“Okay,”I repeat.
Graylen counts down, and all at once, my eyes spring open and I reach for my dagger. I jump to my feet, feeling Graylen doing the same beside me.
At the exact moment we stand and my vision adjusts to the dim lighting in the barn, the doors across from us burst open. Castle guards pour in—fifteen, maybe twenty men—all in armor and brandishing gold-hilted swords.
Their chest pieces all bear the same mark: the royal crest.
Well, there goes our element of surprise.
Fifty-One
Lapis Lazuli
Graylen must’ve heardthem coming, but not soon enough.
Belatedly, Adrian rouses from his sleep on the other side of the horses’ stall, the sound of him stammering his confusion the only indication that he’s still over there.
“What is this?” Adrian shouts.
A guard steps forward. “My king, we received news of your return.”
The guard’s eyes slide to us. I grip my dagger, and Graylen shifts closer to me.
“Reports came of the merchant’s daughter and the Snake being with you,” he spits out. “Looks like there was some truth to what the old farmer had to say.”
Shit. The farmer sold us out.
The guard takes a step toward us, his sword lifting slightly. The men behind him follow suit, their gazes set on us as they slowly fan out to fully block the only exit.
“Michael,” Adrian hisses. “They are not our enemy. Stand down.”
The guard—Michael—shakes his head slowly and says, “Sorry, Your Majesty, can’t do that. We’ve already been warned of theirnature.”
Though disgust laces Michael’s voice, the small tremor in his sword gives away just how frightened he truly is.
“Enough,” Adrian snaps, his patience eviscerated within seconds. “How are you all here? What about the rebels?”
Michael’s head tilts, brows pulling together. “Rebels, my king?”
“The rebels that took the castle…” Adrian’s voice trails off as Michael’s expression grows more confused. His gaze shifts to me, likely thinking that we’re all liars for telling him the rebels took the castle.
“So the castle stands tall? Untouched?” Adrian pushes.
Michael nods, lips pursed as he eyes Adrian like he’s lost his mind.
I share a look with Graylen.
The last we heard was the reports of shadows swirling around the castle and the rebels that had taken it. Penyth’s council had suspected the Furies were behind the attack, but these soldiers seem genuinely confused, as though nothing was amiss.
Adrian presses for more answers, but my attention is pulled to the soldiers slowly shifting closer to Graylen and me.
“Evil, Penythfilth,” a man just to our left mutters.
Murmurs of agreement sound from the others, and Graylen lets out a low growl of warning.
“We can take them,”I send into Graylen’s mind.“I call the asshole that called us filth.”
Almost imperceptibly, Graylen tilts his head to the side.“As hot as that would be to watch you knock that fucker to the ground, we can’t. Stick to the plan; it’s our best way in. We can’t give Moros a reason to think we’re against them.”
