Page 62 of The Throne's Undoing

"Kal, you're not little," he said softly.

"Mhm! Little like... like..." Kallie bit her lip, looking around the forest. A gray furry critter scurried across the ground, over the roots and leaves. "A mouse!"

The boy chuckled. "You're little like a mouse?"

She nodded frantically.

He reached out a hand and pulled a leaf from her long brown waves. "Well, little mouse, do you want to know a secret?"

Kallie looked at him with wide eyes as if he held the entire world in his palm. "Yes!"

"Shh," he said, raising a finger to his lips. "Do you remember what we do with secrets?"

Kallie nodded enthusiastically, mimicking his gesture. She listened with eager ears as he wiped the tears from her cheek.

"A mouse may be small, but it is a mighty little creature."

"Mighty?" Kallie repeated the word, chewing on it. She didn't know what it meant, but the way he said it made it sound like it was a good thing.

"Mhm. Mighty," he said, nodding. "It means strong."

Kallie narrowed her eyes as she pursed her lips. "Small but mighty?"

"That's right. And you'll grow taller eventually."

Kallie perked up. "Taller than Fynn and Ter?"

The boy chuckled. Long strands of hair fell in his face, and he pushed them back as he leaned on his heels. He shrugged. "Probably not."

"Taller than Gray?" she asked, poking him in the chest.

Shaking his head, he chuckled more this time, his eyes alight with amusement. "Most definitely not."

Kallie pouted and sank into the dirt.

"Come now, princesses do not pout."

Kallie shook her head. "Little mouse," she whined.

Gray stood, his body towering over hers. But when he looked at her, he neither looked at her as if she was smaller or weaker than him, nor as if she was just some annoyance that followed after them.

"You may be small, little mouse, but you are mighty and fierce." He reached out a hand. Kallie wiped away the last remnants of her tears and wrapped her fingers around his. He murmured, "Never forget who you are."

Never forget who you are.

Kallie's eyes shot open.

Sharp, cool air burned her lungs. The stench of smoke was long gone, replaced with the faint smell of moss and bergamot. While the fresh, clean air should have been a relief, it wasn't.

As various images flashed across her mind, anger quickly filled her veins.

A bloody, severed head.

A scimitar gleaming in the sunlight.

Sharp silver eyes staring down at her.

Terin's hands wrapped around Graeson's throat.

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