“What happened in Archwood wasn’t your fault.” Grady interrupted the spiral of my thoughts.
Clamping my mouth shut, I scrubbed my hands down my face, wiping away the dampness that had found its way to my lashes.
“I know that’s what you’ve been thinking. It’s not,” he said, voice low and hard. “The King didn’t want Archwood defended. He wanted the city destroyed. Prince Thorne told you that.”
I flinched at the sound of his name.
“Archwood was fucked whether or not you ever set foot in that city.”
Dropping my hands to my stomach, I shook my head. “Well, it was mighty convenient that Prince Rohan came for me the same night they laid waste to a city.”
“It wasn’t convenient. It was fucking Hymel. What was going to happen to Archwood was going to go down. They just took two birds with one stone.”
Maybe Grady was right. That Archwood would’ve fallen no matter what, and if Hymel had never gone to the Hyhborn, then we might have died that night in Archwood. Maybe we would’ve escaped. I didn’t know.
But what I was sure about? What I needed no intuition to know? Grady wouldn’t be in this situation, his life hanging on whether or not I displeased the Hyhborn. He wouldn’t be here, for better or worse, if it weren’t for me.
The only thing I could do now was make sure that Grady got out of this in one piece, and I would, even if it was the last thing I ever did.
I didn’t remember dozing off, but I must have, because I was suddenly wide awake and my heart was pounding.
The chamber was quiet— the entire inn was silent, but something woke me.
“Lis?” Grady nudged my leg with his knee. “There was screaming.”
Swallowing, I turned my head toward him, able to make out the line of his profile. His head was tipped back. I followed his gaze to the ceiling, where there was nothing but silence. A chill skated down my spine as the streams of moonlight retreated from the ceiling, slipping across the beams and out the window—
The gas lantern in the bathing chamber suddenly turned on. Every muscle in my body tensed. The glow pulsed. Ice drenched my insides as the lamp on the table flickered to life, pulsing wildly. Air lodged in my throat as the air all around us charged with static— with power.
“The Hyhborn,” I whispered. “Something is going— ”
A cry pierced the silence, sudden and abrupt.
Sitting up, I grasped the front of Grady’s tunic. The air was torn apart by a shrill shout, then another scream . . . and another.
“What’s happening?” Grady gasped, straining against the chains.
“I don’t know.” Heart thumping, I scrambled to my knees and peered out the window, but I saw nothing but darkness. I jerked back from the window at the sound of a skin-chilling wail that ended sharply. That had come from outside, in the distance of whatever village we’d entered.
Twisting, I slipped off the bed and stood, wincing as sore muscles protested. Breathing raggedly, I reached for the dagger—
“Don’t,” Grady warned. “Keep it on you and run, Lis. Please. Fucking make a run for it.”
My fingers curled around empty air as a shriek sent a shudder of dread through me. I backed up, each breath feeling too shallow, too quick. Turning, I crawled back into bed.
“Lis, please,” Grady begged, his voice thickening.
Shaking my head, I stretched out beside him, pressing my face to his chest as I gripped his tunic once more.
Then the screaming began in earnest.
CHAPTER 39
Don’t look.
That’s what I kept telling myself as I was led through the inn, keeping my gaze trained on the backs of the Rae and the Hyhborn knights. My legs and arms were shaking so badly I was surprised I could actually put one foot in front of the other.
Grady had been taken from the chamber a few minutes after those . . . those screams had stopped. I didn’t see Prince Rohan or Lord Samriel as I walked, Lord Arion beside me.
Don’t look.
But the taproom floor was sticky and slick beneath my bare feet and there was a smell here that hadn’t been when we entered earlier that night. A biting, metallic scent mixed with a too-sweet one. Pungent. Overwhelming.
I looked.
My eyes skated to my right, and I stumbled as I saw the owner. Buck. I saw others I didn’t know the names of. Some were half dressed. Others didn’t have a stitch of clothing on them, but all of them were nothing more than bodies now.
Bodies were splayed across tables, missing limbs, and others hung from the second floor, draped over the railing of the staircase. There was so much blood. It looked like a wild animal had gotten ahold of them, clawing open their chests and stomachs, leaving their insides on the outside. Hanging from them. In clumps and pools on the floor behind them. Someone . . . someone was burning in the fireplace. I’d seen so much violence, but this was—