Iย donโt know where to take him, but I couldnโt keep standing in that tiny room.ย ๎ขe scent of blood and death was thick in the air. I wish we could walk straight out of the sector and get lost in the Wilds, but I already know he wonโt leave his brother.
Instead, I lead him toward the palace.ย ๎ขe lights out front are bright, the cobblestones glistening. Horses and carriages still clatter over the cobblestones despite the late hour, as messages about the explosions are sent and elites come and go. When Harristanโs guard led me out of the palace, the halls were busy with activity, and I doubt thatโs changed much.
I donโt want to think about what Corrick has done.ย ๎ขereโs blood all over him, so I know it was violent. His blue eyes are hollow and haunted, so I know it was terrible. When we found him in the shadowed chamber of the Hold, a part of me wanted to run screamingโuntil I saw the anguish in his expression.
โRocco,โ I say quietly. โWe canโt go through the main doors. He canโt go through the palace like this.โ
โ๎ขey know what I am,โ says Corrick. He still looksย ighty, his eyes a bit wild, but thereโs an element of challenge to his voice. I wonder if this is how he convinces himself to do the things he does.
I ignore him. โMaybe a back entrance?โ I say to the guard. โNo,โ says Corrick.
โWe could enter through the servantsโ entrance,โ says Rocco. โ๎ขe day sta๏ฌย is gone.ย ๎ขere are washrooms and fresh linens.โ
โNo.โ Corrick seems to draw himself up, but heโs glaring at Rocco, not at me. โI will not sneak into the palace.โ
I canโt tell how much of this is deย ance and how much is some form of self-preservation. Either way, I should let him do whatever he wants. Heโs the
prince, and Iโm . . . no one. But Iโve only been here a day and I know how much rumor and appearances matter, and I know that right now, he canโt a๏ฌord to appear weak. Walking through the palace covered in blood certainly doesnโt seem like a vision of strength. I consider the note in his voice when he realized I was with Rocco and not his brother.
โWould the king want you to be seen this way?โ I say. โDo I look so terrible, Tessa?โ he says.
Yes. But not in the way he means. โYou look . . . desperate.โ
๎ขat seems to hit him like a dart.ย ๎ขeย ght drains from his eyes. โFine.โ
 |
๎ขe servantsโ entrance is the same locked passageway I used when Iย rst came to the palace, and itโs just as deserted as it was when I snuck into the back stairwell.ย ๎ขe washroom is massive, with electric lights and running water, and several large tubs. I see stacks and stacks of folded linens and a massive hearth and realize this is a room for laundry.
Well, of course. I wouldnโt expect anyone in the palace to be scrubbing fabrics in the stream or hanging tunics in the sunlight. In the corner is a dress form with a maidโs frock pinned to it, with a few sewing tables and yards of fabric strewn about. A long mirror is bolted to the wall, and Corrick walks past it on his way to one of the wash basins. I watch as his step falters and his eyes shy away, but he doesnโt stop moving.
โYour Highness,โ says Rocco. โShall I call for a steward?โ
โNo. Guard the door.โ He tugs at the buttons of his jacket just asย ercely.
I hover between the doorway and the basin. I donโt know if he wants me to wait in the hall with the guard or if I should go back to my roomโor if I should stay right here.
I donโt know whatย Iย want to do.
โWhy did you come looking for me?โ he asks. His voice is a bit husky but a bit angry, too. โDid you think you could stop me?โ
โI knew you wouldnโt stop yourself.โ
His hands freeze on the buttons, and itโs only then that I realize heโs trembling.
I step over to him and place myย ngers over his, tugging a button free. โStop,โ he says. โI can unbutton my coat.โ
I smack hisย ngers hard, like heโs a child whoโs been told not to touch the hot stove but does it anyway. I think I shock him, because he jerks them away.
I sigh and pull the next button free.ย ๎ขe fabric is tacky, and I try to ignore why, keeping my eyes on what Iโm doing.
โIf you know I can see through all your illusions,โ I say so๎ly, โyou might as well stop trying to throw them in my path. I know who you are. I know what youโve done.โ I glance up, and I canโt decide if I hate him or if I pity himโor something else altogether. โI seeย you. I see what this is doing to you.ย Hasย done to you.โ
He goes very still, but his breathing sounds shallow. He blinks, and to my absolute shock, his eyesย ll.
He must realize it at the same time, because he jerks back, turning away, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. โLord, Tessa.โ
Seeing his ready emotion summons my own, and I feel my chest tighten. He looked broken in the chamber of the Hold. He looks broken now, like sheer strength of will is all thatโs holding him together.
I touch his arm, and he jolts. His hands drop to his sides, formingย sts the way they did in the shadowed chamber. His eyes are red-rimmed but dry. โStop,โ he says.
๎ขe word sounds like a warning. A plea. I stop.
He has all the power here, but he faces me like I do. He doesnโt want to admit what heโs done, and I donโt want to ask, but the question is strung between us and someone has to grab hold. I have to clear my throat to speak. โDid you kill those prisoners?โ
He doesnโt look away, and he doesnโt hesitate. โYes.โ
๎ขe silence that follows that wordย lls the room until thereโs no air le๎ย to breathe. I think of Consul Sallister, who was so terrible at dinner, and the control he has over Corrick and Harristan.ย ๎ขe control he has over the entire country.
I think of King Harristanโs voice when he said that the Kingโs Justice canโt be lenient when people are bombing the prison.
Killing people isย wrong. I feel that to my core. I couldnโt kill the king when I had the opportunityโnot even when I was certain he deserved it. But like the king said, the penalties for smuggling are well known. Some of the
people in the Hold were true smugglersโbut some werenโt. Bombing the Hold was wrong, too.
Does any of that excuse Corrickโs actions?
I can tell he doesnโt think so. He wears the guilt like a mantle. I thought that all his power lay in his role here, as Kingโs Justice, but it doesnโt.
๎ขe only power he had was in the Wilds, as Wes. And now thatโs gone.
I swallow. โWhat happened?โ โYou heard Allisander.โ
โYes. I did. What happened?โ
He doesnโt answer for so long that I think heโs not going to. But then he says, โ๎ขey were badly burned in the explosion.โ His voice is rough, like heโs swallowedย re. โHardly conscious.ย ๎ขey werenโt captured.ย ๎ขey couldnโt have escaped.โ He runs a hand through his hair, and it must be sticky because he grimaces and yanks it free. Heโs not looking at me now. โ๎ขey wouldnโt have survived the night.โ
โWhyโโ My voice cracks, and I take a breath to steady it. โWhy are youโ why are youโโ I gesture at his clothing, and my breath shudders. โ๎ขereโs so much blood.โ
โBecause I wanted it to be fast.โ His eyes meet mine now, and Iโm sure heโs seeing the horror in my expression. โI needed it to be fast.โ
๎ขereโs a note in his voice that I canโt quiteย gure out, but my heart must be ahead of my brain, because my pulse begins to ease, the panic draining out of my chest before I understand: he didnโt want to do it, but if he had to, he was going to make it as quick and painless as possible.
In a way that looked as brutal as possible.
๎ปey wouldnโt have survived the night.
He made an execution out of an act of mercy.
I wonder how many times heโs had to do that. How many times heโs had to choose the lesser of two evils, because the option was to execute a prisoner or to watch more people die for lack of medicine. Itโs a terrible choice to have to make. A terrible position.
I think back to the moment we were poring over maps, when the tiniest bit of hopeย ickered in the air. I wonder if the explosions burned it out, if thereโs nothing le๎.
โDonโt pity me,โ Corrick says. โIf you pity anyone, pity them.โ
โI do,โ I say. But I pity him, too. I canโt hate him anymore.
He sighs and leans back against the wall. He presses the heels of his hands to his eyes again. โLeave me alone, Tessa.โ
I blow a breath out through my teeth and step forward, catching the edges of his jacket between myย ngers.
He startles and jerks his hands down.
โMind your mettle,โ I say as I work the buttons. He blinks. Scowls. โI told youโโ
โYou told me a lot of things. Maybe you could shut up for a minute and let me think.โ
He shuts up, but I donโt think. Not really. I keep my eyes on my task until the last of the buttons slip free. โTake that o๏ฌ,โ I say as I turn away to tug at the chains that will make the faucets run.ย ๎ขe rush of water roars in the silence.
โWash your hands and face,โ I say. I plug the drain and dip my hand in the water to check the temperature. Flecks of blood and dirt had clung to my
ngertips from where I touched him, but they swirl away into nothing. I start to turn back around. โIโll see if I canย nd a washโโ
I stop short.ย ๎ขe breath rushes out of my lungs.
He hasnโt just removed the jacket. Heโs removed his shirt, too, leaving his upper body bare, his trousers hanging low on his hips. He doesnโt look like a blood-soaked villain anymore; he looks warm, somehow simultaneously vulnerable yetย erce. Muscle crawls across his shoulders and down his arms, revealing various scars, from what looks like a puncture wound in his abdomen to what must have been a knife or a dagger bisecting his bicep. My eyes lock on to the faint tracing of hair that starts below his navel and disappears under his waistband.
Corrick clears his throat, and I jerk my gaze up. My cheeks are onย re. โMindย yourย mettle,โ he says.
โI hate you.โ
โHmm. Not too much, it seems.โ He steps into my space, and I nearly trip over my own feet to get out of his way, but heโs only moving to thrust his hands under theย ow of water.
Iโm such a fool. I canโt be lusting a๎er him. Not now. Not ever.
My heart doesnโt care. Other parts of me donโt care. My whole body is a traitor.
โDidnโt you say you were going toย nd a washrag?โ he says pointedly. โOh! Yes. Of course.โย ๎ขis time I do stumble over my feet. But Iย nd a
washrag and bring it back to him, trying not to look at the long slope of his back, or the way his waist narrows beneath his ribs, or the long jagged scar thatโs partially hidden by his waistband.
โYou have a lot of scars,โ I say.
โSmugglers arenโt generally a very agreeable sort.โ He bends over the basin, soaks the rag, and scrubs at his face. โSometimes I try to ask questions and they have other ideas.โ
Interesting.
But it gives my brain something to latch on to aside from wondering what his skin feels like. My cheeks are burning, but I keep my eyes locked ahead, on the far wall. โDid you get a chance to question the prisoners who escaped tonight?โ
โNo. I was busy reading maps with you and watching the sector go up in
ames.โ
โSo none of them?โ
He scrubs at his face with the rag again and turns to look at me. โNo.
Why?โ
โConsul Sallister made a comment about โroughshod laborers.โ All the rumors said the smugglers from Steel City were young and disorganized.โ I consider the explosions outside the window. โ๎ขis seems really organized.โ
โYes,โ he agrees. โ๎ขeyโre getting money from somewhere.ย ๎ขese Benefactors must be well funded.ย ๎ขere are many theories that the money is coming from inside the palace.โ He ducks his head to splash more water on his face.
I think back to the conversations we had as Wes and Tessa, when he so adamantly declared that he wasnโt a smuggler and he wasnโt in this for personal gain. Heโd looked haunted then, and I thought it was for the same reasons I was. Now I know the truth. โDid you question them?ย ๎ขe prisoners from Steel City?โ
โYes. No one led me to believe they were part of some master plot.โ He rakes his hands through his hair, which is now dripping water onto his chest. โ๎ขey called for revolution and . . .โ He shrugs. โYou were there.โ
๎ขe execution turned into a riot. Prisoners escaped.
I wonder how Corrick was planning to execute them. Iโm scared to ask.
๎ขat tempers some of myย ames.
He tugs at the chains to stop theย ow of water, then turns around to lean back against the basin. โIf thereโs an underground network of smugglers funded by these Benefactors, theyโre too well hidden. No one will admit anything to the night patrol. No one will speak to me, certainly.โ
Funny how that happens when you kill everyone.ย ๎ขe words sit on the tip of my tongue, but I donโt say them. I donโt think he needs me to.
I donโt want to stare at himโwell, my traitorous eyes do, but thatโs not going anywhere good. I turn away andย nd a so๎ย towel on a shelf, then turn to bring it back.
Heโs standing right behind me.
I suck in a breath and shove it against his chest. โHere.โ โ๎ขank you.โ But he doesnโt move.
โWhat will Allisander do now?โ I say.
Corrick shakes out the towel and drags it across his skin. โHe vomited in the hallway of the Hold, so hopefully I was convincing that Iโll take a hard line on any further attacks.โ
โWhich means you think there will be more.โ
โYes.โ Heย nally meets my eyes. โI think there will be more.โ He pauses. โAnd I think, a๎er todayโs attacks, they will be more violent and even better planned. Word will spread quickly that this rescue mission was successful.
๎ขe people will be emboldened.ย ๎ขis isnโt just about funding rebels. If we have organized attacks on supply runs in addition to calls for rebellion in the streets, well . . .โ His voice trails o๏ฌ.
โYou think Allisander will stop supplying the Moonย ower.โ โNo. I think weโll face a full-on revolution.โ
What did Harristan say?ย Itโs easy to love your king when everyone is well fed and healthy. A bit harder when everyone is not. Heโs not wrong. But seeing things from this side makes it all so much more complicated. Revolution will mean more deathsโnot just from violence, but from the fevers as well, as medicine becomes restricted.
I look into Corrickโs eyes and remember how I stood in the darkness with him and begged for revolution. I begged him to stand at the front with meโ but I didnโt have a plan. I donโt have one now.
Now I understand what he was telling me that night.ย Rebellion wonโt stop the fevers, Tessa.
A revolution might remove Harristan and Corrick from power, but it wonโt stop the illnesses. It wonโt force Allisander to provide more medicine. If anything, itโll be harder to come by.
And if the king is busyย ghting a revolution, he wonโt be able to spare the expense to look for alternate ways to cure the fevers. Kandala will tear itself apart.
โRoydan and Arella have already begun to have secret meetings,โ Corrick says. โItโs possible the other consuls have, too. Allisander and Lissa have a private army. If this comes to revolution, it might not just be the people against the throne.โ
โIt might be sector against sector,โ I whisper. โIt really is hopeless.โ Corrick nods.
โBut if we stop the attacksโโ
โIt wonโt stop a rebellion. Again, thatโs a bigย if. I can hardly stop them now.โ
Heโs right. I know heโs right. And like he said earlier, if royal advisers havenโt been able to solve the problem, itโs unlikely weโre going to solve it in the dead of night in a washroom.
๎ขe blood is gone, and Corrickโs hair is slicked back, but the haunted look hasnโt le๎ย his face. I watched his eyes light up when he saw Rocco in the Hold. Was he hoping for Harristan? Is the king not involved in what Corrick is tasked with doing? Does he deliberately keep himself at a distance, or does Corrick try to shield him from it? I canโt decide which is worse, but I watched his eyesย ll a few moments ago, and I think both options are horrible.
โ๎ขe night patrol will be more brutal now,โ I say quietly.
He looks back at me for the longest moment, his expression inscrutableโ then scrubs his hands over his face and makes a sound thatโs half aggravation, half anguish. โI canโt call them o๏ฌ, Tessa. Iย canโt. Allisander would stop his shipments. Harristan wouldโโ
โI know.โ
โโnever be able to back it.ย ๎ขe rebels setย re to the sectorโโ โI know.โ
He breaks o๏ฌ, breathing heavily. โI donโt know how to stop it,โ he says. โI canโt evenย gure out whoโs funding these rebelsโor why. Is this an attack on Harristan? Or is this a bid for medicine? Or both?โ
So many questionsโand as usual, no answers. I put aย nger to my lip to think. A week ago, I might have beenย ghting on the side of the Benefactors. A๎er seeing the destruction theyโve caused, I donโt know if thatโs the right side either.
But Corrick is right: if he canโt stop the attacks, he has no leverageโand no way to stop the violence on either side. We need toย nd out who the Benefactors are.
As soon as I have the thought, I realize how to do it. โPeople will talk,โ I say suddenly.
โOf course,โ he says. โEveryone talks.โ
I shake my head quickly. โNoโI mean youโve been going about this the wrong way. Youโve been interrogating people as Kingโs Justice.โ
โShall I have Harristan do it?โ He rolls his eyes and turns away. โIโm sure that will be much less threatening.โ
โNo.โ I catch his arm, and he turns back to look at me. โNot Harristan.โ โ๎ขen who?โ
โYou and me.โ
His expression turns skeptical, so I rush on. โNot as prince and . . . and apothecary.โ I take a deep breath. โAs outlaws.โ
โAs outlaws.โ
โYes.โ I pause and stare up into his blue eyes, remembering the way they looked behind a mask. โWe talk to people as Weston Lark and Tessa Cade.โ
