We prepare to leave the palace with more supplies than I expected. Rian provides a wagon loaded with rolls of muslin, sacks of grain, and bales of hay. There are two crates filled with jars of everything I can imagine, from dried herbs to pickled vegetables to cooking supplies. Not one but three rolls of sailcloth, as well as two new fishing nets and another set of oars. A leather folio has been tucked along the front seat of the wagon with a set of maps, too. Two small hatches near the front of the wagon will do for chickens once we pass back through town, along with a larger pen tied to the back for goats or even a calf, if we get that lucky. Rian gives me a small sack of silver once we’re done inspecting everything, telling me to thread it through my dagger belt.
“This is it?” I say to him with a raised eyebrow, even though I can feel the weight of it, and I’m sure it’s more than enough.
“No,” he says, regardless. “The wagon has a false bottom under the hay bales, in case you encounter thieves. In it, you’ll find a small chest with more.”
Oh. Well, that’s surprising. I’m still angry at him, so I don’t want to offer him one single speck of gratitude—but if I’m an absolute shrew, there’s a chance he’ll never give me anything again. “I’ll be sure to put it to good use,” I say instead.
He’s given us four horses as well: two in harness to pull the wagon, and two tethered behind. “All four are broke for riding,” he tells me. “So you’ll have spares in case any go lame.”
I’d only just begun to learn to ride in Kandala with Corrick, but now doesn’t seem the time to tell him that. I nod and refuse to look at him. “These are more than enough.”
Then I climb into the wagon beside Rocco, and the guardsman takes up the reins.
Rian steps close to the wagon. “I’m not your enemy, Tessa.”
That finally gets my attention, and I meet his eyes. “Your entire country is now my prison, Your Majesty. If I’m not your enemy, then find a way to send me home.”
I turn my head to tell Rocco to go, but his career as the king’s guard must have given him a talent for reading between the lines, because he snaps the whip and the horses trot forward, leaving the palace behind.
It’s dusk, and I expect Rocco to talk about how horribly that went, but he says nothing—so I say nothing. My stomach is curling with guilt, because I feel like I’ve failed, and I’m worried he’s thinking the same thing. The longer the silence continues, the more sure I am. So the wagon rattles along in silence for a while, until a few stars appear overhead and the citadel disappears behind us.
Eventually, we reach the villages at the top of the hill, and I’m glad we have the wagon, because it’s steeper than it looked going down. The streets are still crowded, and food vendors are everywhere now, the scents making my mouth water at every turn. When we stop to buy chickens, there’s a young man at a stall across the road selling small pockets of dough stuffed with meat and corn and cheese. He also has stoppered jugs of sugared tea.
“My sister hung the jugs down the well all day, miss,” he tells me. Dark hair hangs in his eyes, but it’s been chopped off at the neck. “So they’re still cold.”
I touch one of the glass jugs, and to my surprise, they are cold, speckled with condensation. “I’ll take two,” I say. “And four of the dough pockets.”
He smiles and begins to wrap the food in wax paper. “Hungry, hmm?”
“It’s not all for me.” I gesture over my shoulder at where Rocco is latching several hens into the small hutches in the wagon.
The young man’s eyes widen when he takes in Rocco’s size, and then he grins. “Well, I should give you a fifth one for him, or I’ll worry the chickens won’t make it back to wherever you’re going.” He slips the food into a cloth satchel for me, then waves off my hand full of coins. “Keep your silver. No charge.”
“Oh! That’s very kind, but you don’t have to do that. I can pay—”
“You’re from Kandala. Rumor says your king has finally seen fit to help us, so I can help you.”
I freeze in place, because I’m not sure what to say. I don’t know if Kandala will be able to help these people at all.
But I also don’t want to smack away his generosity. I give him a nod. “That’s very kind. Thank you.” I hesitate. “I’m Tessa Cade. The guardsman is Erik Rocco. We came on the ship from Kandala.”
“I’m Henry.” He’s younger than I am, but not by much. He tucks some of that hair behind an ear, and sharp brown eyes glance at Rocco again, then back at me. “A lot of us saw you pass through before. If you stop at the tavern, they’re probably still laying bets on whether you’re royalty.”
That startles a laugh out of me, and I remember the gossiping women speculating over whether I was a princess. “No, I’m definitely not royalty.”
Rocco climbs down from the wagon, and he must overhear us, because he says, “Miss Tessa is the king of Kandala’s personal apothecary and adviser.”
Henry’s eyes sharpen further. “Is that so?”
My heart gives a little jolt, like Rocco is lying. I almost want to deny it—even though I suppose it’s true. Rocco just makes it all sound so official, when I quite accidentally fell into the role.
But I nod, then shrug a little, because I don’t want to put on airs. “I’ll be coming through town again in the next few days to put together more supplies. I told your king I’ll be available to his people while we’re here, so if you know of anyone who’s sick, or ailing, or needs—”
“Oh, there are plenty of people who are sick and ailing,” Henry says. His eyebrows go up, and he glances at Rocco again. “The king of Kandala would share his personal apothecary?”
“I—ah, yes. He would.” I honestly have no idea, but King Harristan isn’t here, and it’s not as if I can say he’s a selfish lout who’d keep me all to himself. I consider Henry’s comment about plenty of people. “Would you be able to let anyone know that if they need my services, we can come back here . . .” I think quickly, trying to remember the state of my apothecary kit back at the house, and how long it might take to put things together and make some salves and tonics. “Ah . . . the morning after tomorrow?” I look at Rocco for confirmation, since I’ll need him to drive the wagon, and he nods. “It’ll take a little time to put a full kit together, but I can make a few basic supplies to start with.”
Henry nods. “My sister works in the courier’s office, so she can spread the word.”
“Good.” I smile. “Thank you for the food.”
He gives me a nod. “You’re welcome, Tessa Cade.” He smiles at Rocco. “And Erik Rocco.”
Then we’re off again.
We eat in silence, and the food is delicious, the sugared tea a relief after the heat of the day. The horses clop along at a walk, and the chickens cluck at our backs as the last of the light fades, leaving a sky full of stars twinkling overhead.
Rocco is the first to break the weird silence between us. “It’s late, and Rian mentioned thieves, Miss Tessa,” he says. “We could leave the goat for tomorrow.”
I can’t read anything from his voice. “Sure,” I say. “We have enough to unload already.”
“I could return on my own,” he says.
I hesitate. “You don’t want my help?” Though maybe that’s a stupid question. I can’t drive the wagon. And I doubt I know any more about goats than he does.
Maybe he just doesn’t want my company after I wrecked our chance to get back to Kandala.
He glances over. “I didn’t want you to feel you had to take time away from preparing your apothecary kit.”
Oh. I stare out at the darkened path. “I’ll probably need to get more supplies once I take stock of everything, so we can go together.” I hesitate again. “If that’s all right.”
“Of course.”
We’re quiet again for a little while, until we both turn toward each other at the same time.
“I’m sorry—” I begin.
“Forgive me—” Rocco starts.
But we both break off, staring at each other.
Eventually, he has to look back at the road, and he adjusts the reins. “Why are you apologizing?”
“Because I couldn’t do it,” I say. “I couldn’t convince him to take us back to Kandala.” I frown and fold my arms against my stomach. “I just saw the ship in the harbor, and it reminded me of . . . everything.”
“It’s not your fault,” he says. “None of this is your fault. It’s not your responsibility to get us back. It’s not even your responsibility to help Rian’s people.”
“I can’t keep doing nothing,” I say. “You were right before. I need to move.” I look up at the stars and think back to when I was younger. I was so eager to help my father each day. He was always patient, even when I was very young, showing me every herb, every plant, every leaf, every petal. I learned how to make teas and elixirs and how to grind roots into dust, and how to weigh and level right down to the tiniest measurements. My father was careful and composed, so I learned to be careful and composed. With people, my mother was gentle and kind, so at her side, I learned to be gentle and kind. When the fever sickness began to spread, much changed—but not his patience and composure. Not her kindness. We were distributing stolen Moonflower, and I knew it was a risk. But they were willing to risk their lives to save others, so I was too.
I consider all my father’s books and records and ledgers, some of which I have in my pack back at the house. All his research, and he never suspected poison. None of us did. Well, someone in Kandala knew—and they were doing it deliberately. This is worse than simply making profits off the medicine. I keep waiting for this to hit me like a fresh round of loss, but maybe there’s been too much. The sadness is already too thick, and there’s no room for more.
“When my parents died,” I say, “Wes was the only thing that kept me going. He was risking his life to help the people, so that’s how I made it through each day. Knowing he’d be waiting for me in the workshop that night.”
“Do you mean His Highness?”
I blink and realize I said Wes. In my memories, he’s still Weston Lark. My throat goes tight, and I swallow thickly. “Yes.”
“And you truly never knew he was the King’s Justice?”
“No. Never.” I wait for this line of conversation to summon my grief, but somehow my heart only feels fondness. Maybe because I already grieved Wes once, and this feels different. “Sometimes Wes and I would even talk about how terrible the king and his brother were.”
“Really.”
I nod, remembering. “Though I suppose I was always the one to start those kinds of conversations. It’s not like he could have argued with me about it. What would he have said?” I drop my voice and imitate Wes—Corrick. “ ‘Lord, Tessa. King Harristan really isn’t that bad once you get to know him.’ ”
Though now that I think about it, I remember some of our conversations.
I hate the king and his brother, I’d say. I hate the things that they do.
Wes would always agree with me without hesitation.
Corrick didn’t hate his brother, but I know now that he hated his role.
Rocco glances over, and there’s a bit of intrigue in his voice when he says, “How did the prince slip past the guards, night after night? Do you know?”
I look at him in surprise. “You don’t know?”
“No. He couldn’t have been climbing a rope from his chambers every night. There was a night on the ship when Liam and I were playing cards—”
“Wait. Liam?”
He grimaces. “Kilbourne.”
I frown. Until now, I didn’t know his first name. I feel like I should have. “Sorry. Continue.”
“We spent the whole time trying to figure it out. Was he bribing a guard? Or a group of guards?” He shakes his head without waiting for an answer. “I can’t imagine. There was too much turnover. He wouldn’t have been able to keep it a secret for years.”
I hold my breath for a moment. I don’t want to give up Corrick’s confidence—but at this point, maybe it doesn’t matter.
“I don’t know all of his paths in and out of the palace,” I say softly, “but I know he had Quint.”
Rocco goes still. “Ah.” He considers that for a little while, then looks at me. “It doesn’t explain how he got out of the palace without being seen, though. Master Quint wouldn’t have been able to distract all the guards.”
“He told me there are spy tunnels all over the Royal Sector. We used one of them when we escaped the attack. You remember. At the back of the palace gardens. Downhill from Stonehammer’s Arch.”
He frowns. “Those spy tunnels are caved in.”
I shake my head. “Corrick said a lot of them are, but you can still slip through if you know how. He said he and the king used to use them all the time when they were younger.” I mentally do the math and realize Rocco was probably a guardsman during the time Harristan was slipping out of the palace as a teenager, dragging a rebellious young Corrick behind him.
Rocco scowls, but he’s also nodding like I’ve helped him solve a riddle. “No wonder the king was able to show up at the docks the night we left. None of us were expecting him there.”
“That’s right,” I whisper. I’d forgotten that the king snuck into Prince Corrick’s carriage.
Rocco nods. “They never travel together. It’s too great a risk. And it certainly wasn’t planned. None of His Majesty’s personal guard were with them.”
A sudden wave of emotion threatens to overwhelm me. That would have been the last time they saw each other. The brothers’ closeness was something very special, very touching, that they always seemed to feel the need to hide. I’m glad Corrick and Harristan had those private moments, instead of whatever public farewell was required of them.
The night is growing darker, and I need to think of something else, or I’m going to start crying again. I fight for other thoughts, and I remember that we both began to apologize, but he never finished his.
“What—” My voice is breathy, and I sniff back the waiting tears. “What were you going to apologize for?” I ask Rocco.
He’s quiet for a moment. “I pushed you to confront him. I didn’t intend to cause you so much distress.” He pauses. “I’m sorry.”
“No, I needed to do it. I’m glad you pushed me.” I roll my eyes. “I do wish I hadn’t thrown up on him.”
“Are you kidding? That was my favorite part.”
That makes me giggle, and it’s enough to chase any risk of tears away. But eventually, silence grows between us again, and I don’t want sorrow to fill the space. “Was Rian right?” I say softly. “Are you worried about facing the king if we get back?”
He makes a frustrated sound. “That was Rian attempting to manipulate you. Or maybe he and his people really do suspect the worst of everyone from Kandala.” His jaw tightens. “But I volunteered for this journey, so I’ll see it through. I swore an oath to the king. In all those long hours I’ve stood guard over countless meetings, I’ve never once heard him not do right by his people.”
I nod, remembering the first time I sat and faced King Harristan myself. I remember being surprised by the same thing. So many people in Kandala think he’s horrible, but he isn’t. Not at all. He truly cares, and he’s trying to protect everyone the best way he can.
We hit a bump in the road, and Rocco makes a small sound of discomfort. He shifts on the bench next to me, pressing a hand to his side, then shifts again, before sighing and shaking out the reins, clucking to the horses to pick up the pace. I look over, and it’s tough to tell in the moonlight, but his jaw is still tight.
“You’re in pain,” I say. “How long has it been bothering you?”
“I’m all right, Miss Tessa.”
I don’t believe him. He didn’t even eat all of the food we bought. “Can I take the reins?”
He makes a face, then shakes his head. “A lot more can go wrong with horses than a rowboat. We don’t have much farther.”
I flatten my lips into a line, but I nod. I think of the way he was helping to load the wagon. “I wish you’d said something.”
“I wasn’t going to make you stay at his palace.”
I frown and look back at the road, feeling guilty. I announced that this morning, how I didn’t want to risk staying near Rian. “I would have,” I say quietly. “You’ve been risking yourself to guard me. I might not know how to fight, but I’ll do what I can to protect you, too.”
As soon as I say it, the words seem silly. He doesn’t need my protection. But he glances at me in the darkness, and he gives me a nod. “Thank you, Miss Tessa.”
We trot on in the moonlight, and I recognize the woods when we get back to the path where we met Olive and Ellmo. I’ve been listening to Rocco’s breathing for the last twenty minutes, and I’m trying to determine whether it sounds strained, when a smattering of rocks hits the side of the wagon, and a light bit of laughter rings through the trees.
Rocco draws back the reins and sighs as the horses come to a stop. “I don’t have the patience for it now, boy. I might just shoot you this time.”
I expect Ellmo to fire back with a saucy comment or scamper away through the trees, but he leaps up onto the wagon like he’s been invited. “Mama and I have been watching for you. I ran ahead.” His eyes are wide in the moonlight. “Look at all this stuff.” He begins poking through the wagon, and the hens go wild with clucking.
Rocco twitches the reins, and the horses walk on. “I’m glad you’re here,” he says. “We need a five-year-old to help unload.”
“I’m seven!”
“Is your mother nearby?” I ask him, just as I hear Olive call his name from the shadows ahead. Rocco draws the wagon to a stop again when we reach her.
She has a small lantern, and she holds it up toward the wagon. She whistles low between her teeth at all of our wares. “I see our king sought to curry your favor, Tessa Cade.”
I hear the tone in her voice when she says king and wonder if she means that as an insult. “No,” I say. “He refused everything I asked for.”
Her eyes widen. “Exactly what did you ask for?”
“Passage home.”
She meets my gaze and holds it. “I see.”
“Since he refused,” I say, “I asked for supplies to set up an apothecary here. I won’t sit around waiting for him to grant my wishes.”
She blinks in surprise, much like Henry in the village. “You’re going to set up an apothecary . . . here?”
“Yes. I heard there were people who might be sick or injured. Now we have a wagon, so I’ll help if I can. I used to make rounds in Kandala, so I may as well do the same.”
“The people might not trust your medicines,” she says. “There’s still a lot of worry after the way Kandala betrayed Ostriary.”
“I know,” I say. “But I can try.”
She studies me again, and I can’t make out much of her expression in the shadows beyond the lantern. Behind me, Ellmo is still digging through the supplies. “Mama, they have a jar of real honey. Can we take it?”
Rocco clears his throat. “Miss Olive, if you would be so kind as to take this little demon off our hands, I would be most appreciative. Either that, or come help. The day isn’t growing any shorter.”
Olive shakes herself. “Oh. Of course.” To my surprise, she takes hold of the wagon railing, then pulls herself up to sit right beside him.
Both Rocco and I stare at her.
“I’m coming to help,” she says.
Rocco shrugs and cracks the whip.
“And my child is not a demon,” Olive adds, glaring at him.
From behind us, Ellmo growls like a wildcat. “I can be a demon.”
“Trust me, I know,” says Rocco.
After we reach the house, we busy ourselves with unloading the wagon, and there isn’t time for more banter. I watch Rocco carefully, and although he’s not moving as stiffly as I expected, I’ve still seen him wince a few times. When he’s untethering one of the horses from the wagon, I peer at him in the darkness while Olive and Ellmo are carrying things into the house.
“Truly,” I say to him quietly. “You should rest tomorrow. A goat can wait.”
“We’ll see.”
I frown, but he smiles. “I need to move, Miss Tessa.”
I put a hand on his arm. “I really meant what I said. I know you’re guarding me, but we have to help each other.”
He loses the smile, then nods. “I know.”
“And if we get the chance to go before King Harristan again, I will tell him that you did everything possible to protect Prince Corrick. To protect all of Kandala. If he tried to punish you for failing in your duties . . .” I set my jaw. “I wouldn’t let him.”
Again, it feels silly to say it, because what can I do against the king? But Rocco’s eyes soften. “Thank you, Miss Tessa. But I wouldn’t be trying to get back so desperately if I were worried.” The back door to the house creaks as Olive and Ellmo come out. Rocco looks back at me and clasps me fondly on the shoulder. “I know what people in Kandala think of the king, but after what I’ve heard in some of those meetings, it’s the consuls who aren’t to be trusted. I’ve been in King Harristan’s personal guard for four years, and if I’m offered the chance, I’ll give him forty more. He’ll grieve the loss of his brother. He’ll retaliate against Ostriary. But I don’t believe he’ll punish me. There’s a reason we closed ranks when the revolution started. Like every other man in his personal guard, I trust the king.”
His eyes are so dark in the shadows. I think of our conversation in the woods, how our thoughts can change as we learn new information. A few short months ago, I hated the king and his brother. I was wondering if I had the mettle to kill them both.
And now I’m on the other side, where a few short weeks ago, King Harristan slipped into my chambers and confided that he was worried about receiving the right dosage of medicine from the palace physicians while I was gone.
For the first time since we’ve arrived, a twinge of worry tugs at my heart. He’s always the center of attention, always surrounded by guards, and always so lonely.
There are very few people I trust, he said to me. Three of you are climbing aboard a ship tonight.
My heart twists again. I hope he’s all right.
“I trust him, too,” I say softly.
“Good.” Rocco nods. “Let’s hope we make it back to Kandala to tell him.”
