Everything is happening too fast. Iโve got a rock in my hand and Iโm racing at the patrolman, but my thoughts are a tangled mess of panic and horror.
๎ขen Iโm leaping, jumping, swinging the rock as hard as I can. I hear theย swickย of the crossbow, then the crunch of my rock against the patrolmanโs head. He goes down.
A shadow rolls into me, and suddenly Corrick has the fallen patrolmanโs crossbow, and heโs reaching for an arrow.
Heโs not going to be fast enough.ย ๎ขere are three of them, and the other is already pointing, ready to shoot.
โNo!โ screams Forrest, surging o๏ฌย the ground to tackle the patrolman around the waist.
๎ขe man stumbles back a few feet, but Forrest isnโt big enough to bring him down.ย ๎ขe patrolman pulls a dagger. โYouย lthy bratโโ
Corrick shoots him in the face.
๎ขe man jerks and goes down. I gasp, choking on my breath.
But thereโs still one more, and heโs managed to reload. Corrick isย ghting for another arrow, but his movement is slow and clumsy. Heโll never be fast enough.
I yank the dagger from my boot, the gi๎ย Prince Corrick gave me during our carriage ride. I know the worst spots for a dagger to hit, and I donโt bother to aim carefully. I plunge the dagger into the patrolmanโs neck. He collapses.
๎ขe silence is sudden and weighted.
Forrest is panting, his breath coming in rapid, panicked gasps.
I might be doing the same thing. Myย ngers are sticky with blood.
Corrickย nishes loading the crossbow, and he seizes another two arrows to shove under his belt. โForrest,โ he says, and his voice is shockingly quiet
a๎er what just happened.
๎ขe boyโs gasps have turned to dry heaving, and his hands press tightly against his abdomen.
โForrest,โ Corrick says again. His voice is cool and authoritative, which shouldnโt be a surprise, but it is. Now I know why Wes was always so calm in the face of violence. He puts a hand against the boyโs shoulder. โ๎ขe bodies need to be burned. Is your da home? Strip their uniforms and hide them. If anyone sees the smoke, say they died of the feverโโ
โIโll help him.โ
๎ขe male voice comes from behind us, and Corrick whirls, the crossbow raised.
A young man has come through the trees, but he sees the crossbow and he li๎s his hands. Heโs wearing a hooded cloak, so I canโt make out much of his features in the dark, but his arm is thickly bandaged, theย ngers sti๏ฌย and swollen. He doesnโt look afraid. If anything, he looks long-su๏ฌering, like heโs used to weapons being pointed at him.
โGo ahead,โ he says to Forrest, nodding toward the village. โGet your da to help drag them to the pit.โ
๎ขe boy nods quickly and bolts.
Corrick hasnโt moved.ย ๎ขe crossbow is leveled with deadly aim.
โIโm Lochlan,โ the other man says. He o๏ฌers half a shrug. โYou can put down the bow. Weโre all doing the same thing.โ His eyes narrow. โOr were you looking to steal the boyโs pack?โ
โNo.โ Corrick still hasnโt looked away, and his voice is very low, very quiet. โTessa. Are you all right?โ
I havenโt given a momentโs thought to myself, and Iโm frozen by the unexpected tension that seems to have overtaken this small clearing. โIโ yes.โ
โTessa?โ says Lochlan. His tone is lazy, musing. โWould that make you Wes?โ
โHelp Forrest get rid of the bodies,โ says Corrick. โWe have rounds to make.โ
Lochlan keeps his hands up, but he moves closer, peering atย Wes. โIโve heard a lot of stories, but rumor said you were killed.โ
โStill alive,โ says Corrick. He doesnโt lower the crossbow.
โ๎ขereโs something . . . familiar about you,โ says Lochlan. โHave we met?โ
โNo.โ Corrick jerks his head toward the trees. โTessa. Head for our place.โ
I donโt understand whatโs happening, but I can hear the urgency in his voice. I donโt want to be unarmed, though. I have no idea how to use a crossbow, but I reach for the dagger and pull it free. It jerks out of the patrolmanโs neck with a horriย c squelching sound.
Lochlanโs eyes follow the motion. โ๎ขatโs a fancy dagger.โ
Something about the way he says it feels dangerous. โStolen,โ I say quickly. Too quickly. His eyes narrow further.
I think of the prince cautioning me in the room of the palace.ย Youโre too earnest.
Lochlan takes another step closer. His eyes have shi๎ed back to Corrick, lit with careful scrutiny.
โTessa,โ says Corrick. โGo. Now. Iโll follow.โ
Iโm not sure whatโs happening, but I donโt want to leave him. My heart beats hard in my chest.
But Lochlan takes a step back, tossing sandy hair back from his eyes. Any tension drains from the air. โGo ahead,โ he says. โIf youโre leaving the boyโs pack, Iโve got no trouble with you.โ He glances at the bodies and spits at the night patrol, then looks right back at Corrick. โIโll clean up your mess.โ
Corrick doesnโt move.
I reach for his arm, and itโs only then that I realize a wide swath of his shirt is blacker than the rest, and the sleeve is torn. Was he hit? I donโt see an arrow. But now I see that his hand is trembling, and his jaw looks more pale than it should be. โWes,โ I say. โWes, come on.โ
For an instant, I donโt think heโs going to follow. But then he steps past Lochlan, giving the other man a wide berth, and we let the darkness and the trees swallow us up.
 |
Corrickโs manner is tense and prickly, and he keeps casting glances over his shoulder, so I stay silent and close. He holds the crossbow assuredly, like heโs ready toย re a bolt at any moment. Iโve never seen him hold a weapon.
Iโve never seen him kill anyone, for that matter. Not like this.
I saw the a๎ere๏ฌects of what he had to do in the Hold, but that was di๏ฌerent.ย ๎ปisย is di๏ฌerent.ย ๎ขe night patrol would have killed that boy.ย ๎ขey
would have killed Corrick and me, too.
I swallow, tasting blood on my tongue. I donโt know if Iโve bitten my lip or if itโs just the scent in the air. My hands are still sticky with the patrolmanโs blood.
Iโm trying not to think about the fact that I killed someone, too.
I try to force the image out of my brain, but it doesnโt want to shake loose. Itโs too tangled up with the sound of the boy screaming for his father. Did we do the wrong thing?ย ๎ขe right thing? I have no idea.
We reach a small clearing, and Corrick puts up a hand for me to stop. Weโre not far from the workshop now, but Iโm savvy enough to know he thinks we might have been followed, so I stay silent and still while we wait.
Minutes tick by. I study the tear in his sleeve. His arm is awash with blood, and he hasnโt let go of the crossbow, so it must be mostly superย cial. Still, he needs a bandage, and maybe a sling. I remember the way hisย ngers trembled when he held the weapon upright.
๎ขen I realize Iโm being foolish. He canโt have a sling. How would Prince Corrick explain that away?
Everything happened so fast.ย Tooย fast.
Finally, an eternity later, Corrick nods to me, and we stride across the clearing.ย ๎ขe crossbow hangs at his side now, in the hand of his good arm. His shoulders are a bit less tense. Moonlight traces every inch of him, though, and I can see the hard set of his jaw, the tension that hasnโt quite escaped his eyes.
โWho was he?โ I say so๎ly, because itโs obvious that Corrick has some history with Lochlan.
โA prisoner in the Hold,โ he says, his voice barely more than a rasp on the night air. โI broke his wrist.โ
I swallow. Every time I want to forget who he is, fate seems determined to remind me. โWhy?โ
โHe was trying to kill Consul Sallister.โ He pauses. โHe was one of the three who escaped. During the riots.โ
โOh.โย ๎ขe sound eases out of me as I work that through in my head. โAnd heโs smuggling again.โ
โI spoke with Tris. Alfred is doing something for him. And we saw the other men in the woods.โ Corrick sighs tightly. โI wanted to talk to others, to see if I couldย nd out more.โ
I consider the way Lochlan watched me pull the dagger out of the patrolmanโs neck. โYou think he recognized you?โ
โI think he wasย closeย to recognizing me.โ
โDoes it matter? You said no one would believe me if I accused youโโ โIโm not worried about him accusing me.โ He breaks o๏ฌย and tugs at the
brim of his hat, then winces. โYou know who I am, Tessa. If Iโm caught by smugglersโโ
โ๎ขeyโd kill you.โ
He snorts. โNo. Iโd wish for them to kill me.ย ๎ขeyโd torture me and use me against Harristan.โ
He says it so simply, while a chill grips my spine at the thought. I hadnโt even considered. I remember the night he โdied,โ how he made a comment that he was surprised I wasnโt waiting to turn him in to the night patrol. A part of him reallyย wasย worried. Now I see why he was so tense, thinking Lochlan might have followed.
Corrick looks down at me. โIโm worried more about what theyโd do to you.โ
A shiver runs through me.
โI donโt like being out in the open,โ he says. โLetโs get to the workshop.โ
๎ขe workshop is cold from the night air, with a thin layer of dust on everything. Itโs clearly been le๎ย untouched since we were last here. He drags wood from the pile and tosses it into the hearth one-handed, which makes me think his arm is bothering him more than heโs letting on. He strikes a match and lights theย re while I use the broom to get rid of the worst of the cobwebs and dust. Itโs not long before the workshop is warm, lit with a glow.
Wes leans against the table, his eyes shadowed under the brim of his hat.
๎ขe crossbow sits right beside him.
Not Wes. Corrick.
I clear my throat and look away. โDo you want me to take a look at your arm?โ
โ๎ขe arrow clipped me. Iโmย ne.โ He tosses a small pouch onto the table. โTris said the Benefactors have been distributing medicine.โ
I pick it up and shake it out. Gray and white petalsย utter to the table, each one long and curved, though some are shorter, with a bit of a sharper angle at the top. I frown, but at my side, Wes isย exing his arm like it hurts.
I roll my eyes and step over to him, ignoring the petals. โDonโt be foolish. Iโve been watching you favor this for the last twenty minutes.โ I tear the gap in his sleeve wider.ย ๎ขe arrow sliced through the side of his upper arm, and he likely needs stitches, but I donโt have any supplies here.
โTake your shirt o๏ฌ,โ I say. โI have some muslin. Iโll wrap it.โ
He removes his hat, then drags his shirt over his head, and again heโs shirtless in front of me. Iโve seen the show before, but heโs got the mask on, and now itโs likeย Wesย disrobing, and for a long, awkward moment, my voice doesnโt want to work.
I focus on the wound, fetching water from our rain barrel to clean the blood away gently. I listen to him breathing, inhaling the scent of him in the warm closeness of the workshop.
๎ขis is too intimate. Words need to happen. โWhere did you learn to shoot like that?โ I say.
โIโm the brother to the king, Tessa.โ He says this like itโs amusing. โYouโve never interfered with the night patrol before.โ
๎ขat draws him up short, and he looks away. โItโs . . . di๏ฌerent now.โ He pauses. โAnd theyโre not supposed to slaughter people in the streets. Itโs part of why I was so angry at Allisander for having his guards rough up the last round of captives. Itโs one thing for me to issue an order of punishment, but I donโt torture people for the sport of it. My guards in the Hold arenโt cruel.
๎ขe night patrol shouldnโt be either. Forrest is a boy.ย ๎ขey could have arrested him.โ
โWell. You saw what they did to Mistress Kendall.โ โShe attacked them.โ
I try to remember. All that comes to mind is her grief. Does that matter? I canโt tell.
My parents attacked them. I remember that.ย Itโs the same to the night patrol.
I dry his arm carefully and tear long strips of muslin to make a bandage. โNo matter what youย say, ifย yourย actions are cruel, those who act on your behalf will do the same.โ
I expect him to deny it, or to o๏ฌer some kind of rebuttal, but he doesnโt. Instead, he says, โSo Iโve seen.โ
I meet his eyes. Cool blue stares back at me, no deceit or cunning in those depths.
โYou make me want to do better,โ he says suddenly, and his voice is thick with emotion, so I go still. โYou make me wish Weston Lark was real, because you will never look at me the way you look at him. I donโt know how toย x everything Iโve done wrong, Tessa. I donโt even know if Iย can. But I want to try.โ
I donโt know either. And no matter what he does as Kingโs Justice, it wonโt cure the fevers. It wonโtย x access to the Moonย ower. It wonโt stop the cries for revolution. He and Harristan have set things in motion that may never stop. Or maybe the execution of their parents did. Either way, the people of Kandala will never go back to the way they were before all of this happened.
But then I realize heโs not just talking aboutย xing everything for the people of Kandala.
Heโs talking aboutย xing everything forย me.
I tie o๏ฌย the bandage, but myย ngertips linger on the muscle of his bicep. โDoes it hurt?โ I whisper, and Iโm not entirely talking about the wound to
his arm.
โVery much.โ Neither is he.
I li๎ย a hand, pressing it to his cheek, and his breath hitches, just a little. His skin is warm against my palm, just a little rough. My thumb brushes along the curve of his lip, and I swear he stops breathing. Myย ngers tease at the edge of the mask the way Iโve done in the past.
I wait for him to duck away, to hide, but he doesnโt move. Myย ngertips slip under the edge of the fabric. It li๎s by an inch, then two, then reveals one blue eye smudged with kohl.
His gaze never leaves mine. His lips part, and a breath escapes.
And then he reaches up to tear the rest of the mask away, and Iโm le๎ย facing Prince Corrick in the tight warmth of our workshop.
๎ขe mask drops on the table beside the crossbow. His chest is rising and falling rapidly, and his hands look like they want to reach for me, but heโs waiting. For me.
Iโve spent so much time wondering how a terrible man like Prince Corrick could spend hours secretly helping the people of Kandala, when Iโve been looking at it backward all along. I should have been wondering how a man who wants so badly to be kind and good, to doย right, would be able to
hide the truest parts of himself away to support his brother and protect his people.
โHello,โ I say so๎ly. โCorrick.โ
A light sparks in his eyes. โI donโt think Iโve heard you say my name before.โ
โCorrick,โ I say again, and his eyes close for a moment while he takes a long breath.
I press a palm to his cheek again, and now thereโs no mask between us. His eyesย ick open, and heโs closer suddenly. I donโt know if thatโs his doing or mine.
โCorrick,โ I whisper.
His hand lands on my waist, very lightly, very gently.ย ๎ขe other strokes a line across my cheek, and I remember Iโm still wearing a mask.
He gives it the slightest tug. โMay I?โ I hold my breath and nod.
Heโs slow and delicate and itโs torture. Weโre close enough that I can feel the heat of his body. He unties the knot, and my mask slips away.
He leans in to pull the cord that keeps my braid in place, and my hair slips across my shoulders. His breath caresses my ear. โSay it again,โ he whispers.
โCorrick,โ I exhale. His thumb strokes across my lower lip, and my breath shudders.
Heโs so close that myย ngertipsย nd the bare skin of his chest, and it lights aย re in my belly. โCory?โ I try.
A low sound escapes his throat. โLord, Tessa.โ His hands lock on my waist, and his lipsย nd mine.
His touch was so slow and tentative that I expect his kiss to be the same, but his mouth is sure and determined. When my lips part, his tongue teases at mine, drawing a gasp that he inhales. He tastes like cinnamon and sugar, and my hands stroke up the length of his chest toย nd his broad shoulders, his sloping neck, his muscled arms. I expect to feel hesitant, the way I did in the palace when he almost kissed me, but I donโt.
Because this is di๏ฌerent.ย ๎ขis is our space. Heโs not Wes, because there is no Wes, not really. Heโs Corrick. Heโsย alwaysย been Corrick. Everything weโve done together is a part of who he is.
Without warning, his hands close on my waist tightly, and Iโm li๎ed to settle on the table. My legs fall apart, and he steps into me, my skirts
bunching around him, his mouthย nding mine again. Heโs closer now, his hands freer. I explore the warm stretch of his waist, the curved muscle of his back. His lips dri๎ย down my jaw, his teeth dragging at the sensitive skin below my ear, nibbling along my neck. Every nerve ending in my body is
ring, and I want him closer. My hands slide along the waist of his trousers, the skin there so๎er than silk.
One of his handsย nds my knee, hisย ngers dri๎ing along the outside of my thigh. I suck in a breath and pull him closer, and he buries his face in my neck to make a sound thatโs very much like a low growl. Our hips meet, and I cling to him, myย ngers digging into his skin. His hand skims higher along my thigh, until I see stars and shiver.ย ๎ขis time when he kisses me, heโs slow and sure, one arm holding me against him so tightly that I can feel his heart beat against mine.
โTessa,โ he whispers, and my name sounds like a plea. โOh, Tessa.โ โSay it again,โ I tease, and I feel his smile against my lips.
๎ขe alarm in the Royal Sector pierces the night, and I freeze. So does Corrick.
His breathing is shuddering. I have to close my eyes. โ๎ขeyโve caught someone,โ I whisper.
Someone heโll have to deal with. Someone he might have to execute. I pull my hands to my chest.
A๎er a moment, Corrickโs gentleย ngers settle on my wrists. His lips brush against my temple.
He sighs. I sigh.
โWe need toย nish our rounds,โ he says. Heย nds his shirt and slips his arms through the sleeves. โWeโll head toward Artis and see what we can discover before daybreak.โ
And a๎er that, weโll have to go back. Heโll need to be the Kingโs Justice.
I donโt need to say it. He knows it, too.ย ๎ขe disarmed look is gone from his eye, and cool Prince Corrick looks down at me.
He scoops me o๏ฌย the table, setting me on my feet. He draws my hand to his mouth and kisses it.ย ๎ขen he grabs his mask and ties it in place. โYours too,โ he says.
I rebraid my hair, trying to ignore the tightening of my throat. Myย ngers are trembling and donโt want to work right.
Maybe he can tell, because Corrick takes the ends of my mask in his
ngers and ties it gently.
โYou were right,โ he says. โI should have listened to you in the beginning.
When it comes to revolution, we should be riding at the front.โ I widen my eyes as my head spins. โYou mean as outlaws?โ
โNo. I mean as Prince Corrick and his brilliant apothecary. Weston Lark canโt step out of the shadows.โ He pauses. โBut the Kingโs Justice can.โ
My heart skips.
โDonโt worry,โ he says so๎ly. โIโll be better.โย ๎ขen he drops one last kiss on my lips. โWeโll pick that up later,โ he says in that rough-growl voice, and goose bumps spring up everywhere. I shiver as he reaches for the door to swing it wide.
On the other side, backed by eight men, stands Lochlan, his crossbow pointed right at Corrick.
