Graylen is at my side, his gaze fixed ahead.
Moros knows we’re coming now. He’s had time to prepare, time to spin whatever story it is that he’s concocted. I still don’t know if Adrian is fully on our side—if he’ll believe what his uncle has to say or if he’ll see through his lies.
As we leave Wisebech behind us, walking the road back to the castle, I ignore the whispers under the breaths of the soldiers.
I can’t stop thinking about what Adrian said, his demand that the guards give their steeds away to people in Wisebech. It almost feels as if there’s still some good left in him, like seeing his kingdom not as a king, but as a subject, giving him a different perspective.
Maybe it did.
“Penyth whore,” whispers a soldier from behind us. “Spreading your legs so the king doesn’t see who you are.”
I clench my teeth as someone answers him, saying, “Think she’ll spread those legs for me too?”
Adrian must not have heard, because he looks out at the trees, lost in thought.
But I certainly did, and if I did, then so did Graylen.
Shit.
I spin around just as the gurgling noise begins. Graylen already has a man—whom I presume is the one who asked the question—by the throat, his feet dangling slightly above the ground.
“What’s that?” Graylen huffs a laugh, his voice a low rumble. “Couldn’t hear you.”
So much for sticking to the plan.
Everything happens at once. The men begin shouting, their swords drawn, before Adrian can even turn around to figure out what’s going on.
Graylen’s back is to me, so he doesn’t see Michael yank me by the arm.
I’m thrust backward, the shouting from the men swallowing the scream of frustration I let out. I throw my elbow into his ribcage, a softumphcoming from behind me as his hold loosens.
“Get your fucking hands off of her,” Adrian snaps.
That finally catches Graylen’s attention. He drops the man, the soldier’s face nearly purple as he falls to the ground in a heap, coughing and sputtering strings of curses at Graylen.
Graylen’s surrounded by guards, but the moment his eyes land on me, I give him a small and frantic shake of my head. He doesn’t use his magic. Not yet. Not until we have no other choice.
The arm around me instantly falls away, and I reach for my dagger, spinning toward Michael.
“Your Majesty, get back.” Michael lifts his sword, his gaze bouncing from my dagger to my face.
“She isn’tdangerous,” Adrian hisses.
My head turns to him, and I quirk a brow.Sheisvery muchdangerous.
Adrian catches my stare and huffs, “She wasn’t a danger untilyouprovoked her, Captain.”
His face reddens, and I cringe. Our plan of coming in peace lasted all of two minutes.
“I can’t just stand by and watch her walk into our sacred castle!” Michael spews, spit flying from his mouth as he takes a lurching step toward me. He points his sword, the tip a hair away from my nose. But I don’t flinch back like he wants me to. “This vile woman corrupting our landcannotenter a place such as?—”
Michael’s voice cuts off as something blurs past me, knocking him away, his words turning into screams of agony. Adrian gasps across from me, and a familiar arm snakes around my waist, pulling me back.
“A wolf,” cries one of the soldiers, their swords turning toward a new enemy.
Graylen pulls me back, but I push away from him to get a better look.
Stark-white, fluffy fur partly stained red moves in a blur and jerks side-to-side, the beast’s jaw clamped around the curve where Michael’s shoulder meets his neck. Giant paws grip the muddied dirt, sending a memory skittering into my mind of perpetually dirty legs and underbelly from running alongside me in the woods.
