I talk about the Iron Knights, but damn it, you can’t tell me that you’re happy here. That you’re happy with all of this.” He swept his arm out. “And I’m not just talking about this manor and the Baron, but the way we lived. The way we’ve had to live.”
“Oh my gods.” I pressed my hands to my face.
“And I know you’re not. I know you think the same way I do about the Hyhborn— that they do nothing for us lowborn,” he said, and I peeked between my fingers, seeing his nostrils flared with anger. “You know, one day I’d like to marry.”
I lowered my hands to my sides.
“And maybe have a kid or two,” he continued. “But why the fuck would I do that? Why would I want to bring a child into this world? There’s no real opportunity for that kid to be anything of value when the Hyhborn control everything— who can get an education, who can own land— ” He cut himself off. “They’ll just keep putting caelestias like the Baron in control, and yeah, I know he’s not that bad, but I could spend all night naming others who would be better suited but would never get the chance. We are basically just cattle for them, working in the mines, feeding them, keeping the realm running, and for what? So yeah, we have it better than we did before, but we don’t have it good, Lis. None of us do.”
“I . . .” I lifted my shoulders, but the weight of his words— of the truth— pulled them back down. I went to the bed and sat beside him. “I don’t know what to say.”
“You can just think about it, you know.”
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 future there?”
“You don’t know that.” His eyes narrowed as his shoulders went rigid. “Unless you do know 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.”
“That makes 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.”