My dear brother. I keep thinking of the last words you said to me when you left Kandala.
“Be here when I get back.”
Cory, please forgive me. I’m so sorry I won’t be.
Harristan’s letter is thirty-five pages long, but it takes me forever to read beyond the first few lines. I’ve been trying not to cry, but by the third page, he’s said so many things that I’m glad Tessa is already asleep in bed, and I’m alone. By the time I get to the end, I read the entire thing again.
Quint wrote me a letter, too, but his is short.
My dearest friend, you will make a fine king. I hope you understand why I couldn’t leave him alone during his finest hour.
I read it a dozen times, wishing for more.
My brother is dead. My best friend is dead.
I haven’t quite convinced myself that any of this is real, that Harristan orchestrated it to protect me and the people, that the villains died in the same terrible explosion that took out most of the palace. I have no one to punish, no vengeance to chase, no way to ease this pain.
I simply have a kingdom that’s practically in shambles.
Harristan’s letter has numerous passages that make me long for all the things we never got to say in person, but most of what he wrote is practical: outlining everything that happened, everything I need to do, and everything he hopes for—both for me and for Kandala. Despite his efforts, it’s going to take months to straighten out the mess left behind. I’ve only spent a day trying to unwind who I can trust and who might still be secretly working against me, and I’m already exhausted. But now it’s after midnight, and the manor is finally quiet. Tessa fell asleep two hours ago, but I feel like I’ll never sleep again, so I’m staring into the hearth in the sitting room, alone.
I’d give anything for Quint right now. I’d give anything for . . . anyone.
I have a handful of consuls left, so those will need to be replaced. I don’t even know if I can trust any of them—including Jonas. He’s offered me anything I could need, but I haven’t been gone from Kandala for so long. I know gifts and promises usually come with conditions and favors that are expected later.
I can’t rule from here either. Not for long. I’ve heard that most of the palace was destroyed, so that will need to be rebuilt, which will take funding. Consul Beeching’s men reported that looters were discovered trying to pick through the rubble, so his guards have been posted along the site to prevent thieving. Aside from Thorin, Saeth, and Rocco, I don’t know who among the palace guards can be trusted, so those will need to be reevaluated and rehired. I’ve heard statements from both Thorin and Saeth, and it’s given me the barest glimpse of everything my brother went through in my absence. I was barely able to hold it together when they told me about his nights as the Fox, and how he was injured by the night patrol.
That wasn’t in his letter, but he had to have started that before I’d left. I wish I’d known.
Then again, perhaps I deserve it, for all the years he never knew of my nights as the outlaw Weston Lark.
Emotion swells in my chest again.
A hand knocks softly on my door, and I pull out my pocket watch. It’s well after midnight.
I immediately think of Quint, and my heart leaps for the briefest moment.
But of course it can’t be Quint. He’s dead.
I press the heel of my hand into my eyes and rise to answer the door, because I don’t want to call for entry and risk waking Tessa in the next room. I know one of my brother’s guards—well, one of my guards—is on the other side, and I really can’t imagine who they’d allow to knock at this hour.
When I draw the door open, I’m both surprised and not at all to find Lochlan.
There are a thousand things I could say to send him away. It’s late. You should be sleeping. You don’t need to be here. What are you doing?
But his eyes are dark and intent on mine, and somehow I know he can feel the weight that’s threatening to crush the air out of my lungs. Every single word stops in my throat.
Saeth is the guard standing along the wall behind him. My brother said quite a bit about Saeth and Thorin and their loyalty in his letter. I’m not sure how to address any of it yet. The guard’s voice is low and somber when he says, “Master Cresswell said you would be expecting him, Your Majesty.”
My body nearly flinches at the title. Every time I hear it, I expect to see Harristan—and I have to remind myself that I never will again.
I swallow and glance at Lochlan. Now my voice doesn’t want to work.
His eyes hold mine for a moment, and then he says, “Yeah. He is.” He puts a hand on my shoulder and gives me a not-quite-gentle shove toward the chairs in front of the hearth, then pushes past me. “I know what you need. Come on. Sit.”
In the hallway, Saeth raises his eyebrows at me, just a bit, in question. The way they’d look to my brother.
That thought is almost enough to bring tears to my eyes again, but I don’t want to cry in front of Harristan’s guards, and I definitely don’t want to do it in front of Lochlan.
“He’s fine,” I say, and my voice is a rasp. Saeth nods, and I let the door fall closed.
Then I just stare at it. It’s late and I’m tired and my brother is dead.
Behind me, something thumps against the table. I turn to find Lochlan setting two glasses on the sideboard. He uncorks a bottle of amber liquid.
“I’m surprised you’re still here,” I say, and I mean it. The day has been full of tense discussions and interrogations and so many demands and gatherings that my head wants to spin. It was clear that Lochlan was overwhelmed in the first hour, and I told a servant to find him quarters and a hot meal at the first opportunity. I later sent word that he was under no obligation to stay.
“Karri didn’t want to leave Tessa yet.” He glances at the closed door to the bedroom. “Is she sleeping?”
“Yes.”
“Karri, too. But I knew you’d be awake.”
“Still breathing,” I say roughly.
“Still drinking, too.” He pours an inch into each glass. “This time, you can have all you want.”
I don’t move away from the door. “I really can’t.”
He lifts one of the glasses. “Come on, Cory.”
Cory.The name slams into me so hard that I feel the impact. It’s a fist to the gut, an arrow to the chest. I can’t breathe. My heart feels like it must have stopped. My knees seem to be buckling.
Lochlan moves forward to catch me, and before I can stop myself, my breath is hitching against his shoulder.
“I know,” he says, and his voice is so very quiet.
“I should have been here,” I say, the words a desperate gasp.
“I know.”
“I could have helped him.”
“I know.”
“I tried to get back as quickly as I could.”
“And you did.”
My breathing shudders again, but he doesn’t let go. I don’t know how long we stand there like that, but when I finally straighten and scrape the tears off my face, I take what feels like my first deep breath in hours. I’m wrung out and exhausted, but somehow the knots of tension and pain around my heart have loosened.
I drop into the chair in front of the hearth. It’s barely more than embers now, and I shiver. I didn’t even cry like that on Tessa, and despite everything we’ve been through, I can’t quite believe I did it to Lochlan.
A hand appears in front of me, holding a glass of the liquor he poured earlier. “Drink.”
I don’t take it. “It’s not appropriate. Harristan never would have—”
“You’re not Harristan. Drink.”
“I’m the king now, Lochlan.” I say this flatly, without any emotion. “You can’t order me to—”
“I can hold you down and force you, and we both know it. I just don’t want to tangle with the man out there. Now take it.”
I take it. I meant what I said, though. Harristan was never one for drinking much at all. He never wanted to be seen as out of control, as under the influence, as someone who could be swayed by something as simple as a splash of liquor.
You’re not Harristan.
I drain the entire glass. Lochlan does the same.
He fetches the bottle and pours more immediately. Then he lifts his glass. “To brothers.”
I lift mine and tap it against his, and the ring of the crystal is like a bell in the quiet of the room. “To brothers.”
When he drains this one, I don’t.
It’s tempting. I already feel the burn from the first, and I’m longing for any kind of release from the ache in my soul. A part of me wants to tip back the whole bottle, to find oblivion at the bottom.
But I’m remembering the countless times I tried to pour more for my brother, and the equal number of times he left his glass sitting practically full.
I never wholly understood why, but now I do. I always felt the weight of responsibility as King’s Justice, but this . . . this is suddenly altogether different.
I take a sip to complete Lochlan’s toast, but then I set the glass down and look into the glowing hearth.
Lochlan watches this, then sets down his empty glass. He’s quiet for quite some time.
“Who’s on your side here?” he eventually says.
I turn my head and look at him. “What?”
He lifts a hand and gestures around the room, indicating the manor. “Everyone has been all over you all day. Who’s on your side?” He pauses, and when I don’t say anything, he adds, “Is there anyone?”
“Tessa, obviously.” I lift a shoulder in half a shrug. “I trust Rocco, but I know he’s distracted by Olive—and it’s likely she’ll want to return to Ostriary to report on what’s happened. He might want to go with her. Harristan put his faith in Thorin and Saeth, so I’ll do the same—but that doesn’t mean I have that same loyalty.”
He’s looking at me as if he’s waiting for more.
But there isn’t.
“That’s it?” he says.
I nod. “Consul Beeching seems earnest, but we’ll see if his promises to support my reign pan out. Roydan Pelham is older, so I have his support, but his sector is smaller and he doesn’t have a lot of political sway. Arella Cherry and I would often argue over my methods as King’s Justice. She’s already begun to make demands and may not completely support me as king. But the consuls might not even matter at this point. There’s been too much corruption. The people may not support me as king.”
He frowns. “I heard them cheering.”
“You heard them cheering because I was alive. The laws of succession were not at risk. There would be no war while consuls fought over the throne. Wait until it sinks in that Cruel Corrick is now King Corrick. It likely already has.”
Lochlan studies me.
I study him right back. “I promise you, there are people in Kandala right this instant—possibly in this very manor—having fireside discussions just like this one, wondering who will gain my favor, and who is most at risk now that I’m in power.” I sit back in my chair, then lift a hand, indicating the manor the way he just did. “And they’re plotting my death, just like you once plotted my brother’s.”
Lochlan goes very still. After a moment, he draws a long breath, then runs a hand across his jaw. “All right. You’ve got one more.”
“You’re plotting against me?” It would almost be funny if it weren’t all so serious. “Should I call for Saeth, or are you just going to pull my hair again?”
“No, you idiot. I’m on your side.” He pauses. “I can stay. If you need me to.”
My heart pounds at the offer, and I feel the need to glance away. I don’t want to acknowledge how very much I want to accept. “Unfortunately, ruling a kingdom isn’t like running the streets of Silvesse, Lochlan. Life at court is . . . complicated.”
“You taught me to read while figuring out a way to keep us alive, then ended their war and took out Rian’s biggest rival. I think ruling Kandala might be easier.” He grimaces. “But you’re going to have to help me, because I don’t know who all these people are. I’m sure I’m going to use the wrong fork at dinner or start a war because I have no idea what brocade is.”
“Your fabric knowledge is truly the least of my worries.”
“That’s a fabric?”
I smile in spite of myself, but then it flickers and fades. I keep thinking of the people waiting to watch me fail. Those knots around my heart feel like they’ve begun to tighten already. Acknowledging want and need feel too close to all the things we always used to hide. Harristan’s letter warns me against it, but I’ve spent too many years protecting myself against any vulnerability, and I’ve already been too vulnerable tonight. Keeping a former rebel leader by my side could have far-reaching ramifications. I already saw Consul Beeching’s look when I told him that Lochlan could follow us to the manor.
I run a finger around the edge of my glass. “This is a truly generous offer, but I can manage.”
“I know you can.” His eyes hold mine.
My heart pounds a little harder, but I say nothing.
He shrugs a little. “You know—it would make Karri feel better, to stay here for Tessa. So she wouldn’t be alone. Especially if Olive leaves.”
“For Tessa, then,” I say. “And Karri.”
He puts out a hand. “I suppose we’ll have to put up with each other a little longer. For their sake.”
I clasp it, gripping tight. “You’re learning already.”
The nights are interminable, but the days pass quickly. For all the people I had to talk to as King’s Justice, there are somehow more who demand my attention as king. They all want something from me, and it’s often far more than they’re offering in return. I’m desperate to leave Artis and return to the Royal Sector, but dozens of prosperous families have already offered to host us—and I know that throwing favor to one will cause a tizzy among the others. More than once, I stare at the ceiling of my bedroom after yet another exhausting day and say to Tessa, “I’m so grateful to Harristan for allowing me to start from scratch.”
Lochlan has joined me for many of my meetings. Everyone is shocked at his presence, but no one questions me. When they question him, I’m ready to speak in his defense, but I don’t need to. He’s always quick to defend himself. As days pass, I’m surprised to discover that his unsophisticated manner is rather useful—or maybe I’ve just grown accustomed to it. But he’ll ask questions that no one else would dare to voice, or say things no one else would dare to utter. I still want to hire him a governess with a switch, but I also don’t mind when Baron Pepperleaf comes to pay his respects, and Lochlan tells him he should start packing for the Hold.
Tessa herself is a balm, a constant source of comfort. She wraps herself around me at night and allows me to whisper my fears. During the day, she’s by my side as well, always fearless, always unhesitating in front of the people, always kind.
In my letter from Harristan, I have strict instructions for the week after my return, so exactly seven days after my arrival, I call for a carriage at dawn, and Tessa and I climb inside. I have two dozen guards now, all of whom were among the palace guard before the palace was destroyed, but I know what happened to my brother and I’m still not entirely sold on their loyalty. It’s nowhere near enough, but I haven’t yet put anyone in charge of hiring more. Today, at least, we have Thorin.
Tessa is watching the world pass by outside the window. “Harristan didn’t say why we have to do this?” she says.
“No,” I tell her. “Just that he made a promise, and he’d like for me to fulfill it.”
We don’t go far, just down near the docks, to where some narrow townhouses have been built along the water. It’s not far from the line of tents that still stand, even though the attack on the people in the Wilds is long since over and it would be safe for them to return to their homes. I understand that the destruction was purposeful, and a lot of them don’t have homes to return to.
When we stop, the guards take a position around the carriage, because we’ve already generated a fair amount of gawking.
Thorin opens the door to the carriage and stands at attention. “I’ll knock for you, Your Majesty.”
“No need,” I say. “I’ll do it.” Because that was in my brother’s letter, too.
“He would have come to the manor,” Thorin says. “I could have sent a summons.”
“No,” I say. “My instructions were very clear.”
When I knock, I’m very aware of the small crowd that gathers on the street. I haven’t spent much time outside the consul’s manor yet, and I hate how the feeling of freedom on the streets in Ostriary feels like vulnerability here. Especially when people begin to whisper.
But then the door swings open, and I’m facing Adam Saeth, in a loose tunic and trousers, with a little girl clinging to his neck. She’s clutching a torn doll that’s a bit filthy, but clearly well loved.
“Your Majesty,” Saeth says in surprise. He glances at Tessa and the guards and carriage, and concern flickers through his expression. “What—why—?” He frowns and whispers something to the little girl, then sets her on her feet. “How may I serve?”
“I am here to call on Mistress Saeth, if she is receiving visitors,” I say. “I have strict instructions from my brother to visit her, in her home, every week.”
He stares at me.
“He was quite firm on this point,” I add.
Saeth doesn’t move.
After a moment, the little girl tugs at his tunic and whispers, “Da? Should I fetch Mama?”
“Ah . . . yes,” he says.
But before the little girl can go anywhere, a voice calls out from behind him. “Adam? Adam, is it the young man from the bakery again? Tell him I simply do not need any more raisin bread—”
“Leah,” says Saeth, a touch too sharply, and then his wife appears.
She’s holding a baby against her shoulder, and she takes one look at me and goes as wide-eyed as her husband.
“Oh,” she gasps.
“Our king,” says Saeth, with gentle emphasis, “was told by his late brother to visit you every week.”
Now it’s her turn to stare at me. I’m uncomfortably aware of how many people have gathered in the street now.
“He didn’t say why,” I add solemnly—though, seeing their family, I believe I’m beginning to understand some of it. “But if my brother made a promise, I’ll keep it.”
Mistress Saeth takes a step forward, and to my surprise, her eyes glisten, just a bit. Her voice is very soft when she speaks. “Your brother was a very good man, facing a horrible time. He had to make terrible choices. I am so sorry he’s gone.”
Her emotion catches me before I’m ready, and my chest tightens dangerously. I could listen to people sob at my feet in the Hold and not crack, but when people talk about Harristan, I can barely keep it together.
Her eyes hold mine, and whatever she sees there makes a solitary tear spill down her cheek. She reaches toward my face, before catching herself. “I’m sorry.” She casts a worried glance at her husband. “I’m sure I’m not allowed to touch you.”
I’m so aware of the people, of the ache in my heart. Harristan would never let anyone touch him. I wouldn’t either, honestly. There was a reason I didn’t mind when people called me Cruel Corrick, that I allowed the illusion of the heartless executioner to form. Displaying vulnerability would be reckless. In moments like this, I wish I could go back to my nights of donning a mask as Weston Lark.
But Tessa reaches out and squeezes my hand, and I remember something she said to me months ago, during one of our countless talks about how I wanted to make things better for Kandala.
Corrick, you hid everything that you are.
No more hiding.
I give Mistress Saeth a nod. “You can touch me,” I say.
I don’t know if I expect her to put a hand on my shoulder or against my face, but she doesn’t do either. She thrusts the squealing baby at her husband, then wraps her arms around me in a hug.
It’s so unexpected, but the warmth and empathy in the motion is so real. To my surprise, it doesn’t summon more emotion, but it helps settle something inside me. It lets me breathe, chasing back my tears instead of summoning more.
“I must have looked truly miserable,” I say against her shoulder.
She gives a little laugh, then kisses me on the cheek before letting go.
Like the moment it happened on Silvesse, I’m struck by the motion, and I freeze.
Mistress Saeth blushes a bit. “Forgive me. I forgot myself, Your Majesty.”
I shake my head. “I appreciate your compassion. And I’m very glad my brother sent me.”
Her blush deepens. “You . . . you don’t need to come every week.”
“If he promised, I will.”
“No, I’m certain you’re very busy.” She glances at her husband, who’s still staring at us, and is quite ignoring the baby who’s chewing on the lacing of his shirt. “And I really don’t think Adam’s heart could take it.”
Saeth scowls. “Leah.”
The little girl slips forward and holds up her arms to me, as if she wants a hug now, too. Saeth sighs and reaches for her. “Ruby—”
But I catch the little girl under the arms and pick her up, and she wraps around my neck only a little too tightly. There are gasps among the gathered crowd, and I’m not surprised. I don’t think I was ever hugged by a child as Prince Corrick.
Tessa smiles. “You’re going to end up getting hugs all over Kandala.”
Saeth sighs again. “And a knife in the ribs, if this keeps up. Your Majesty—”
“Really, Captain,” I say to him. “I rather doubt I’m in any danger from your daughter.”
“No, but I—” Then he stops short at what I said. His wife gasps. Even Thorin snaps his head around. But he smiles.
I look at Mistress Saeth. “Would your husband’s heart be able to take a promotion?”
She breathes in. Glances at her husband, and then back at me. “Yes. Yes, it would.”
I turn back to Saeth. “It would likely be terrible in the beginning. There is much work to be done, still. But the hours would be better.”
“It would take me out of your personal guard,” he says.
“I know,” I say. “But if I am to rebuild, I need to do it with people I can trust. The position is yours if you want it.”
“Yes. I do. Thank you.”
I glance at the few guards who’ve traveled with me. “Salute your new captain, gentlemen.” When they do, Thorin reaches out to clap Saeth on the shoulder.
I turn my head to look at the little girl. “I’m afraid I need my neck back now.”
She giggles, and a little more of the tension around my heart eases. When I set her down, I realize that more of a crowd has grown, and I look beyond them to take in all the tents and structures that have been built to hold the people who fled here from the Wilds.
Thorin has drawn open the door to the carriage. “Back to the consul’s manor, Your Majesty?”
I look at the dark interior, considering everything that’s waiting for me. Again, I wish for moonlit paths and the mask so I could be an outlaw instead of a king who has to lock himself away for endless meetings and arguments and interminable loneliness.
But then I realize I don’t need to wish for anything at all.
I reach out and take Tessa’s hand. “No,” I say to Thorin. I look down at Tessa, then brush a kiss along her knuckles. “It’s a beautiful morning,” I say to her. “Would you care to go for a walk?”
