Page 15

Today, Graeson and a few others had started clearing the houses on the third block in the village. Fortunately, these houses were not as badly destroyed as those closer to the pier. Some parts of the houses, they believed, could be restored. No more tearing through everything with reckless abandonment—something Graeson had enjoyed doing the past few days. They had to dig through the wreck and remove the unusable pieces while salvaging as much as possible.

With his emotions locked away, nothing seemed worth saving.

“Graeson, some help over here?”

Graeson groaned because, even more unfortunately, he was working with Armen today. His emotions weren’t tucked far enough away to hide his revulsion.

On the other side of the pile of rubble, Armen stared at Graeson as he struggled to pick up a large piece of wall that had collapsed.

Graeson rolled his eyes.Imbecile.

When Graeson was young, he had surpassed his own age group’s training early on. He joined the next age group to learn more advanced techniques before Graeson surpassed them, too. Armen, a few years older, had been jealous of Graeson’s natural affinity for fighting. Graeson hadn’t liked Armen then, and he didn’t now either. He never cared for those who would rather criticize their peers’ success than celebrate it.

Graeson’s distaste for the man had only grown with age. After several years of living in Ardentol under the guise of Kalisandre’s guard, Armen had become more arrogant. How the man had managed to rise in the ranks of the royal guard and become the captain of Kalisandre’s guard was beyond Graeson.His enhanced hearing could have only gotten him so far.

When Armen returned from Pontia, he traveled north to see his family after not seeing them for several years. On horseback, the ride took several days. By the time the news of the attack had arrived in Armen’s home village, Linthon, Fynn’s funeral had already passed. Armen returned only a few days ago to help with the reparations.

As much as Graeson didn’t want to help Armen, Queen Esmeray’s words earlier that week echoed in his mind: “Now is not the time to fight with one another. It is the time to show a united front. We are all hurting. We are all grieving. But we will get through this together. We will rebuild together. We will be stronger. Together.”

So, Graeson held his tongue.

Heading to the other side of the rubble, Graeson picked up the other end of the fractured wall. Dormant debris fell onto the ground. Together, the two men heaved it onto the large cart.

Armen sighed heavily. He brushed his hands together, rubbing off the dust sticking to his palms. “Thanks, man. I appreciate it.”

The muscles in Graeson’s jaw tightened, but he merely nodded and turned around to head back to his area of the destruction.

Armen, of course, kept talking,“I wish I could have been there.”

Graeson halted. He tried to propel his feet forward, but his body wouldn’t move. His tongue did. “And what would you have done, Armen?”

“I could have helped,” Armen said, kicking at a piece of debris. “I hate seeing all of this. I hate that I wasn’t here to help. I should have beenhereinstead of in Linthon. As much as I missed my family, I should have stayed here. I should have known something like this would have happened.”

Graeson’s jaw clenched. “How would you have known?”

Armen spat on the ground. “She was one of them. She wasn’t one of us anymore, you know?”

Graeson tilted his head an inch, an eyebrow arching. “No, I don’t know.”

Wrinkles creased Armen’s forehead. “What do you mean?”

“Tell me,” Graeson said through gritted teeth, “how Kalisandre, our queen’s daughter, isn’t one of us.” His body vibrated. Anger was the only thing he saw when the rest of his emotions were locked away. The only emotion that seeped through the cracks, making it harder to control the monster within.

Armen huffed as if Graeson’s question was funny. Graeson, however, wasn’t laughing.

When Graeson continued to stare at him in silence, Armen scratched the back of his head, shifting on his feet. “I mean, she was raised by the Ardentolian king. Kallie believed Ardentol was her home, Gray. She’s always been reckless and careless about others. Since I was there, I only knew her to care about three things: her father, her title, and that handmaiden of hers. In that order. She doesn’t care about anyone or anything else. Is she as cruel as Domitius? No. But even though they do not share the same blood, she is his daughter.”

Graeson’s lip curled. “But she’s not.”

“Not what?” Armen asked.

“Domitius’ daughter.” Graeson cracked his knuckles, his gaze locked on the rings on his fingers.

His control was slipping. He should have turned away and kept walking. If he were a good man, he would have. Graeson, however, wasn’tgood.

“Sure, not technically.” Armen rubbed the back of his neck. “Not by blood, anyway. But does that matter? I mean, take you, for instance, Esmeray is practically your mother. After all, she did raise you after—” Armen’s mouth snapped shut as Graeson’s head jerked up.

Graeson didn’t need to say anything, though. This might have been his home, but everyone was afraid of him. They tried not to be. They tried to pretend that Graeson was normal, that he wasn’t a monster. Because they needed him. He wasuseful. He was a tool they would need for the coming war. Because for years, they had known war was coming, ever since Domitius’ first attack on their homeland. Before, it was only a matter of time, but now it was closer than ever. So, even though they didn’t knowwhenit would happen, they knew that Graeson—no, the monster living inside of him—would be vital for their victory.