Chapter 17

CHAPTER 17

I tensed, every part of my being focusing on the feel of his hand at my neck. He put no pressure there, but the weight of his hand was warning enough.

The arm still around my waist tightened. Our chests were flush once more as he drew my body against his. I gasped, feeling him against my core. He was still hard. A pounding pulse of sharp desire renewed a throbbing ache, shocking me, because now was so not the time to be feeling any of that.

Prince Thorne’s smile lost some of its coldness. “Please don’t lie, Calista.”

Please.

That word again. My name. Hearing both was unnerving. I didn’t think “please” was something he often said, and it made me want to be truthful, but even if he hadn’t said it, I was smart enough to know that lying now would likely end very badly for me.

Telling the truth was also likely to end badly. I knew Claude wouldn’t send me away, but he could become angry enough that he banished Grady from the manor— from Archwood. But if I lied now, and the Prince reacted in anger? If I screamed and Grady came in? He wouldn’t survive going toe-to-toe with the Prince.

So, it was a no-win situation, except that lying ended in violence, and the truth— or at least a part of it— ended in the loss of security and, at the least, the sense of safety.

I swallowed, knowing I couldn’t endanger Grady. “The Baron was . . . he is worried about your unexpected appearance.”

“Does he have a reason to worry?” Prince Thorne asked.

“He’s apparently behind on his quarterly tithes,” I shared, stomach churning. “He feared that you were sent by the King to collect them.”

His head tilted slightly. “Your baron saw me. Do I look like someone the King would send to collect tithes?”

“No.” I almost laughed, but nothing about this was funny. “But I also don’t think the Baron was in the . . . um, right frame of mind at the moment to recognize who you were.”

“That’s vastly understated.” His fingers began to move at my neck, pressing into the taut muscles there. “He was as high as the mountains of my Court.”

“True,” I whispered.

“So, he sent you to ferret out why I was here,” he surmised. “Instead of waiting till the morning, as I advised?”

“Yes.”

Tension bracketed his mouth, but the motions of his fingers remained gently, oddly soothing. “Are you even a courtesan?”

“Why does that matter?”

“Because it does.”

“It didn’t matter when you led me to believe you were a lord,” I pointed out, which a part of me fully recognized I probably shouldn’t have, but it was absurd and . . . and unfair for him to be questioning me when he too hadn’t exactly been forthcoming.

“We’re not talking about me, na’laa.”

“I have a feeling you’re calling me stubborn instead of brave when you call me that,” I muttered.

“Right now, it’s a mixture of both.” His gaze swept over my features. “Did you have a choice in coming to me tonight?”

“What?”

“Were you forced to come to me tonight?”

His questions knocked me off-kilter. I couldn’t fathom why he’d care if that was the case. “Yes.”

He stared at me for several moments; then his lashes swept down, shielding his eyes. “Your baron is a fool.”

I opened my mouth, but I couldn’t really disagree with that statement. Claude was a fool and so was I for going along with this. My heart pounded unsteadily in the silence that followed. I didn’t know what to expect, but then he let me go. Confused, I remained where I was, my body pressed tightly against his, my hands flattened on his shoulders, and . . . the rigid length of him still nestled against my core.

“You should dry off,” he said quietly.

“You . . . you’re not going to punish me?” I asked.

“Why would I punish you for the idiocy of another?” Those lashes lifted then, and the faintest burst of white was visible in his eyes.

More than a little surprised, I rose on shaky legs, causing water to splash over the sides as I stepped out of the tub. I quickly dried off and then retrieved my robe. Sliding it on, I hastily secured the sash and made sure the pouch had remained in the pocket. If that fell out . . . good gods.

I turned back to the Prince, startled into taking a step back. He’d already left the tub. I hadn’t heard him or a single sound of the water being disturbed. Meanwhile, I’d sounded like a small child splashing in a puddle when I had risen. I picked up a fresh towel, offering it to him.

He didn’t take it.

Instead, his hands went to my throat. I tensed, nearly losing my grip on the towel.

Prince Thorne’s lips quirked as he slipped his hands beneath my hair. His fingers grazed the nape of my neck, sending a series of shivers down my back. I stood there as he . . . as he tugged the heavy length of hair free from the robe.

“There,” he said.

My breath . . . it skipped. Thrown by his gesture, I went completely still again.

“You behave as if you expect violence from me at every turn,” he commented, taking the towel from me. “I know my kind can be . . . unpredictable, but have I behaved in a way that would give you pause?”

I swallowed.

He looked over at me as he drew the towel across his chest. “It’s an honest question.”

“Well, you did take me to the ground that night in the barn and threaten to drown me in your blood.”

“I was not quite aware of myself at that moment.”

“And when I first entered your bedchamber, you held me against a wall,” I continued.

One eyebrow rose. “The bedchamber you entered uninvited and unexpected.”

I shifted my weight from one foot to the next. “You asked why I’d expect violence. Those were just two examples.”

“Just two?” he replied. “There’s more?”

I glanced at the tub. “I did come here under false pretenses.”

“Yes,” he said. “There is that. Are you to speak with the Baron upon leaving my quarters?”

“I’m to meet with him in the morning, before he speaks with you.”

“What will happen if you have no real information to provide him?”

“Nothing.”

He lowered the towel, his stare piercing straight through me. “Na’laa.”

“I do not like that nickname.”

“You would if you knew all the meanings.”

I gritted my teeth as he continued to wait for an answer— for the truth. “He will be . . . disappointed.”

“Will he punish you?”

“No.” I looked away, uncomfortable with the idea that he would think that. Uncomfortable with the fact that I’d expected it from him. “He might not even remember sending me to you, to be honest.” That was unlikely, but there was a sliver of a chance. “He was quite intoxicated.”

A low rumble radiated from the Prince. My gaze shot back to him, my eyes widening. There was nothing remotely human about that sound. It resembled that of a . . . a wolf or something far larger.

“Tell him I’m not here to collect tithes,” he said, turning from me as he drew the towel around his waist. “That I’m here to discuss the situation with the Iron Knights. That should be enough to tide him over until I can speak with him in more detail. Do not tell him you confided in me. I will not speak a word of it.”

My mouth dropped open in shock. His pardon— and that’s what his silence regarding telling him the truth truly was— was unexpected. Yet again, he was unknowingly saving Grady and me.

He nodded, walking from the bathing chamber. “You seem surprised.”

“I suppose I am.” I trailed off, following him. “I didn’t expect you to tell me or . . .” Or for him to cover for me. I cleared my throat. “I also hadn’t expected it to involve the issue with the Iron Knights.” I watched him pour himself a glass of whiskey. He looked back at me, and I shook my head at the offer of a drink. “Is that the kind of information you were seeking when you were here before?” I asked, heart lurching as I thought of Astoria. “Does the King believe that Archwood is somehow sympathetic to the Iron Knights?”

“What I came for before is unrelated to why I’m here now.” He faced me, the towel knotted at his waist and the edges of his hair damp. Tiny drops of water still clung to his chest, drawing my gaze as they traveled down over the dips of his stomach. “And the situation regarding the Iron Knights has changed.”

I started to ask why, but my eyes met his and I fell silent. My skin tingled with awareness. The sense to drop the conversation slammed into me, and this time I listened to it. I glanced around his quarters, my hands going to the sash on the robe. I wanted to thank him for making sure I bore no consequences for what I had taken part in this evening, but I had to choose my words wisely. “I . . . I appreciate you telling me why you have come to Archwood.”

Prince Thorne inclined his head in what I assumed was acknowledgment.

A keen sense of nervousness invaded me as he stared. “If there’s not anything else I can do for you, I should be on my way.”

He stood silent, watching me.

Taking his lack of answer as a good enough response, I gave a quick and terrible curtsy. “Good night, Your Grace.”

He didn’t correct my use of the honorific. He was still quiet, watching me with an expression I couldn’t quite make out. Passing him, I made it to the door of the antechamber.

“Stay.”

I whipped toward him. “Excuse me?”

“Stay,” he repeated, his grip on the glass tightening. “Stay the night with me.”

I opened my mouth, but I found no words. He wanted me to stay? The night with him? I glanced at the bed, stomach clenching and dropping at the same time.

“To sleep,” he added, and my attention swung back to him. My eyes had widened slightly. Cracks had formed in the glass he held. Not deep enough to spill the drink, but I could see the fragile spiderweb-like lines racing throughout the glass. “That is all, na’laa.”

My mind went in two vastly different directions as I stared at him. One part of me couldn’t even believe he was asking for such a thing, because why in the five realms would he want to just sleep with me? The other part of me was foolishly wondering what it was like to sleep beside another who wasn’t Grady, and thinking about that caused the skipping of my breath to repeat itself in my chest and stomach.

And that . . . that was unacceptable for various reasons.

“That I cannot do,” I said.

His head cocked. “Cannot or will not?”

There was a difference between the two. “Cannot” wasn’t a choice. “Will not” was. The problem was I didn’t know which it was.

“Both,” I admitted, shaken. “Good night.”

I didn’t wait. Turning, I left the bedchamber and reached the main door. I turned the handle. It didn’t budge. Frowning, I glanced up, seeing that it was unlocked. What the— ? Prince Thorne. He was stopping me from opening the door. I stiffened, feeling his intense stare on my back, and for a wild moment, a wicked thrill went through me, leaving me breathless. The idea that he’d stopped me sent a hot, tight shiver through me.

I didn’t want him to let me go.

That damnable feeling— the one of belonging with him— surged through me, and dear gods, there truly was something wrong with me.

My hands flattened against the wood. In my chest, my heart raced. Then the door cracked open beneath my palms. He was letting me go. Something akin to . . . to disappointment flashed through me, leaving me even more confused, with him— with myself.

“All right, I’m officially . . . flabbergasted.” The soft glow from the lamp near the bed I sat upon lit Grady’s profile. He sat on the edge of my bed, his sword resting against the chest at the foot of the bed, more relaxed after most of his anger at learning that the special guest hadn’t been expecting me had passed.

“Flabbergasted?”

“Dumbfounded and every other unnecessary adjective you can think of. The Prince of Vytrus came to discuss the Iron Knights? Who wouldn’t be surprised.” Grady dragged a hand over his face. “And you’re sure he’s not going to say something to the Baron about you telling him the truth?”

“I’m pretty sure.” I tipped my head back. It was late, about an hour after I’d left Prince Thorne’s chambers. I’d just finished telling Grady what had happened— well, not everything. I didn’t want to traumatize him with unnecessary details. “But I can’t know for sure since I can’t read him. I tried several times to get inside his head, but I couldn’t.”

He scratched at the faint growth of hair along his cheek. “You have to tell the Baron that you got the information at least partly that way, though. If he thinks the Prince simply told you because you asked, he’s not going to believe you.”

“I know.” Which meant I really hoped Prince Thorne held to what he said, and that he wouldn’t speak a word of it.

Tugging the edges of the black robe— my robe, one made of comfortable cotton that wasn’t transparent— around me, I smothered a yawn as silence filled the large, fairly empty chamber.

There wasn’t much to the immaculate space. A wardrobe. The bed. A settee near the terrace doors. A nightstand and chest. The antechamber, though, was outfitted with more than the necessities— a deep-seated settee and chairs arranged upon a thick plush rug of ivory chenille, a small dining table and credenza made of white oak, and various odds and ends the Baron had gifted over the years. The space was beautiful, well maintained, and leagues above any other place I’d have ever slept in, but it wasn’t home.

I wanted it to feel like that.

I’d yet to know what that even felt like, but I thought it would be a lot like what I felt when I was in the gardens, my fingers sunk deep in the soil, and my mind quiet. There was a sense of belonging there. Peace.

“You were with this prince for a while.” Grady tentatively broached what he’d yet to bring up.

My toes curled against the sheet. “Not that long.”

“Long enough.”

Stay the night with me.My stomach made that idiotic dipping motion again. I shook my head. Why in the world did he want me to stay the night with him? I wasn’t sure I had pleased him beyond providing a release. Except, he had said I’d interested him, enthralled him.

“What happened?” Grady prodded.

Immediately, the memory of the Prince and me in that damn bathtub flashed in my mind. His hands on me. His finger inside me. Holding me. And it was the last bit that stuck with me. The holding me part. I dragged my teeth over my lip as I swallowed. “Not much.”

“Lis . . .”

“Grady?”

A muscle ticked at his temple. “You can talk to me about anything. You know that. So, if something happened that’s got you feeling— ”

“Nothing happened that I didn’t allow to happen,” I cut in.

“That’s the thing, though.” Grady scooted closer. “You didn’t really choose to go to him tonight, now did you? You felt like you had to, so were you ever in the position to not allow whatever it was that happened?”

I wiggled a little, discomfited with that being the second time I’d been asked that question. “He gave me a choice, and I did choose to go to him— something we’ve already established.”

Grady stared at me as if I had sprouted a third eye in the center of my forehead.

“Seriously. He gave me a choice in what we did— and we didn’t have sex,” I told him. “And so what if we had? I’m not a virgin, Grady.”

His lips curled, and though I couldn’t see the flush in his brown skin, I knew it was there. “I really didn’t need to know that but thank you for sharing.”

“You’re welcome.” Dipping my chin, I giggled at the glare he sent me. “He really did give me a choice, Grady, and I get that the whole idea of me wanting to do anything that I did is a complicated mess. Trust me. I know, but . . .” I thought of what Naomi had once told me when I confided in her that I sometimes enjoyed it when Claude sent me to find out information for him. Few things are black-and-white, Lis. Most of life exists in that messy gray area in between, but if you wanted what was happening— you enjoyed it and so did the other— then there’s nothing wrong, she’d said. Anyone who tells you different either hasn’t been where you’ve been or they’re just living a different life. Doesn’t make either of you right or wrong. I exhaled slowly. “But this Hyhborn . . . he’s different.”

“Different how?”

I shrugged.

“They’re all the same, Lis. Nice to look at and charming on the outside but demented assholes on the inside. Just because one of them made sure you didn’t get hurt and didn’t compel you into doing something against your will doesn’t mean they can be trusted, especially this one. You know what has been said about the Prince of Vytrus.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” He raised his brows. “He led the army that laid siege to Astoria.”

I found myself nodding again, but it was difficult reconciling the Prince Thorne I knew with the one who had been spoken about for years. Then again, I didn’t really know the Prince, did I?

But that didn’t feel right.

It did feel like I knew him, and he did seem different from what we knew of the Hyhborn, even before I knew his name. When I saw him in the gardens and farther back? My mind went all the way to the night in Union City. “There’s something I haven’t told you,” I began. “We’ve met this Hyhborn before.”

Grady stared at me for a moment, then sat straighter. His brown eyes widened the moment he clearly realized what I was speaking of. “Union City?”

I nodded.

He leaned back, then pitched forward. “And you’re just now telling me?”

I winced. “I just . . . I don’t know why I didn’t say anything earlier.”

“That’s a shit excuse, Lis.”

“It’s not meant to be one at all,” I told him. “I’m sorry. I should’ve said something before.”

He looked away. “It’s not that one who grabbed me, is it?”

“Good gods, no. It was the other one,” I assured him, frowning as I realized then that Prince Thorne had also led the Mister to believe he was a lord that night. “He hasn’t recognized me, by the way.”

Grady seemed to let that bit of news sink in. “Are you sure it was him?”

I shot him a look. “It’s really annoying when people ask me that question.”

He held up his hand. “Of course you’re sure. I was just asking because that’s . . . that’s a hell of a coincidence.”

It was, except I didn’t believe in coincidences, and neither did Grady.

Grady became silent as his gaze trailed to the terrace doors. Some time passed before he spoke. “I think about that night a lot, you know? Trying to figure out why the Hyhborn were there in the first place. They were looking for someone— like one of their own? Like a caelestia or something?”

“Maybe.” It wasn’t impossible, I supposed. Claude and Hymel were several generations removed from whatever Hyhborn they descended from, but I imagined there were ones born recently. Though I had no idea if the Hyhborn cared for that child or not. I didn’t know if any caelestias lived in their Courts.

“I have something I want to talk about that you’re not going to like,” Grady started after a moment.

“What?”

Grady took a deep breath, and I tensed, because I had a feeling that this was going to be a conversation that we’d had before. One that would add yet another thing for me to worry about. “We don’t have to stay here,” he began, and yep, I was right.

“Yes, we do.” I shoved the blanket off my legs, already feeling my body heat.

“No, we don’t. There are other cities, other territories— ”

“And what would we do in these other places that would be better than this?” I challenged, scooting off the bed. I needed to be standing for this conversation. “Do you think you can get a position like this— one that not only pays you but gives you shelter? Nice shelter at that?” I began pacing. “A job that doesn’t require you risking your life every day, like the miners or the long hunters do?”

Grady clamped his jaw shut.

“And what will I do? Go back to playing fortune teller at markets, risking being called a conjurer? Or find work in some tavern, where I’m likely to be on the menu along with ale that tastes like horse piss?”

“And you’re not on the menu now?” he fired back. “To be sampled by whoever, whenever?”

“I’m on the menu because I want to be.” My hands balled into fists. “And I’m not even really on the menu. I’m like a barely chosen . . . appetizer.”

Grady stared at me, his brows climbing. “What . . . the fuck?”

“Okay, that was a poor analogy, but you know what I mean. We have it made here, Grady. Gods.” Frustration rose. “You really aren’t even planning to ask Claude about apprenticing to the blacksmith, are you?”

“Honest? I don’t give a fuck about apprenticing to the Baron’s blacksmith.”

I slammed my eyes shut. “Grady, you’re good at that. You actually enjoy it— ”

“Yes, I am good at it and I do enjoy it, but I’d rather use my talent forging weapons for the Iron Knights than for some fuck-boy caelestia.”

“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.”

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?