The door to the carriage slams, and Iโm alone. My heart pounds in my chest. Again, too much has happened, and my world feels like itโs been turned upside down for the tenth time today.ย ๎ขe pouch rattles with coins when I li๎ย it, and the dagger is heavy. When I pull it free of its sheath, it looks sharp and ready. I try not to wonder if heโs ever used it on anyone.
I donโt trust Corrick at all, but this . . . this doesnโt feel like a trap. What would be the purpose? What would he have to gain?
Iโm quick and sure-footed.ย ๎ขis dress is dark. If the captain and his men are distracted, I could slip away like a ghost.
I couldnโt go back to Mistress Solomonโs, but I couldย nd work in another city. Especially with a purse full of silver.
But then I think of my meeting with King Harristan.ย Itโs easy to love your king when everyone is well fed and healthy. A bit harder when everyone is . . . not.
He cares. Whatโs happening in Kandala weighs on him. Iโm not sure how I can tell, but I can.
Despite everything, I can tell it weighs on Corrick as well.
I have never tricked you. Iโve been treating him like the man who everyone fears, as if his entire life has been one big trick. But heโs been progressively protecting me since the instant I arrived in the palace, from the way he provided me with food and a room to sleep in to the note he slipped me before his meeting with his brother. Prince Corrick has done a lot of terrible things, but his words rang true. Maybe I donโt understand things from this side, just like they donโt seem to understand things from mine. And maybe the king was just indulging his brother by allowing me to meet with the royal apothecaries, but itโs an opportunity to tell people whoย matterย that they could be doing better with the supplies theyโre given.
I canโt keep stealing to help the sick, but maybe I can help them in another way.
Maybe.
Itโs a lot of maybes.
When Wes stood in front of me on our last night together, I said we needed to stop hiding and cause a revolution. Running now would be hiding. And this isnโt the type of revolution I was thinking of . . . but maybe I can bring about change. Maybe I can show the king how badly his people are su๏ฌering.
Maybe this is a chance no one else would ever have.
I leave the dagger and the coin pouch on the seat, then put my hand on the latch of the door. I open it boldly, stepping onto the cobblestones with no e๏ฌort to be silent.
๎ขe captainโs head whips around. So does Corrickโs.
โAh . . . forgive me.โ My voice cracks, and I have to clear my throat. โYour Highness?โ I curtsy for good measure. โItโs been a long day, and Iโm rather hungry. You mentioned you were as well.โ
Corrick looks at me acrossย ๎een feet of darkness, his blue eyes dark and inscrutable. Heโs gone very still.
My heart is beating so hard that I can nearly taste it in my throat. I hope Iโm not making a mistake.
โIndeed,โ heย nally says. โWeโll discuss the pattern of those search lights another time, Captain.โ
He walks back and looks down at me in the moonlight. In the dark itโs easy to remember him as Wes: the way he moves, the way the stars glint in his eyes. Brocade and silver have replaced homespun wool and rough leather, but heโs still the same man.ย ๎ขis morning, I told Quint that my friendship with Wes was an illusion based on a trick, and he said, โAre you so sure?โ
As always, Iโm not sure of anything.
Corrickโs eyes skim my face as the cool night air streams between us. โDinner awaits,โ he says. Any trace of an edge has vanished from his voice.
A footman scurries forward to hold open the door. Corrick o๏ฌers me his hand to help me into the carriage.
๎ขis time, I take it.
We sit opposite each other again. A whistle and a whip crack later, and weโre rocking over the cobblestones. Corrick settles back into his cushions, regarding me.ย ๎ขereโs no challenge in his expression nowโsimply consideration. Heโs obviously waiting for me to speak, to explain myself, but my tongue is twisted into knots.
Eventually, his eyes narrow just a bit. โDid you stay because you truly wanted to, or did you stay because you do not trust me?โ
โOh!โย ๎ขat didnโt occur to meโbut voicing either of those options makes me feel too vulnerable. โI . . . I chose to stay. I have obligations in the palace.โ
His eyebrows go up. โYou do?โ
โ๎ขe king asked me to speak with the royal apothecaries and physicians.โ โAh.โ He says this graciously, but his eyes search mine, and I can tell he
knows there is more that Iโm not saying. My thoughts are too complicated to put into words.
Maybe his are, too, because he says nothing more.
I pick up the small purse of coins and toss it back to him. He nimbly snatches it out of the air.
Myย ngers curl around the dagger, though, and I keep my eyes locked on Corrick as I tuck it into the side of my boot, then let my skirts fall to cover it. โYouโre not getting this back.โ
To my surprise, he smiles, his eyes lighting with challenge. โConsider it a gi๎.โ
 |
In the center of the Royal Sector sits the Circle, which isnโt really a circle at all, and is instead a dais constructed of marble and granite in the shape of an octagon, stretching at leastย ๎y feet across. Hundreds of years ago, it was used when the king wanted to hear from his people personally.ย ๎ขen Corrickโs great-great-great-grandfather took a dagger in the neck, and it was decided that requests from the people should be made in writing and le๎ย at the sector gates.
Over time, the Circle became a convenient location for merchants to sell their wares. As the story goes, twenty years ago, an enterprising tavern owner at the edge of the dais set a few tables and chairs out and outย tted his serving girls in fancy dresses. Within a year, heโd taken over the entire space.
Now itโs turned into a place where the richest elites gather to gossip and be seen spending their coins on things they donโt need.
Iโve only ever seen the Circle in the early hours of the morning, and only when Iโm sprinting through the deserted streets of the Royal Sector with stolen petals in my pack. In the dark, the dais is gray, the tables and chairs unremarkable, the pots ofย owers drab and lifeless.
When Corrick leads me out of the carriage, Iโm jolted by the di๏ฌerence. Now, yellow and white roses spill from massive pots set among the tables,
lling the air with a rich aroma. Stained-glass lanterns hang suspended on wires strung above the patrons, casting aย ickering multicolored glow across the crowded space. No walls separate those dining from the cobblestone streets, but dozens of carriages line the way, bored attendants waiting with the horses. In the Wilds, itโs rumored that the elites would spend a weekโs worth of silver just to dine here.
I look around at the painted faces, the elegantย nery, and I think it might be true.
Every eye follows us from the carriage to our table.
Our presence here must have been prearranged, because our table is at one end of the dais, set apart from the others, with room for the guards to stand between us and the other diners. Wine has already been poured, and a basket of steaming bread sits between us. Itโs simultaneously private yet not at all. If the guards were steel bars, this would be a cage. Conversation is loud in the night air, but the space between us hangs heavy with silence again.
Corrick sits in his chair as comfortably as he lounged on the velvet seat of the carriage, and he takes a lazy sip of wine.
Iโm perched on the edge of my chair, and I want to drain my entire glass and ask for a dozen more.
๎ขe prince is watching me. โSecond thoughts?โ he says.
โQuint said it would be public, but . . . I didnโt realize it would be like this.โ
He li๎s one shoulder in an elegant shrug. โWe could have dined in the palace, but that would have been worse.โ
My eyebrows shoot up. โWorse?โ
โHere, few people will dare to approach our table.โ He takes another sip of wine. โIn the palace, we wouldnโt have had a moment of privacy.โ
โAnd you think we have that now.โ I pick up my glass and limit myself to a sip.
โNot as much as Iโd like, but Quint wants people to see you as a potential ally to the throne.โ His voice turns dry. โNot the outlaw who, according to rumor, slipped into the palace to assassinate the king.โ
I cough on a sip of wine. My rash decision to enter the palace feels like a nightmare I wish I could shake o๏ฌ. โOf course.โ
He glances past the guards, and his expression goes still. โLord.โ He downs the rest of his glass.
โWhatโs wrong?โ
โOur evening is about to get less private.โ
I follow his gaze and see a man weaving between tables.
Corrick looks at me, and his eyes spark with devilry, reminding me of Wes. His voice drops, like weโre co-conspirators. โIf you want to throw a drink atย thisย man, you have my full permission.โ
I blink. โWait. What?โ
But heโs standing, smoothing his jacket, his face transforming into the darkly beguiling Prince Corrick.
If heโs standing, I probably should as well. I shove myself to my feet. A man steps between the guards without hesitation, so he must be someone of importance. Heโs not much older than Corrick, maybe Harristanโs age, with a goatee thatโs so thick it appears to be glued onto his face. It does nothing to hide the sour pinch to his mouth. He looks like a man who isnโt attractive at all but clearly believes he is.
โConsul!โ Corrick says joyfully, like heโs greeting a long-lost friend. โHave you dined this evening? Join us.โ
๎ขe man stops short. His eyes narrow. โCorrick.โ He glances dismissively at me. โI didnโt want to interrupt your dinner with your . . . guest.โ
He saysย guestย as though Corrick invited a sow to leave a mud pit to sit at this table with him.
I donโt want to throw my drink. I want to throw that dagger.
โNonsense,โ says the prince. โTessa, you have the honor of meeting Consul Allisander Sallister.โ
Consul Sallister. Moonlight Plains.ย ๎ขe man who would volley for power if he could.
A serving girl appears with another chair for the table. Anotherย lls Corrickโs wineglass before vanishing. Invisible.
I wish I were.ย ๎ขe tension between these two men is palpable. My heart thrums against my ribs, but I paste a smile on my face and curtsy. โConsul. I am honored.โ
He doesnโt even look at me. โI understand from Harristan that our argument in the Hold was a misunderstanding.โ
โOur argument?โ Corrick blinks as if startled. โAllisander,โ he says smoothly. โDid you truly think I would ban you from the palace?โ
โI question your actions,โ the consul says, his voice low and viciousโbut not so low that nearby tables arenโt getting an earful. โI question your motives. Last week, you had eight captives and three escaped. Today, I brought you a dozen rebels and instead of interrogating them, youโre coddling them.โ He glances at me pointedly. โTo be frank, Iโm surprised theyโre not at this table with you.โ
Iย inch.
Corrick doesnโt. โYou brought me a dozen unconscious rebels,โ he says evenly. โI will question them and punish them in due course.โ He pauses. โI will not do it over dinner, however.โ
I shiver at the chill in his voice.
Consul Sallister leans in. โYou promised my supply runs would be safeโโ โI promisedย guards, which you received.โ
โโand you promised an end to these attacksโโ โWhich you know I cannot guarantee.โ
โโwhich youโve made no e๏ฌort toย stop, if the new evidence of these Benefactors is to be believed.โ
Silence falls between them like a blade. Corrickโs eyes are blue ice.ย ๎ขe consulโs cheeks are red, his shoulders tight. I twist myย ngers together. I wish Quint were here to talk about the tablecloths or the design of the lanterns.
โPerhaps,โ I say, and my voice sounds wispy. I swallow. โPerhaps if word spreads that your apothecaries could make the medicine more e๏ฌective, the supply raids will lessen.โ
๎ขe consulโs eyes donโt shi๎ย to me. โWhat is she talking about?โ
โTessaโs arrival in the palace was unorthodox, Iโll admit,โ says Corrick, โbut she has presented evidence to Harristan that perhaps the dosages could be made more e๏ฌective.โ
โOr more people could die,โ says the consul.
A new tightness wraps itself around my chest. Heโs not wrong. My theories are only thatโtheories based on the small population of people in the Wilds. More people could die.
โOr more could live,โ says Corrick. โWhich I believe is an outcome we should all hope for.โ His tone is cold, and hope feels miles away. โDonโt you agree, Allisander?โ
โYou are going to contradict the royal physicians for some . . . someย girl? You go too far, Corrick. If there is another attack, I will halt my supply runs until you have determined who is responsible.โ
I suck in a breath.ย ๎ขis man controls the greatest supply of Moonย ower petals in Kandala. If he stops providing it, people will die.
Iโm not the only one who thinks so. A whisperย ies through the crowd beyond the guards.
Corrick takes a step forward, and the night is full of so much dangerous potential that I wonder if heโs going to strike the other man or order the guards to put an arrow through his back.
Instead, Corrick drops his voice to a level that wonโt be heard away from this table.ย ๎ขe edge leaves his tone. โItโs been a long day for us both. I let my temper get the best of me earlier. I was angry that the Benefactors seem to be funding these attacks, and I canโt force answers out of unconscious thieves. I shouldnโt have taken my frustrations out on you.โ He pauses. โLetโs not allow a few heated words to come between us.โ He gestures to the table. โPlease. Join us.โ
๎ขe consul hesitates, but now he looks uncertain instead of furious. โMy supply runsโโ
โAllisander.โ Corrick claps him on the shoulder like theyโre old friends. His voice is no longer so๎, and I can see necks craning to hear. โIโll grant you whatever you need to protect your people. As always.โ
Allisander clears his throat. โVery well.โ He glances at the table. โI will not intrude on your dinner.โ
โWill you be staying at the palace this evening?โ says Corrick. โPerhaps a game of chess in the morning. We could discuss some alternative methods of protecting your deliveries.โ
โGood.โ Consul Sallister tugs his jacket straight and takes a step back. โUntil tomorrow, then.โ
โI look forward to it,โ says Corrick.
A๎er the consul leaves, I expect Corrick to look aggrieved, but he doesnโt. He extends a hand toward my chair. โForgive the interruption. Please. Sit. Have you tried the bread?โ
I sit, but I stare at him. Heโs so formal and polite all of a sudden.ย ๎ขis is like Prince Corrick Number Four. Or maybe Number Nineteen. Iโve lost track.
He must notice my bewildered expression. โI donโt want anyone thinking Iโm upset about what just happened,โ he says, his tone low enough that his words are for me alone, but as perfectly even as when he mentioned the bread. โ๎ขe cheese is very good, too. Try some. I insist.โ
โAh . . . sure.โ I tear a piece of bread, trying to remember which knife was for cheese during my lesson with Mistress Kent.
Corrick li๎s one of his and taps it with his indexย nger, so I look for my own. Out of everything, these tiny kindnesses from him are the most unexpected. I follow his lead and spread cheese across the surface of the bread, then take a bite.
Itโs divine.ย ๎ขe cheese melts onto my tongue, and I nearly forget what just happened.
But now that weโre eating, the other patrons go back to their meals. Conversation regains the near-cacophony volume from before Corrick and Allisander argued.
I study the prince. Heโs such an enigma. Every time I think I understand the slightest thing about him, he does something new that doesnโt quite make sense. I canโt even tell who just gained groundโand who lost it.
He takes another piece of bread and slathers it with cheese. โI sense that you have questions.โ
โWho just yielded? Was it you or him?โ
โHe did,โ says Corrick. โBut it looks like I did, which is what matters. I canโt have the entire Royal Sector thinking Allisander will blockade access to the Moonย ower petals. Iโm surprised he didnโt start a riot right here.โ
โHe really controls so much?โ
โYes. But he also doesnโt want to cease his shipments, because weโd be forced to rely on Lissa Marpetta alone, which would mean her prices would increase, and he doesnโt want to give up one single coin of proย tโor the illusion of control.โ Corrick sighs, looking irritated. โBut if outlaws keep
attacking his supply run, it wonโt be worth it to him. Especially if someone with money is funding the attacks.โ
Outlaws. My chest is tight again. โHe said you have . . . prisoners.โ โI do.โ
I keep thinking of the way King Harristan said,ย Itโs the same to the night patrol. I have to force myself to swallow the food in my mouth, because itโs turned into a tasteless lump. โWhat . . . what are you going to do to them?โ
โIโm going to question them and see what they know.โ He pauses, his eyes holding mine, his tone level. โAnd then I will act accordingly.โ
He doesnโt say this in a challenging way, but I feel like heโs thrown down a gauntlet anyway.
On the day of the execution before the gates, I remember thinking of how horrible the king and the prince were. Prince Corrick stood on the stage, so cold and uncaring. I longed for a crossbow to shoot them both, to free Kandala from their tyranny.
But I didnโt know about Consul Sallister then. I feel like that shouldnโt matter when people are dead . . . but a๎er meeting him, I realize that it does. I mentally realign everything that happened the morning before the execution that turned into calls for revolutionโand the morning a๎erward.
Wes was unsettled. Troubled.
I think that very few people truly deserve what they get, Tessa. For good or for bad.
I told him he only deserved good things, and he looked away.
He saved me on the night my parents died. Heโs saved me countless times since.
Heโs been responsible for the deaths of countless people, too.
๎ขe kingโs voice is loud in my memories.
Every smuggler has a story to justify their actions.ย ๎ปe penalties are well known. How can I turn a blind eye to one type of thievery and not another?
๎ขere are too many layers here. I thought it was as simple as right or wrong . . . but itโs not. My chest feels tight again, and my eyes go hot.
Corrick picks up his wineglass. โIf you cry, Iโll be forced to comfort you.โ His tone says heโs teasingโbut also not. It helps chase my tears back.
โHowever will you manage?โ
โWell. Forewarning that Iโll have to do somethingย trulyย abhorrent to keep up my heartless reputation.โ
Something tells me heโs not wholly teasing about that either. Any emotion dries up. A serving girl appears with platters laden with slabs of beef surrounded by root vegetables and aย u๏ฌy circle of pastry painted with honey.
Once sheโs gone, I look at Corrick, who taps hisย nger against his fork before picking it up.
I mirror his movements gratefully, and we eat in silence for a moment. โDo you think the royal apothecaries will really listen to me?โ I venture
so๎ly.
โHarristan has ordered it.ย ๎ขey will.โ He rolls his eyes. โAnd heโs delivered a room full of records for me to review by tomorrow, so if I canย nd any evidence to back what youโve already discovered, it will help.โ
I straighten. โReally?โ
โYes. Between that and dealing with Allisanderโs prisoners, itโll likely take me all night.โ He gives me an ironic glance. โIโm soย veryย appreciative.โ
โWhy you?โ
โWhy not me? As much as you might like to imagine it, I donโt ride around in velvet carriages and order executionsย allย day.โ
Heโs challenging me again. Not directly, but I feel it. In a way, that reminds me of Weston Lark, too.
Corrick slices another piece of food. โDonโt pity me too much.โ
โI donโt pity you.โ I feel a bit breathless again. Every moment I spend here changes the way I feel about him and the way I feel about myself. โIf youโre trying toย gure out a way to make the medicine more e๏ฌective for all of Kandala, Iโm going to help you.โ
