By: JENNIFER L. ARMENTROUT   
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 sh*t 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 f*ck?”
“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 f*ck 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 f*ck-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 f*ck 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.”
