“You’re not in a position to give orders, Dacre. You’ve thrown away every bit of power you once had here.” Slowly, he motioned toward someone outside, and I braced myself as two others entered my cell. Both of them were men I had helped train for the sake of this rebellion. “Good afternoon, boys.” I nodded toward them as I watched them with wary eyes, taking in their hardened expressions and tense postures. One had a scar running down the length of his cheek, and I had been the one who tore off a strip of my shirt to stop the bleeding when one of the King’s Guard had given it to him. Grady.
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