Six months after we return from Ostriary, life in Kandala begins to go back to normal. Once each sector had a named consul and Corrick was residing in the palace, he had an official coronation, and people traveled from all over the sectors to watch him accept his crown. He turned twenty on the day before his coronation, and there’s a part of me that will always wonder if he deliberately waited, as if he didn’t want to be crowned king at nineteen the way his brother was forced to be.
Like Harristan, Corrick is always busy, always in demand, always talking to someone or reading something or sitting in a meeting. I still see his grief in private, though, and I remember my talks with Olive, the way my grief over him would sneak up and hit me when I least expected it. But he lost his brother and his best friend all at once, and I sometimes worry that he won’t recover.
Corrick was right about Erik Rocco, and the first time Olive leaves Kandala to return home, Erik is right by her side. I hug them both so tightly before they go, and I tell him he’d better be on the ship when she comes back. They’ve been back and forth from Ostriary three times now, always bringing lumber in exchange for steel—since we no longer need Moonflower—and I know Corrick is happy to see that she’s kept Mouse among her crew, because the man refuses to call him anything but Captain Lark.
The last time Olive visited, however, I couldn’t help noticing that she couldn’t keep a single meal in her stomach.
“Olive!” I whisper at her when we’re alone, glancing at her stomach deliberately.
“Hush!” she says. “It’s early yet.” She pauses. “But Erik and Mouse might be making a few runs without me in the spring, if that’s all right. But I’ll be back for your wedding next summer.”
“Of course it’s all right!”
She bites at her lip. “Rian has asked if he might visit while I’m away.”
Well, that socks the joy right out of me. Rian has always looked after his people, so I know he’s been taking care of Ostriary, but the last time he came here, he caused nothing but trouble. “Why?”
“I think he’d like to apologize,” she says. “To start anew.”
“Do you think he really means it?” I say.
Olive heaves a sigh. “I can never really tell with him.”
I think about everything Rian did wrong, the way he double-crossed so many people. I remember clinging to the ropes high above the ocean, wanting to trust in his ideals. It’s so tempting to tell her yes, to think that Rian might be able to come here and forge a new beginning.
But unlike Laurel Pepperleaf, I don’t know if I could ever trust him.
“Tell him I’ll send word when I’m ready for him to visit,” I say, and she smiles.
I hug her twice as tight before she leaves that time, and I give Erik all my apothecary notes on what to do to help with morning sickness. They beg me to visit at least once, and I keep promising to go, but I don’t think I will. The memories are too raw, too harsh, too painful.
Corrick has lost too much, and I’m staying right here by his side.
It’s winter now, just past the solstice. We haven’t had much snow yet in the Royal Sector, but the northern sectors are probably getting quite a bit in the mountains. This was always a challenging season in the Wilds, because there was never enough food, never enough firewood. But in the palace, I can curl up with Corrick in front of a roaring fire at night, and he’ll draw a blanket around us both. Karri and I can drink chocolate creams and play games and read books and never go cold.
I rather like winter here.
But one morning at breakfast with Corrick, a steward brings me a letter that’s been delivered to the palace. It only has my name in script on the front, and a simple seal on the back. I don’t recognize the handwriting, and at first, the letter makes me frown.
Miss Tessa Cade,
Thank you for allowing us to select a well-bred horse from our stable for your riding needs. We believe we have found the perfect creature, a small black palfrey that is guaranteed to be sure-footed over the cobblestone streets of the Royal Sector. You are invited to visit at your leisure to determine whether the animal is suitable.
Yours sincerely,
Sullivan Lark
I gasp out loud and drop the letter.
Corrick stares at me. “What? What is it?”
My mouth works, but no sound comes out. I can’t give him one single shred of false hope. I can’t.
I look back at the letter.
A small black palfrey.
That’s the exact kind of horse that Harristan and I shared on the night the rebels took the Royal Sector.
Sullivan.
This can’t be a coincidence. It can’t.
There’s an address at the bottom of the letter. It’s out in Moss-well, and several hours away in this weather.
“Tessa?”
I look back at Corrick. “We need to go see a man about a horse.”
