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Chapter no 2 – Corrick

Defy the Night

Iโ€™ve been listening to my brotherโ€™s breathing for hours.ย ๎ขereโ€™s a new sound each time he inhales, a faint stuttering in his lungs. In the Wilds, they call it the death rattle, because it means the end is near.

Here in his chambers, Iโ€™m unwilling to use the wordย deathย at all. Iโ€™m unwilling to even think it.

He doesnโ€™t have a fever.ย ๎ขereโ€™s no cause to worry. I canโ€™t even convince myself.

Sunlight blazes through the open window, and birds trill in the trees. Harristan shouldnโ€™t be sleeping this late, but I hate to wake him. To everyone outside the doors to his rooms, weโ€™ve been deliberating over paperwork all morning. Iโ€™ve called for food twice, enough to feed a dozen people, but most of it sits untouched. Flies have begun gathering on the sliced fruit, and a bee drones over the pastries.

Harristan coughs faintly, and his breathing eases. Maybe thatโ€™s all it was, a tickle in his throat. A tightness in my own chest loosens, and I run a hand across the back of my neck,ย nding it damp.

A faint breeze nudges at my papers with enough insistence that I tuck most of them under the weight of the lamp before they can scatter across the desk. One of us has to work. Iโ€™ve been making notes along the margins of a funding request from one of the eastern cities, looking for omissions and inaccuracies in their statement demonstrating the need for a new bridge. I expected to get through only a few pages before Harristan would wake up, but now Iโ€™ve gone through the entire report and it must be nearly midday.

I tug my pocket watch free and glance at the glittering diamonds embedded in its face. Itย isย midday. If he doesnโ€™t appear at the meeting of the sector consuls, there will be talk. I can only silence so much.

As if my thoughts wake him, my brother stirs, blinking in the sunlight. He frowns at me and sits up, shirtless, then runs a hand down his face. โ€œItโ€™s late. Why didnโ€™t you wake me?โ€

I listen to his voice carefully, but thereโ€™s no roughness to his tone, no sign of any di๏ฌƒculty breathing. Maybe I imagined it. โ€œI was just about to.โ€ I move to the sideboard and li๎‚ย the kettle. โ€œ๎ขe tea has gone cold.โ€ I pour a cup anyway and carry it to him, along with a thin corked tube of Moonย ower elixir thatโ€™s darker than usual.ย ๎ขe palace apothecary doubled his dosage last week when the coughing started again, so maybe the medicine is beginning to work.

Harristan uncorks the tube, drinks it, and makes a face. โ€œ๎ขere, there,โ€ I say without a lick of sympathy.

He grins.ย ๎ขatโ€™s something he only does when weโ€™re alone. Neither of us smiles outside these rooms very o๎‚en. โ€œWhat have you been doing all morning?โ€

โ€œI went through the request from Artis. Iโ€™ve dra๎‚ed a refusal for you to sign.โ€

His expression turns serious. โ€œA refusal?โ€

โ€œ๎ขeyโ€™re asking for twice what a new bridge would cost.ย ๎ขey hid it well, but someone got greedy.โ€

โ€œYou hardly need me anymore.โ€

๎ขe words are said lightly, but they hit me like an arrow. Kandala needs its king. I need my brother.

I lock away my worries and fold my arms. โ€œYou need to dressโ€”and shave. Iโ€™ll call for Geo๏ฌ€rey. Iโ€™ve said we were too busy for you to bother earlier. Quint has requested an audience with you twice, but he will need to wait until a๎‚er the evening meal, unlessโ€”โ€

โ€œCory.โ€ His voice is so๎‚, and I go still. He only ever calls me Cory when weโ€™re alone, one of the few reminders of childhood we have le๎‚. A nickname from when I was small and eager and trailing a๎‚er him everywhere he went. A name that was once spoken in gentle fondness by our mother or encouraging praise by our father, back when we believed our family was beloved by all. Back before anyone knew about the fever, or the Moonย ower, or the way our country would change in ways no one expected.

Back when everyone expected Harristan to have decades before heโ€™d take the throne, that heโ€™d rule withย rm kindness and thoughtful care for his

people, just as our parents did.

But four years ago, they were assassinated right in front of us. Shot through the throat in the throne room.ย ๎ขe arrows pinned them upright, their heads hanging cockeyed, their eyes wide and glassy as they choked on their own blood.ย ๎ขe image still haunts my dreams sometimes.

Harristan was nineteen. I wasย ๎‚een. He took an arrow in the shoulder when he dove to cover me.

It should have been the other way around.

I stare back into his blue eyes and look for any sign of sickness.ย ๎ขere is none. โ€œWhat?โ€

โ€œ๎ขe medicine is working again.โ€ His voice is quiet. โ€œYou donโ€™t need to play nursemaid.โ€

My smile feels a little wicked. โ€œCruel Cory playing nursemaid? Never.โ€ He rolls his eyes. โ€œNo one calls you Cruel Cory.โ€

โ€œNot to my face.โ€ No, to my face, Iโ€™m Your Highness, or Prince Corrick, or sometimes, when theyโ€™re being especially formal, the Kingโ€™s Justice.

Behind my back, Iโ€™m called worse. Much worse. So is Harristan.

We donโ€™t mind. Our parents were lovedโ€”and they were loving in return.

It led to betrayal and death.

Fear works better.

I move to the closet and pull out a laced shirt to toss at my brother. โ€œYou donโ€™t want a nursemaid?ย ๎ขen stop lazing around.ย ๎ขereโ€™s a country to run.โ€

 

 

๎ขe midday meal is already arranged on the sideboard when we enter. Roasted pheasant drips with honey and berries, nestled among a dense bed of greens and root vegetables. A few feathers have been artfully placed along the gilded edge of each platter, held in place by a glistening drop of crystalized honey.ย ๎ขough the stewards stand in silence along the wall, waiting to serve, the eight other Royal Consuls are engaged in lively conversation by the window. Iโ€™m the ninth, but I have no interest in lively conversation.

๎ขere used to be ten, but Consul Barnard led the plot to have my parents killed. He would have killed us, too. A๎‚er Harristan saved my life, I saw Barnard coming a๎‚er him with a dagger.

My brother was on top of me, his breath panicked and full of pain in my ear. I pulled that arrow out of Harristanโ€™s shoulder and stabbed it right into Barnardโ€™s neck.

I blink the memory away.ย ๎ขe consuls fall silent when we enter the room, each o๏ฌ€ering a short bow to my brother before moving to their chairs, though no one will sit until Harristan does, and no one will eat until we both have taken a bite.

๎ขe table is shaped like a rectangle at one end, narrowing to a point at the other, like the head of an arrow. Harristan eases into his chair at the head of the table, and I ease into mine, directly to his right.ย ๎ขe eight consuls ease into theirs, leaving one seat empty. Itโ€™s the one directly beside me, where Consul Barnard used to sit.ย ๎ขe Traderโ€™s Landing sector has no new consul, and Harristan is in no rush to appoint one. In whispers, the people o๎‚en call it Traitorโ€™s Landing, a๎‚er what Barnard did, but no one says it in front of us. No one wants to remind the king or his brother of what happened.

๎ขey respect my brotherโ€”as they should.

๎ขey fear me.

I donโ€™t mind. It spares me some tedious conversations.

Weโ€™ve known everyone in this room for our entire lives, but weโ€™ve long since doused any comfort born of familiarity. We saw what complacence and trust did to our parents, and we know what it could do to us. When Harristan was nineteen, blood still seeping through a bandage on his shoulder, he ran hisย rst meeting in this room. We were both numb with grief and shock, but I followed him to take a place standing by his shoulder. I remember thinking the consuls would be sympathetic and compassionate following the deaths of our parents. I remember thinking we would all grieve together.

But we were barely in the room for a full minute before Consulย ๎ขeadosia snidely commented that a child had no place attending a meeting of the Kingโ€™s Council. She was talking about meโ€”but her tone implied she was talking about Harristan, too.

โ€œ๎ขis child,โ€ said Harristan, โ€œis my brother, your prince.โ€ His voice was like thunder. Iโ€™d never heard my brotherโ€™s voice like that. It gave me the strength to stand when I so badly wanted to hide under my bed and pretend my world hadnโ€™t been turned upside down.

โ€œCorrick saved my life,โ€ said Harristan. โ€œ๎ขe life of your new king. He risked himself when none of you were willing to do the same, including you,

๎ขeadosia. I have named him Kingโ€™s Justice, and he will attend any meeting he so pleases.โ€

I went very still at those words.ย ๎ขe Kingโ€™s Justice was the highest-ranking adviser to the king.ย ๎ขe highest position beside Harristan himself. Our father once said that he was allowed to stay in the peopleโ€™s good graces because the Kingโ€™s Justice handled anything . . . unsavory.

Another consul at the time, a man named Talec, coughed to cover a laugh and said, โ€œCorrick will be the Kingโ€™s Justice? Atย ๎‚een?โ€

โ€œWas I unclear?โ€ said Harristan.

โ€œExactly what justice will he mete out? No dinner? No playtime for Kandalaโ€™s criminals?โ€

โ€œWe must be strong,โ€ saidย ๎ขeadosia, her voice full of scorn. โ€œYou dishonor your parents.ย ๎ขis is no time for Kandalaโ€™s rulers to be a source of mockery.โ€

You dishonor your parents.ย ๎ขe words turned my insides to ice. Our parents were killed because the council failed to uncover a traitor.

โ€œHe looks like heโ€™s ready toย cry,โ€ said Talec, โ€œand you expect to hold your throne with him at your side?โ€

Iย wasย ready to cry. But a๎‚er their statements, I was terriย ed to show one singleย icker of weakness. My parents were killed by someone they trusted, and we couldnโ€™t allow the same to happen to us.

โ€œNo dinner and no playtime,โ€ I said, and because Harristan sounded so unyielding, I forced my voice to be the same. I felt like I was playing a role for which Iโ€™d had no time to rehearse. โ€œYou will spend thirty days in the harvestย elds. You are to fast from midday until the next morning.โ€

๎ขere was absolute silence for a moment, and thenย ๎ขeadosia and Talec exploded out of their seats. โ€œ๎ขis is preposterous!โ€ they cried. โ€œYou canโ€™t assign us to work in theย elds with the laborers.โ€

โ€œYou asked for a demonstration of my justice,โ€ I said. โ€œBe sure to work quickly. I have heard the foremen carry whips.โ€

Talecโ€™s eyes were likeย re. โ€œYouโ€™re both children. Youโ€™ll never hold this throne.โ€

โ€œGuards,โ€ I saidย atly.

I remember worrying that the guards would not obey, that the council would overthrow us both.ย ๎ขat weย wouldย dishonor our parents. A๎‚er what Barnard had done, every face seemed to hide a secret motive that would lead to our deaths.

But then the guards stepped forward and took hold of Talec and

๎ขeadosia.ย ๎ขe doors swung closed behind them, leaving the room in absolute silence. Every pair of eyes around the table sat wide and staring at my brother.

Harristan gestured at the seat to his rightโ€”the seat just vacated by Talec. โ€œPrince Corrick. Take a seat.โ€

I did. No one else dared to say a word.

Harristan has held on to his throne for four years.

Weโ€™re later than usual today, and the food is likely going cool, but heโ€™s in no rush to eat. When my father ran meetings, there was a sense of jovial ease around this table, but thatโ€™s always been lacking during Harristanโ€™s reign.

He glances at me. โ€œYou have the response for Artis?โ€

I place a leather folio on the table before him, along with a fountain pen. He makes a show of reviewing the document, though heโ€™d probably sign a letter authorizing his own execution if I placed it in front of him. Harristan has little patience for lengthy legal documents. Heโ€™s all about grand plans and the broad view. Iโ€™m the one who dwells in details.

He signs with a littleย ourish, lays the pen to the side, and shoves the folio down the table to Jonas Beeching, an older man with a girth as round as he is tall. I guarantee heโ€™s dying to eat, but he eagerlyย ips open the cover. Heโ€™s expecting a positive response, I can tell. Heโ€™s practically salivating at the idea of bringing chests full of gold back to Artis this a๎‚ernoon.

His face falls when he reads the refusal I dra๎‚ed. โ€œYour Majesty,โ€ he says carefully to Harristan. โ€œ๎ขis bridge would reduce the travel time from Artis to the Royal Sector by three days.โ€

โ€œIt should also cost half as much,โ€ I say.

โ€œButโ€”but my engineers have spent months on this proposal.โ€ He glances around the table, then back at us. โ€œSurely you could not make a determination in less than a dayโ€”โ€

โ€œYour engineers are wrong,โ€ I say.

โ€œPerhaps we can come to some sort of compromise.ย ๎ขereโ€”there must be an error in calculationโ€”โ€

โ€œDo you seek a compromise, or do you suspect an error?โ€ says Harristan. โ€œIโ€”โ€ Jonasโ€™s mouth hangs open. He hesitates, and his voice turns rough.

โ€œBoth, Your Majesty.โ€ He pauses. โ€œArtis has lost many lives to the fever.โ€

At the mention of the fever, I want to look at Harristan. I want to reassure myself that heโ€™sย ne.ย ๎ขat the rattle in his breathing this morning was all in my imagination.

I steel my will and keep my eyes on Jonas. โ€œArtis receives a ration of Moonย ower petals, just like the other sectors. If your people need more, they will need to buy it just like anyone else.โ€

โ€œI know. I know.โ€ Jonas clears his throat. โ€œIt seems the warm weather is causing the fever to spread more quickly among the dockworkers. We are having di๏ฌƒculty keeping ships loaded and sta๏ฌ€ed.ย ๎ขis bridge would reduce our reliance on the waterways and allow us to rebuild some of the trade that has been lost.โ€

โ€œ๎ขen you should have asked for an appropriate amount of gold,โ€ I say. โ€œArtis canโ€™t build a bridge without healthy workers,โ€ says Arella Cherry,

who sits at the opposite end of the table. She took over for her father when he retired last year. Sheโ€™s from Sunkeep, a sector far in the south thatโ€™s bordered by the Flaming River on the west and the ocean to the south and east. Her people fare the best from the fevers, and itโ€™s thought that Sunkeepโ€™s high heat and humidity make them less susceptibleโ€”but the heat is so oppressive that their population is by far the smallest of any of Kandalaโ€™s sectors. Sheโ€™s so๎‚-spoken, with rich russet-brown skin and waist-length black hair that she keeps twisted into a looping knot at the back of her head. โ€œMedicine should factor into their proposal.โ€

โ€œEvery city needs healthy workers for all projects,โ€ says Harristan. โ€œWhich is why each city receives a ration of medicine for their people. Including yours, Arella.โ€

โ€œYes, Your Majesty,โ€ she says. โ€œAnd my people fare well because of it.โ€ She pauses. โ€œBut my people are not attempting to construct a bridge across the Queenโ€™s River in the dead heat of summer.โ€

Her voice is quiet and deferential, but thereโ€™s a core of steel beneath her gentle voice and so๎‚ย hands. If she had her way, Harristan would seize Allisanderโ€™s lands along with everyone elseโ€™s, and heโ€™d distribute Moonย ower petals with abandon. Weโ€™d also be thrust into a full-on civil war when the other consuls refused to yield their territories, but sheโ€™s never keen to

acknowledge that side of things.ย ๎ขat said, sheโ€™s one of the few people at this table I enjoy a bit of conversation with.

Unfortunately, the last woman who weaseled her way into my thoughts also tried to poison me and Harristan at dinner. It wasnโ€™t theย rstย assassination attempt, but it was deย nitely the closest anyone has gotten since our parents were killed.

So romance is o๏ฌ€ย the table for me.

Allisander Sallister clears his throat. He sits almost directly opposite me, and his face is pale, with pink spots over his cheeks that look painted on. His hair and brows are both thick and brown, and he wears a goatee that heโ€™s clearly enamored of, but I think looks ridiculous. Heโ€™s only a year younger than Harristan, and they were friends when they were boys. My brother had few companions when we were children, but Allisander was one of the few who had the patience to sit in the library and move chess pieces around a board or listen to tutors read from books of poetry.

But then, when they were teens, Allisanderโ€™s father, Nathaniel Sallister, requested additional lands from a neighboring sector, claiming his farmlands yielded better cropsโ€”and would therefore yield better proย ts, and greater taxes for the Crown. Our father, the king, refused. Allisander then made a plea to Harristan, leaning on their friendship, asking him to intercede on the Sallistersโ€™ behalfโ€”and still, our father, a fair and just man, refused.

โ€œWe cannot force one sector to yield lands to another,โ€ he said to us over dinner. โ€œOur lands were divided by law, and we will not unjustly take from one to give to another.โ€

He made Harristan reject Allisanderโ€™s request personally. Publicly. At a dinner with all the consuls present.

In retrospect, I think Father meant to send a message, that it was unfair to seek favoritism through his children, and he wouldnโ€™t play those kinds of games.

But Allisander took it personally. We didnโ€™t see him in the palace much a๎‚er that.

Not until last year, when his silver-hoarding father stepped down. Harristan had hoped Allisander would be a new voice for his sector, the key to distributing more of the Moonย ower petals among the population.

Instead, heโ€™s worse than his father was. Under Nathaniel Sallister, Moonย ower prices were expensive, but stable. Allisander never misses a chance to negotiate for more. Harristan doesnโ€™t like to think that their controversy as teenagers would have anything to do with the way Allisander barters now, but I have no doubt.

I spend a lot of time at these meetings imagining ways to irritate him.

โ€œA new bridge along with extra medicinal rations would give Artis an unfair advantage at trade,โ€ Allisander says.

โ€œAn unfair advantage!โ€ Jonas sputters. โ€œYou and Lissa control the Moonย ower, and you want to accuse me of seeking an unfair advantage?โ€

Allisander steeples hisย ngers and says nothing.

Jonas isnโ€™t wrong. Allisander Sallister represents the Moonlight Plains, and Lissa Marpetta represents Emberridgeโ€”the two sectors where the Moonย ower, the only known treatment for the fevers that plague Kandala, grows.

๎ขerefore the richest sectors.ย ๎ขe most powerful.

Also, the reason all my imagined irritants for Allisander stay in my head. I can hate him and need him as an ally at the same time. โ€œRegardless of advantage,โ€ I say, โ€œyour motives in your proposal were deceitful, Jonas.โ€

Allisander glances across the table at me and gives a small nod of appreciation.

I nod in return. I want to throw the fountain pen at him.

Roydan Pelham clears his throat from the other end of the table. Heโ€™s pushing eighty, with weathered skin that canโ€™t seem to decide if itโ€™s more beige or more sallow. Heโ€™s served on this council since my grandfather was king. Most of the others seem to grudgingly tolerate him, but I rather like the old man. Heโ€™s set in his ways, but heโ€™s also the only consul who seemed genuinely concerned for us a๎‚er our parents were killed. No one dotes on Harristanโ€”or me, for that matterโ€”but if anyone could be considered doting, it would be Roydan.

โ€œMy people su๏ฌ€er as greatly as Artisโ€™s,โ€ he says quietly. โ€œIf you grant this petition, I will seek the same.โ€

โ€œYou have no river to cross!โ€ says Jonas.

โ€œIndeed,โ€ says Roydan. โ€œBut my people are just as sick.โ€

My brain wants to dri๎‚.ย ๎ขis is a common argument. If the proposal from Artis hadnโ€™t started it, something else would have.ย ๎ขe fever has no cure.

Our people are su๏ฌ€ering. Allisander and Lissa wonโ€™t yield the power and control granted to them by their lands and holdingsโ€”and as much as Harristan would love to be able to seize their properties, the other consuls would never stand for it.

Harristan lets them argue for a few minutes. Heโ€™s more patient than I am. Or maybe heโ€™s just better rested. I did let him sleep till noon, when Iโ€™ve been up longer than the sun.

Eventually, my brother shi๎‚s his weight and inhales, and thatโ€™s all it takes for them to shut up.

โ€œYour petition was rejected,โ€ Harristan says to Jonas. โ€œYou are free toย le another before we convene next month.โ€

๎ขe man sucks in a breath like he wants to argue, but his eyesย ick to me, and his mouth claps shut. My brotherโ€™s temper has a limit, and no one here wants toย nd it.

โ€œWhen your people are su๏ฌ€ering,โ€ Arella says fearlessly, โ€œit would not be inappropriate for the Crown to help make them well.โ€

Harristan looks down the table at her. โ€œAt what cost? All of Kandala is su๏ฌ€ering.ย ๎ขe supply of Moonย ower petals is not endless. How would you choose, Arella? Would you sacriย ce your doses? Your familyโ€™s?โ€

She swallows. She wouldnโ€™t. None of them would.

I think of Harristanโ€™s cough this morning, of his fever last month, and I canโ€™t even blame them.

I wouldnโ€™t either.

โ€œWe will dine now,โ€ says Harristan, and the silent attendants shi๎‚ย away from the wall to begin serving the food. For a short while, the only sound in the room is the clatter of silver against china. But under it all, I catch the low hiss of Jonasโ€™s voice, spoken under his breath to Jasper Gold, the consul from Mosswell.

โ€œ๎ขeyโ€™re heartless,โ€ he says.

I freeze. From the corner of my eye, I see Harristanโ€™s fork go still as well. It might be a coincidence. I wait to see if heโ€™ll acknowledge the words.

He doesnโ€™t.

And because Iโ€™mย notย heartless, I donโ€™t either.

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