Chapter no 21 – Corrick

Defy the Night

Quint is sprawled in a chair in my quarters, eating strawberries while the sun sets in the window behind him. He’s been talking about nothing for at least twenty minutes, and usually I don’t care, but my nerves are so on edge that I’m ready to have my guards drag him out of here.

“And then,” he’s saying, “Jonas told the guards that the girl was his niece, if you can believe that. I don’t know who he thinks he’s fooling.”

I ght with the gold buttons on my jacket, then jerk it oﬀ my shoulders to toss onto the bed alongside the others I’ve tried and discarded. “I feel like there must be a matter somewhere in the palace that needs your attention.”

“More than likely.” He picks up another strawberry and twists the stem free. “Try the black one again.”

I frown. at’s the jacket Geoﬀrey rst pulled from my wardrobe—and likely the one he expects that I’m still wearing. I yanked it oﬀ when I realized it reminds me too much of what I do for my brother, which makes me worry it will remind Tessa of what I do for my brother. I reach for the red one instead.

“Absolutely not,” says Quint.

I sigh and set it aside, then run a hand across my jaw.

Quint sets the strawberry down and walks past the pile on my bed, heading for my wardrobe. “Honestly, Corrick. e girl has seen you in wool and broadcloth.” He surveys the contents for a moment and pulls a garment free. “Here.”

e jacket is a deep-blue brocade, with a faint pattern of leaves in a slightly darker shade, with a black silk collar and silver piping. e buttons are burnished silver. It’s so and simple and I’ve never worn it—it’s nothing I would normally wear.

“No,” I say.

“You don’t want to be the prince. You can’t be the outlaw. Shall we come up with another identity?”

“Quint.”

He holds open the jacket like a valet. “You know the salon will be packed with courtiers at this hour. Do you want to leave your girl to the vipers?”

No. I don’t. And he’s right: it doesn’t matter what I wear. I can’t be who she wants me to be. I sigh and slip my arms into the sleeves. “She still hates me.”

“She hates that you lied. ere’s a diﬀerence.” Quint steps around to face me. He bats my hands away from the buttons, then takes them up himself.

“I had no idea you knew how to button a jacket,” I say, feigning wonder. “Hush.” He nishes the last button, brushes invisible dust from my

shoulder, and steps back.

I tug at my shirtsleeves and realize that he’s studying me. is is what most people miss about Quint: he seems scattered and shallow, but underneath, he’s a keen observer who sees everything and forgets nothing.

“What?” I say.

“I heard what happened in the Hold today. With Consul Sallister.”

“How I banned him from the palace?” I grunt. “Harristan had a few words about that.”

“No. About how you ordered that the prisoners be fed and treated.”

I frown. “Sallister had most of them beaten half to death, Quint. If he wants to nd out who’s behind the raids on his supply runs, he needs to leave me someone to question.”

He says nothing.

I roll my eyes and turn for the door. “Now you have nothing to say?” “Tessa may be safe, and she may not like the truth,” he says quietly. “But

here, you can only be Prince Corrick.” “I know.”

“You can only be the King’s Justice.”

I want to be irritated, but I’m not. Maybe I needed the reminder. My voice is just as level as his. “I haven’t forgotten.”

“Of course not.” Quint reaches for the door. “Your evening awaits, Your Highness.”

Quint was right. e salon is packed with courtiers. I spot Jonas Beeching in the corner, and the consul is sharing a drink with a young woman with raven-dark curls that spill down her back. She appears to be half his age, and I wonder if this is the niece Quint mentioned. Jonas must feel my gaze, because he begins to look up, so I glance away. He’ll want to emphasize the need for his bridge request for Artis again, and I have no desire to play politics tonight.

But then, just for a moment, I glance back, thinking of that moment at the table when Allisander mentioned that Jonas’s request for too much silver might have something to do with the Benefactors who are funding the rebels. I turn that around in my head, and it doesn’t quite seem to t. Jonas is too complacent, too happy to allow the world to keep turning as it always has because nothing bad aﬀects him personally.

I scan the crowd for Tessa, wondering if any of the ladies have sunk their claws into her yet. Gossip lls the air like a haze, and though voices drop when I draw near, I catch a few scattered comments as I stride through the room.

Apparently she’s an apothecary.

I heard she spent the night with the prince.

I don’t care what some girl says, my physician recommends four doses a day. She’d better watch her throat.

I roll my eyes and take a glass of wine from a passing servant with a tray. Maybe the king tried to sneak her into the palace.

Perhaps she’s carrying his bastard. I choke on my drink.

Well. at will come as a surprise to Harristan.

I don’t see Tessa, and it takes eﬀort to keep from pulling my pocket watch free. Across the room, Jonas looks like he’s gathering the nerve to approach me. If Tessa doesn’t show up soon, I’m going to have to nd someone else to talk to or I’ll be forced to listen to him.

“Your Highness.”

e quiet voice speaks from beside me, and I turn to nd myself facing Lissa Marpetta. She and Allisander control the supply of Moon ower in Kandala, but she doesn’t annoy me half as much as he does. She doesn’t annoy me at all, honestly. She’s nearly twice my age, and she was once close with my mother. I oen wonder if that’s part of the reason she never pushes

me or Harristan too hard. Many of the consuls think she is passive, a woman who was once close with the royal family, who later lucked into wealth and power. Harristan disagrees. He thinks she’s clever. While Allisander has no hesitation in speaking out for what he wants, Lissa always seems happy to let him ght the battles while her sector reaps the rewards.

“Consul,” I say. “I thought you’d returned to Emberridge.”

“I heard there were developments in the palace, and Allisander sent word that I should return.”

Of course he did. “A misunderstanding,” I say smoothly. “e girl brought evidence to the palace that our dosages require a closer look.”

She studies me. “You would believe the word of a girl from the Wilds over your royal physicians?”

“I believe we should listen to anyone who might suggest a way to make the medicine more eﬀective.”

Lissa hesitates. “With all due respect, Your Highness, I would suggest that you proceed with great care.”

I take a sip of my drink. “You think I would be reckless?”

“I think your parents were too trusting of those outside the palace.” She’s quiet for a moment. “I was quite fond of your mother. I do not want to see the same fate befall you and your brother.”

I look back at her, and some of my agitation dissipates. It’s rare that any of them take a moment for sentimentality with us, especially now. I nod. “Of course, Consul.”

She moves away, and I drain the last of my glass. I didn’t need the reminder about my parents. I don’t need the reminder that Tessa’s theories are just that—theories.

A sudden hush descends on the room as someone new seizes their attention. I see a fancy dress, a fair complexion, and a pile of curls, and my eyes almost dismiss the newcomer as another courtier . . . until I realize it’s Tessa.

She’s been dressed in a striking gown of crimson velvet, though the skirts are split down the side to reveal a swath of sheer cream-colored voile when she moves. Her arms are bare, though someone has wound a lengthy stretch of red satin ribbon in a complicated pattern along her forearms, and it’s tied oﬀ just above her elbow. Her expression is aloof, her mouth unsmiling, her

eyes inty. Led by guards, she could easily look like a prisoner, but instead, she looks like a queen.

Her steps slow as she enters the room, her eyes searching the faces.

e whispers have begun anew. Tessa’s stoic countenance begins to give way, and I can tell she’s hearing some of the comments. Her gaze begins to

ick le and right, looking less aloof and more panicked.

I step across the room. “Tessa.”

She gives a little jolt, then looks up at me. An attendant has lined her eyes with dark colors and brushed pinks across her cheeks. Her lips are a lighter red than the dress, and they part slightly when she gasps.

Tessa must realize she’s staring, because her eyes go cool and she clamps her mouth shut. She takes hold of her skirts and drops into a curtsy that somehow manages to be both graceful and belligerent. Clearly etiquette lessons went well. “Your Highness.”

Only she could turn a curtsy into an act of de ance. I bow in return, then oﬀer my arm. “Shall we?”

She hesitates, uncertainty ickering behind the boldness in her eyes. Every person in this room is watching her reaction, waiting to see how she’ll proceed—and how I’ll respond. Half are simply curious, but half are undoubtedly waiting for a bit of vicious entertainment, something they can whisper about once I’m gone. Some of them are probably hoping blood will spill.

Quint’s warnings are loud in my head. You can only be the King’s Justice.

Maybe Tessa can read the shi in my expression, because her hand lands on my arm weightlessly. I can feel her ngers trembling.

She’s still afraid of me. at pierces a hole in all of Quint’s warnings.

A part of me wishes I could undo it, but I have no idea how to undo all of what I am. I consider the way my parents died, and I don’t even know if I would.

e doors swing open as we approach, the cool night air swirling against my skin. e cobblestone road in front of the palace is bustling with activity. Horses and carriages come and go, servants and footmen scurrying about. Somewhere, a horse whinnies, and a man shouts for a porter.

A footman stops in front of us and bows. “Your Highness. Your carriage is ready.”

“A carriage,” whispers Tessa.

“Did you think we would walk?” I say, leading her down the steps.

In the sunlight, my carriage is a deep burgundy, but in the moonlight, it looks black. Silver accents glint in the light from the lanterns. Four horses stand in gleaming harness, tiny bells jingling when they toss their heads. e footman holds the door, and I oﬀer Tessa my hand.

She narrows her eyes at me, ignores my hand, and climbs inside.

I’m about to follow, but Captain Huxley stops beside the carriage. “Your Highness.”

e captain of the palace guard is a large man with blond hair, ruddy cheeks, and a fondness for chocolates and bitter ale. He’s an honest man, as far as I can tell, but he’s known for taking bribes in exchange for bits of gossip about the royal family. He’s been captain since my father was king, but when Harristan chose his personal guard, Huxley was overlooked, a slight I don’t think he’s ever forgiven.

We haven’t forgiven him for failing to keep our parents safe, so I think we’re even.

He’s all but blocking the doorway. I barely glance at him. “What?”

He hesitates when he hears my tone. “is girl is unknown. I should ride with you.”

“I will take it under consideration while you ride behind.” I shi to move past him.

“Regardless of what stories she bears, she slipped into the palace—” “Yes. She did. Walked right past one of your guards.”

“Yes, well—that is—Your Highness—” he begins, blustering. “I am very hungry, Captain.”

He hesitates, then takes a step back. “As you say.”

When I climb into the carriage, Tessa has taken the seat to the front, so I jerk the door closed and ease onto the velvet cushions on the opposite side. Her eyes are dark and cool as they regard me, but her ngers are twisted together, her knuckles pale.

I give her a wry glance. “Captain Huxley oﬀered to ride with us,” I say. “I declined.”

“Is he worried about the dagger I’ve hidden in my skirts?” “Say that a little louder and you’ll nd out.”

e driver chirps to the horses and a whip snaps in the air, and suddenly we’re rocking and swaying over the cobblestones.

A small lantern hangs above the window, throwing shadows across her cheeks and making the red highlights in her gown gleam.

I lean back into the cushions. “Tell me: Do you really have a dagger?” Tessa turns to look at the window. “Keep your hands to yourself or you’ll

nd out.”

“For as much as you hate me, you can’t be this upset about a ne carriage ride and a meal at the most exclusive establishment in all of Kandala.”

Her eyebrows go up. “I can’t?”

Lord, she is so brazen. “Fine. Perhaps you can.”

She says nothing. I say nothing. e silence grows cooler between us, punctuated by the rhythmic clopping of hooves against the cobblestones.

“Forgive me,” I say. “I should have started by saying that I owe you a debt of gratitude.”

She whips her head around. She looks like she expected me to be teasing her, but when she sees that I’m not, her eyes narrow. “Why?”

“Because you didn’t tell Harristan about . . . us.”

She turns to look out at the night again. “I did, in fact.” She pauses, her

ngers exing. “I told him the truth. I was partners with a man I thought was a friend, until he was caught by the night patrol and hung along the gate.”

e truth. I wonder if that’s the truth she’s told herself, too. at it doesn’t matter that I was Weston Lark—because he’s dead. Now I’m just me.

She clears her throat. “I thought it wouldn’t matter anyway, since no one would believe me.”

“Harristan suspects . . . something between us.” Her eyes snap to mine. “What?”

“It’s not like me to be lenient.” I shrug. “He’s not pressing me for answers.” Her ngers twine together again, like this is worrisome. “Why not?” “Because he’s my brother, Tessa.”

She looks back at the window. “It doesn’t matter. ere’s nothing between us.”

“So I’ve heard.”

Silence ticks along between us again. e night is very dark here, but ahead, re ickers in a massive circle that appears to hang suspended above the earth. Despite her ire, Tessa shis slightly closer to the window to see better. I’ve seen it all my life, but even still, the illusion at night really is quite

spectacular. It’s not a circle at all, but a large archway hung with a hundred torches, each spilling ash and sparks onto a glistening pond that re ects the light. Tessa’s lips part as we draw closer, the light illuminating wonder in her eyes.

I shi to the opposite side of the carriage to sit beside her so I can see it as clearly, and she gasps and swings a st.

Honestly. I catch her wrist. “Don’t cause a ruckus in the carriage,” I say. “I was serious about the captain.” I keep hold of her arm and nod at the window. “Look, before we’re past.”

She inhales like she wants to snap at me, but we’ve drawn close enough to hear sparks sizzle as they strike the water, and the sound pulls her attention to the window again. It’s too dark to see the woven branches that support the torches, and starlight twinkles beyond the suspended ames. Each spark that falls glitters on the surface of the pond before drowning.

“It’s called Stonehammer’s Arch,” I say. “You can see it from the palace. It was built by my great-grandfather as a declaration of love for his bride. He said as long as the torches kept burning, so would his love for her. When we were children, Harristan and I used to dare each other to climb across.”

She jerks her hand out of my grasp. “I hope you fell a lot.” I lean close. “Never once.”

“I’m going to stab you.”

“I don’t really believe you have a dagger.”

She draws herself up, challenge aring in her eyes, brighter than the arch.

is bickering reminds me of the way we’d tease each other in the workshop, and at once it’s both disheartening and exhilarating.

But suddenly her expression shis, turning pained, and she presses her hands to her chest, as if it’s hard to breathe.

I straighten, alarmed. “Tessa—”

“How could you do that to me?” She shoves me right in the chest, and I can feel all of her sorrow in the motion. Her voice breaks. “How could you?”

I freeze. For a moment in the darkness, I forgot. Maybe I really did need Quint’s warning.

She’s so tense beside me that it feels like a cruelty to sit here. I shi back to my side of the carriage and tug my jacket straight. Shadows fall across her face, reminding me of the mask she once wore.

“Do you have any idea what I went through?” she whispers, her voice thin and reedy. “Do you?”

“No,” I say quietly. “Tell me.” She goes still and looks at me.

“You died,” she whispers, as if it should be obvious. Her eyes fall closed, and she shudders. “You were my best friend. You were . . . I was . . . I was in .

. .” She draws a breath. “Everything was so awful. I just wanted to help people. You did too—or so I thought. And then . . .” Her voice hitches. “You went . . . you went over the wall for me, and I heard the alarms . . .” She sniﬀs and dabs at her eyes. “And then, at daybreak, I saw . . .”

Her voice trails oﬀ.

I know what she saw.

She dabs at her eyes again and xes her gaze on the window. Stonehammer’s Arch is fading into the distance. We’re nearing the end of the private road behind the palace now, and soon we’ll be thrust into the midst of the elites again.

“Tessa.”

She swallows so hard it looks painful. “Don’t.” “I need you to understand something.”

“I don’t care.”

I lean forward and brace my arms against my knees. “Do you know,” I say evenly, “that every time I am called to the Hold, I worry I’ll nd you in one of the cells?”

“I suppose that would have put a quick end to your game.” “It wasn’t a game,” I snap.

She nally looks back at me. “en what was it? You are King’s Justice. You are the brother to the king. One death away from the throne yourself. You have more power than almost anyone in Kandala.” She spreads her hands. “So what were you doing? Was it some kind of penance? Some way to assuage your guilt?” Her voice breaks again. “You’ve seen what’s happening to the people! You’ve seen it with your own eyes! I can’t blame your brother. He’s surrounded by people who probably only tell him what he wants to hear. But you’ve seen the suﬀering, the deaths and the desperation, and still you lined those prisoners up on the stage, and you—you—”

“Tessa.” Every word pelts me like a stone. My own chest feels tight.

She presses her ngertips to her eyes. “Why are you doing this to me?” she whispers. “Just throw me in the Hold with the others.”

“I can’t.” My voice is rough and broken, and it gets her attention. She lowers her hands to blink at me.

“I can’t,” I say again, my eyes burning into hers. “I can’t, Tessa. You don’t know how many times I wished dawn wouldn’t come so quickly. How many times I wanted to stay with you instead of returning to this. How many times I wished I were truly Weston Lark, that Prince Corrick was the fabrication.”

She swipes a lone tear from her cheek angrily and gestures at the plush con nes of the carriage. “You couldn’t leave all this nery?”

“I couldn’t leave my brother.”

at draws her up short.

“I couldn’t take him with me,” I continue. “How would I? And even if I could, then . . . what? Leave Kandala to the consuls? I can barely negotiate a reasonable price out of Allisander Sallister for Moon ower petals as it is. He’s worse than his father was. It’s a delicate balance of keeping him happy and keeping our people as healthy as we can. He would volley for power, and considering all he has at his disposal, he’d likely get it.” I pause, then run a hand across my jaw. “Yes. I saw the suﬀering, Tessa, the same as you. But if Allisander were in power, medicine would be twice as scarce, and the fevers would be twice as deadly.”

She’s staring at me now.

“You can hate me,” I say. “Lord knows everyone else does. But you do not know this side of it.”

She’s gone completely still. e tears seem to have frozen on her cheeks. I don’t blame her.

But I can’t keep her prisoner. She’ll always hate me. She’ll never trust me. Knowing she’s safe in the palace isn’t any comfort at all if she’s hardly more than a dove locked in a gilded cage.

at’s my life, not hers.

“I’m not going to kill you. I’m not going to throw you in the Hold.” I blow a breath through my teeth. “Hell, if you want to leave, I’ll call the carriage to stop. I’ll step out to speak with the captain, and you can slip away.”

I reach for my waist and slip the buckle of my belt, freeing my dagger. I hold it out to her. “I don’t have a treble hook handy, but you can take my

blade if you like.”

She blinks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “is is a trick.”

“I have never tricked you.” I catch myself and roll my eyes. “Well. At any rate, I am not tricking you now.”

She glances from the dagger to my face and then to the window. Her

ngers are trembling again.

“Tessa,” I say soly. “I let you think I died because I wanted you to stay out of the Royal Sector. I wanted to keep you safe.”

I drop to a knee before her and press the dagger into her hand. She glances at it and then up at me. “I can leave. Just like that?”

My chest has grown tight again, and my breathing feels shallow. I force emotion out of my head, reminding myself of who and what I am. e King’s Justice spares no thought for loss or pity.

“Head southeast,” I say brusquely. “ere’s a small gate in the wall where the terrain dips. It looks old and rusted, and there’s a padlock, but the hinges are fake, and you can pull the pins from underneath. Do you understand?”

She nods, dumbfounded.

“Captain!” I call. e carriage lurches to a stop.

I pull a small pouch from my pocket and toss it into Tessa’s lap, and it jingles with silver. “at should be more than enough to start over.”

“Wait—”

I can’t wait. If I wait, I’ll change my mind. “You have ve minutes,” I say. “We’ll be facing away from the carriage.”

Without a backward glance, I slip the latch on the door and spring out.