Page 66 of Royal Rebel

Devon was dead.

One of the only people in this entire kingdom that cared about her was dead, and . . . fates, it was her fault. She never should have asked him to leave with them.

Grayson went rigid, his hold on her hand strangling.

A shadow peeled away from a nearby tree. “I told you I’d be watching you, Grayson.”

Mia’s heart thundered. It was his brother, Carter. And he wasn’t alone. Four more shadows stepped forward, moving to surround them.

Grayson didn’t give them the chance. With blinding speed, he threw the dagger in his hand. It lodged in the stomach of the closest man, and he dropped to his knees. Still moving, Grayson threw another dagger—this one hit its target as well.

The other two men rushed forward, and Grayson drew his longsword to meet their drawn blades. Steel clashed as blows were exchanged, their movements so quick, they blurred.

Mia wanted to close her eyes. She wanted to cover her ears and block out everything. The sight of Devon’s lifeless body. The gasps of the dying soldiers. Grayson’s grunt of pain, and then his snarl of fury.

Mia was frozen. She’d witnessed violence before, but this was different. Worse. Fiercer. Adrenaline rushed through her body, making her skin prickle.

A memory surged. She was a child, standing in the palace training yard, watching her father fight with his men. He was sparring, but she didn’t realize that. She’d thought the fight was real—that those men were trying to kill her father. The men were large and they hit hard enough to draw blood. She’d started to cry.

Desfan and Tally had teased her.

Mother had given them stern looks, then she’d crouched before Mia and wiped away her tears. “None of these men are in real danger, my love. It’s a game, nothing more.”

This fight with Grayson wasn’t a game.

As she watched, Grayson’s sword slashed across the stomach of one of the two remaining soldiers, wrenching a death cry from him. Grayson’s scarred face was a blank mask, but his gray eyes burned with intensity as his blade flashed in the moonlight.

Mia did not fear him. She couldneverfear him. But, in this moment, she understood why people did. She understood why they called him the Black Hand, and why Tyrell did not trust him. If this was the only side of Grayson people saw, she could understand their terror.

Peripheral movement snatched her attention as Carter took a quick step back. His round eyes were riveted on Grayson’s furious battle with the remaining guard. He seemed to just be realizing that he hadn’t brought enough men to contain Grayson.

Not nearly enough.

The older prince jerked back another step, his mouth opening to call an alarm.

If Carter yelled for reinforcements and their escape was stopped, Grayson would be punished—again.

Mia would not allow that to happen.

She dropped the bag from her shoulder and darted forward. She hit Carter right in the abdomen, under his guard—a vulnerable place to hit, Grayson had taught her—and they both crashed to the ground.

A curse spat out of Carter. His sword bounced away and his elbow slammed into her back. Pain sparked, but that didn’t stop her from reaching for her sheathed dagger. She didn’t plan to kill him—only get him to surrender.

Carter’s fingers dug into her wrist, and her swollen hand flared painfully. She couldn’t stop her small cry of pain.

Carter bucked beneath her and they rolled, each of them grappling for her knife. He wasn’t as strong as Grayson or Tyrell, but he was still larger and stronger than her.

A sick misgiving stabbed her. She was going to lose this fight.

They stopped rolling, and Mia gasped as Carter’s weight smashed against her ribs. Sprawled on top of her, his boots digging into the ground, he wedged one hard forearm against her throat.

Mia gagged.

Carter’s breaths were sharp. Fear was in his eyes, along with desperation. “He won’t hurt me if I have you,” he gasped. “He won’t—”

Carter’s head was jerked back, cutting off his words and baring his throat to the silver moonlight. His entire body was yanked off her, and Mia instinctively rolled away. She looked back just in time to see a dagger slice, and Mia’s stomach pitched as crimson blood rained down.

Grayson’s hand fisted in Carter’s long black hair, and he released his limp brother with a shove. Then he stared down at her, his breathing even, his hands bloody.

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