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Years ago, when I fled from Netherhaven and hid in Hexfall, I discovered forgotten finery in the royal bedchambers. Perhaps by some quirk of the curse’s magic, they remained untouched by moths and rot. Even better, there should be some swords that have not yet rusted in the abandoned castle armory.

It's a far cry from my own leather armor and blades, but I have little choice in the matter. I can't leave myself completely vulnerable to attack.

Pyrah glances at the sky, as if worried the golden dragon might swoop down from the heavens at any moment. Was Scaldric a problem while I was gone? I'm afraid to ask.

“Hurry,” she says.

“You should shift back into a woman. You could hide more easily that way.”

“I’m done hiding. I will stand guard while you go inside.”

Rather than argue with her, I journey deeper into the ruins of the castle. Inside the old keep, it reminds me of my wintery dream, when I saw Pyrah holding our white-haired baby. But that was just a dream. There’s no time for wonder when survival is required.

I enter the cobweb-tangled bedchambers that once belonged to my ancestor, King Mallex the Wrong. I have no qualms about looting the wardrobe of a dead king. His clothes have always fit me well enough. They are, I suppose, my inheritance.

I dress simply, all in black, and hurry onward to the armory.

My footsteps echo in the cavernous hall, where cursed roses snake through the windows and tangle with armor and weaponry abandoned a hundred years ago.

The knights in this court wore chain mail rather than full plate armor.

That might be useful, though I have never worn it before and it could slow me down. I tilt my head, considering.

Fuck it.

I grab a hauberk and slip it on over my shirt.

The weight of the mail rests upon my shoulders like a reassurance, as if the ghosts of the past want to lend me strength.

Finally, I grab a bastard sword, a brutal length of steel that still holds a sharp edge.

I find this out the hard way when the sword nicks my thumb and tastes blood.

A bastard sword for a bastard prince.

I'm ready.

I exit Hexfall and leave the ruins of the castle and my memories here behind me.

Pyrah stands guard with her back to me, though she must hear me approach. When she turns around, her gaze travels over my armor before lingering on my borrowed blade.

“You found a bastard sword?” she asks.

I tilt my head at her reaction. “Yes, why?”

“It reminds me of the bastard sword he had.” She shudders. “The dragonslayer who killed my mother.”

She never told me this before. She never even knew his name before she burned him to ashes. If I could go back in time and slaughter her enemies for her, I would do it a thousand times.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “It wasn’t my intent to remind you.”

“I know.”

“We shouldn't linger here. It’s not safe.”

“Haven’t you hidden in Hexfall before?”

“I wasn’t being hunted before.”

Her eyes glint with ferocity. “Queen Dulcamara must die.”

It’s foolish to disagree with a vengeful dragon, but it’s even more foolish to attack the ruler of Chymeria. The queen has knights and royal sorceresses at her command. We are outlaws in her kingdom, without the armies or allies needed to defeat her.

And yet…

The prophecy keeps echoing in my head. “ The Gray Prince will sit on the ruined throne .” When I speak the words out loud, a sense of destiny settles over me, stronger than any armor. “Maybe we were wrong.”

Pyrah tilts her head. “Wrong about what?”

Restless, I pace back and forth through the forgotten castle. “Maybe the ruined throne was never in Hexfall. Maybe it was the throne in Netherhaven.”

“The queen’s castle?”

“Yes.” From the ashes of despair, hope flickers inside me like a flame. “Perhaps I misunderstood my fate.”

“But the throne in Netherhaven isn’t ruined.”

“Not yet.” I lock eyes with her. “For you, I will let the kingdom burn.”

Pyrah holds her breath for a moment. “The whole kingdom? Even a dragon can’t burn the entire thing down.”

When I stop pacing, I stand at attention as if ready for battle. “I am not the queen’s victim to torment and discard. I am the Gray Prince. I am the one who will bring about her destruction.” Realization falls over me like rain. “She never had the power to end my story for me.”

“When you speak of endings, do you mean death?”

“I would die to protect you.”

“I won’t let you do that.” Her eyes flash with defiant fire. “The prophecy never said you would sacrifice yourself.”

“That would be my choice.”

“You don’t need to be the hero.”

“You’re right,” I say. “I need to be the villain.”

Her sharp intake of breath could be either fear or excitement. She looks at me as if seeing me for the first time. I’m overwhelmed by a fierce desire to protect her and prove myself worthy of her love. My shadow wings unfurl behind me and betray my fully demonic form.

“Rook,” she says. “You’re not the villain of this story.”

“Whose story? In this kingdom, I have always been the villain. That’s what the queen and all her human subjects believe about me. Do you know why they fear me? Because villains have power.”

“I don’t care what they believe about you. What do you believe?”

I bow my head while I ponder her words. “I believe that I have been on the run for far too long. That I have spent far too many years of my life hiding from the truth. That I was unable to accept the royal blood in my veins or the weight of the prophecy on my shoulders.”

Royal blood. Unbidden, a memory darts through my mind—the dagger slicing my wrist and letting my blood flow. Why did Zin collect my blood? What dark magic has she wrought?

Pyrah’s words bring me back to the present. “What would it mean for you to become the Gray Prince?”

“I can’t be an outlaw any longer. I can’t cling to an existence as a monster hunter in the shadows. My old life died back in that dungeon.”

Her breath escapes her in a sigh. “I have never seen you so certain before. There’s this undeniable confidence about you.” She shakes her head. “Is this who you really are?”

“Yes.”

There’s nothing else to say. I’m standing in the ruins of a forgotten castle, a place once ruled by my ancestors. I should not have fought the prophecy for so long, though I wasn’t ready to accept my role until now.

“What does this mean for me ?” Her voice rasps with emotion.

“You would be my queen.”

When I cradle her cheek in my hand, she leans in to my touch. She’s silent for a moment before she speaks. “If we burn down the kingdom, we would rule over ashes.”

“Sometimes things must be destroyed before they can be reborn.”

The truth of these words sinks down to the marrow of my bones.

I am the Gray Prince, and this is my destiny.