As the weeks pass and the air turns cooler, Corrick and I walk among the people every day. We’ve visited every sector, spending days on the road, and at every opportunity, we leave the confines of stuffy meeting rooms, and instead choose to talk to anyone, of any status. Often we’re joined by Lochlan and Karri, or Olive and Ellmo—who seem in no hurry to return to Ostriary. There are still rumors that King Harristan was conspiring with Consul Sallister to poison the people, but word has spread that the king and Palace Master sacrificed themselves to stop the poisonings and save all of Kandala, so as time passes, Harristan is viewed as a hero in most people’s eyes, not a traitor.
People are less certain of Corrick, because of his reputation as King’s Justice. At first, people look at our guards and keep a safe distance—but it doesn’t take long for rumor to spread that their new king is at ease among the people.
A more potent rumor is that their new king was once an outlaw who secretly helped the people because he was powerless to stop the corruption in the palace. This one seems to stick and grow. They love the mystery of it. He’s confronted with it all the time.
“Is it true, Your Majesty?” someone will whisper. “Were you an outlaw?”
Sometimes he’ll pretend not to hear, and he’ll just give them a wink. Or he’ll pull me close and say, “No more an outlaw than my beloved Tessa.” When the inquiries have an edge to them, Lochlan will often scoff, “Why would a spoiled prince be an outlaw?”
But it’s Olive who says one day while we’re walking through the market in Steel City, “The Outlaw King! Your Majesty, I had no idea I was negotiating with a secret rebel.” She gives him a bump with her shoulder.
But the Outlaw King sticks somehow, and we begin to hear it often. In the streets, in quiet murmurs, in messages left at the gates of the consul’s manor. At first, the remaining consuls seem a bit outraged, telling Corrick that it’s disrespectful and that it could lead to the elites turning against him.
“They already turned against me,” he says hotly. “If the people think I’m one of them, I welcome it. The elites could do with a little humility.”
And that shuts them up.
He’s as brave and steadfast as I’ve ever seen him during the day, and I’m frequently reminded of that moment on the ship when I lay across his chest and thought of the way he’d changed, becoming more determined. More resolved. I see it in his manner with the remaining consuls, in his demeanor with the guards, even in his unlikely friendship with Lochlan.
It’s at night that he shares his grief, in our quiet moments together where he doesn’t have to be an outlaw or a king. He can simply be Corrick.
“I sometimes feel like I see them in the crowds,” he murmurs late one night, when we’re curled together and a late autumn draft has started to slip through the shutters. “Isn’t that ridiculous?”
“No,” I say. “I thought I saw my parents for months.”
He kisses me on the temple. “I almost called out the other day. It was just a man and his son pushing a food cart. I would’ve made a fool of myself.”
I swallow the lump in my throat, because I hear the need pulsing under his voice. He misses his brother so much. He misses his best friend. “You wouldn’t have.”
He faces challenges, too. Assassination attempts are frequent. Some are amateurish and easily stopped. But some are more nefarious, and people have breached the manor’s defenses. I know Corrick is eager to return to the palace, which is more defensible. The wealthy patrons from every sector who come to call are almost worse. Everyone wants something from him. Everyone wants to pledge their “loyalty,” and for the first time, I find myself turning a bit cynical. It hasn’t escaped my notice that anyone with a daughter of marrying age brings her along to meet the new king, so she can pay her respects. Some of them are so obvious I half expect them to climb right into his lap.
What’s amusing is that Corrick pays them so little attention that I don’t think he’s even aware of it, until the night we’re preparing for bed and he says, “If Zora Chandliss loosened her corset any further, I’m not sure her dress would have stayed on at the dinner table.”
That makes me smile. “Oh, you noticed this one, did you?”
He frowns. “I notice all of them. I was hoping you didn’t.”
“I notice all of them, too,” I say, pulling at the laces of my own corset. The maid seems to have knotted it. “I know what they’re doing.”
He catches my waist, forcing me still. “Are they upsetting you?”
His eyes are so earnest, so intent. I have the sense that I could say yes, and he’d order every single young woman to be stopped at the gate. I shake my head.
“I know who you are,” I say softly, and I press a hand to his cheek, letting my thumb drift along his lip. He leans into my hand and takes a breath.
“I could make them all go away,” he says, and his hands are warm and heavy against my waist.
“Oh, Corrick, you don’t have to order the guards to tell them to go away. Honestly. They’re just doing what their families tell them to—”
“I meant I could ask you to marry me.”
My hand freezes against his cheek.
“It would be different now,” he says in a bit of a rush. “There will be demands, expectations, risks. It’s not like when I was simply Prince Corrick—”
“Oh yes, when you were simply Prince Corrick. Truly the simplest time of my life.”
A smile finds his face, but his eyes are still serious. “You’ve seen a bit of it, these past few weeks. As my companion, you can be overlooked. As my betrothed, you could not. There will be pressures, as well. There are always worries when there is not a clear heir. My life is always at risk now, and yours would be, too. Even more than it is already.” He pauses. “To say nothing of future children. You know what was done to Harristan.”
He’s talking about the poison, the way consuls tried to manipulate his parents—though his parents certainly weren’t innocent either. A little spike of fear pierces my heart, and I swallow.
“This is quite the proposal,” I say roughly.
“It’s not a proposal yet,” he says quietly. “I didn’t want you to feel obligated to say yes. I wanted to make sure you knew you could say no. That no part of me expected you to uphold these—”
“I love you,” I say. “Of course I’m going to say yes.”
His eyes are still troubled. “You don’t need to say yes. We could remain together without—”
“Corrick.” I step into him and press a soft kiss to his lips. “There could be a dozen crossbows pointed at me, and I’m not going to say no.”
“Let’s try to avoid that part, shall we?” He kisses me back, pulling me tightly against him. In moments like this, I can forget everything else for a breath of time, and we can just be Corrick and Tessa, together against the night, the way we always were.
But then he draws back, and I blink in the firelight of our manor bedroom, and he’s the king trying to hold a country together, talking about marriage and the pressure to create an heir and poisoned children.
I’m just Tessa, a girl who fell in love with him.
All of a sudden, I’m reminded of the day I asked if Harristan was inviting someone to dinner. The way Corrick said, Haven’t you noticed? My brother never invites a companion.
“You don’t have to ask me to marry you,” I say immediately. “You don’t have to feel obligated. You don’t even have to keep me here. Corrick, if this is a mistake, if you should be marrying someone who will give you more political leverage, if I’m putting you in greater danger—”
“Tessa, stop.”
“I’m serious.” I draw back, realizing I’ve been looking at all those other girls all wrong. “I’m not a political ally to you.”
“Tessa, you helped me negotiate a peaceable treaty with Ostriary. You helped me see the ways I could be a better King’s Justice. You’ve stood by my side throughout countless attacks. When you were trapped on Ostriary, you took action to help the people. Even when you believed in Rian, it was his conviction that inspired you, and seeing that inspired me. Truly, how could you be a better political ally?”
I flush. “Well, when you put it that way . . .”
He smiles. “There’s no obligation. There’s no better choice.”
I stare up at him. “Then my answer will be yes,” I whisper, and he swallows. “But don’t do it because of the girls,” I add quickly, “or . . . or because of the consuls or because you’re under pressure or because of anything that worries you. Do it because you want to. Do it whenever you’re ready.”
Emotion flickers in his eyes, just for a moment before he blinks it away.
“And when you have a ring,” I say lightly, trying to take some of the intensity out of the moment. “Not when you’re warning me about threats against the Crown.”
He presses a hand to my cheek. “Yes, my love.”
That catches my heart and gives it a squeeze. I blush and turn away, tugging at the lacing of my corset again. “Now if you don’t mind, the maid tied these knots something fierce—”
He catches my hand and turns me back around. Without hesitation, he drops to one knee.
There’s a ring in his hand, and a determined look in his eye.
“Tessa Cade,” he says, “I’m ready now.”
Corrick is right. Once we’re engaged, it’s worse. Suddenly people are asking me for favors, sending me requests, attempting to use me to gain his favor. One morning Corrick and Lochlan head to Steel City to meet with three barons who are volleying for who should be named consul, and I’ve gratefully remained behind with Karri and Olive because I simply can’t take the glorified bickering much longer. We’re eating lunch in my sitting room when a guard knocks to announce that I have a visitor.
When the man calls out, “Laurel Pepperleaf, Miss Cade,” I choke on my food.
“Tessa!” Karri hisses.
I gulp down half a cup of tea. “I’m fine,” I sputter. “I just—her father was in league with Allisander. Corrick said she was interested in my medicine because she was trying to make sure I didn’t find out about the poison. I have no idea why she could be here.”
Olive sits back in her chair. “Well, I’m not leaving.”
I give her a look and tell the guard to send the woman in.
The last time I saw her, Laurel Pepperleaf was resplendent in a silk gown, her blond hair gleaming, the picture of perfect wealth and privilege. She hasn’t lost the air of sophistication and wealth, but her eyes are shadowed, her hair pinned back, her clothing more demure.
When she enters the room, I don’t say a word. I don’t even stand.
Cynicism has set in, for sure.
She hesitates, then offers me a curtsy. “Thank you for agreeing to see me,” she says. “I wanted to congratulate you on your engagement.”
I don’t thank her, and I don’t beat around the bush. “When we met,” I say, “you seemed interested in my medicine. I was eager to talk to you, especially when you were so interested in going to Ostriary. I was disappointed to learn you were simply trying to protect your father’s interests in poisoning the people of Kandala.”
She jerks like I’ve hit her. “No! That’s not what I was doing. I was genuinely interested in your medicine.” She swallows. “And I really did want to go to Ostriary.”
“To make sure we didn’t learn the truth?”
“No. To find more Moonflower.”
I study her. “I find it hard to believe that your father was working in league with Allisander Sallister and you were attempting to work against him.”
“My father is in the Hold. But I didn’t know what they were doing. My family has been friends with the Sallisters for generations. My grandfather was a consul! Until the truth was revealed about Ostriary, I never had any idea they were a part of . . . all this.”
I study her, remembering the maps in Rian’s palace, the way one of the sectors was marked with Pepperleaf instead of Sallister.
In my silence, she takes a step closer to me. “I really did want to know about your medicine.” Her voice almost cracks. “I begged him to come to court that night because I wanted to meet you.”
Olive and Karri exchange a glance across the table, then look at me.
“I don’t believe you,” I say. “And I don’t know what you could possibly want from me now. I can’t pardon your father. I wouldn’t even if I could.”
Her face crumples, and she presses her hands to her eyes—and that tells me all I need to know. She came to beg for a pardon. There’s a part of me that’s disappointed, that it’s something so simple, so easily rejected—and so inappropriate. She had to know I would refuse. What did she think, that I would let her father out of prison because she’s pretty and begged?
But I haven’t grown cynical enough to say something like that, and I can feel the true pain behind her tears.
“I’m sorry,” I say to her more quietly. “I know he’s your father. But you must be aware that deceiving the entire population of Kandala is not something worthy of a pardon.”
“I know.” She wipes at her face. “I don’t want a pardon. You’re right—he doesn’t deserve a pardon.” She stares at me, her eyes still glistening. “Haven’t you ever trusted someone, only to find out everything you thought you knew was a lie?”
My breath almost catches. Luckily, I’ve been getting a lot of practice in the last few weeks at being less reactive. “More than once,” I say. “If you don’t want a pardon, then why are you here?”
“When my father was committed to the Hold, his fortunes reverted to me,” she says. She shudders. “It feels like blood money.”
“It is,” I say.
“That’s why I don’t want it. I want you to take it, and I want you to put it to use wherever it will have the greatest effect. All of it.”
I go completely still. It’s Karri who gasps.
“Perhaps you could start rebuilding homes in the Wilds,” Olive says. “I’ve seen some of the destruction.”
“Or building schools!” says Karri. “Now that no one is sick, the people could learn—”
I lift a hand. “This still won’t grant your father a pardon,” I say to Laurel.
“He doesn’t deserve a pardon,” she says, and even though her eyes are still red, her voice is tight and firm.
We stare at each other, and I remember something Quint said to me, the night I met Laurel.
Don’t let them makeyou cynical, my dear.
I press a hand to my chest, feeling a pulse of loss. It’s a good reminder. A needed reminder. Because Laurel didn’t have to do this. She could have given the money to her friends. She could have spread it among her own sector. She could have thrown it into the sea.
And I realize that I’m as guilty of judging her as other people were of me, when I first came to the palace. Maybe with cause, but she doesn’t deserve it.
My voice gentles. “I’ll discuss your offer with Corrick,” I say. I hesitate, wondering if I should apologize for misjudging her, but maybe that should wait until after this is settled, and she’s proven to be trustworthy.
Maybe a little skepticism is good.
She offers me another curtsy. “Thank you, Miss Cade.”
Once she’s gone, I pick up my tea to take a sip, and I realize Karri and Olive are both staring at me. Now it’s Karri who has tears in her eyes.
“Don’t cry yet,” I say, then pick up a pastry. “We’ll see if she actually makes good on that offer.”
She reaches out to poke me in the arm. “That’s not why I’m crying!”
“Why are you crying?” I demand.
“Because of you!” she says.
“Why on earth are you crying because of me?”
Karri looks at Olive across the table, who also looks the tiniest bit misty-eyed. But Olive simply looks back at her. “I don’t think it’s fully sunk in yet.”
“What?” I demand.
“Tessa, my dear friend.” Karri reaches out and puts a hand over mine. “You are going to make a great queen.”
