Chapter no 10 – Corrick

Defy the Night

For as harried as he always seems, Quint is rather good at chess. It seems like the kind of game that would frustrate him, as so much time is spent sitting quietly and waiting on an opponent, but maybe it gives him an excuse to be still. Tonight, I’m the one who needs something to force me into stillness. I’m restless and antsy and troubled.

My windows are dark, and the re burns low beside us, meaning I should probably be sleeping. So should Quint. My brother went to bed hours ago.

I rarely resent Harristan, but every now and again I wish he could bear the weight of this role, that he could be the one to look every prisoner in the eye as they take their last breath or say their last words or beg for everything I can never give them.

I shi my rook forward and wait, watching as Quint surveys the board. He’ll win. He usually does, but tonight I’m distracted and unsettled, so

Quint has an advantage. Allisander and Lissa le aer dinner, which should be a relief. With evidence of smugglers running loose and whispers of revolution in the street, it’s not. I can’t remember a time when the Royal Sector felt as if it held its breath like this, waiting, but the anxiety has bled into the palace, sharpening tempers to a razor’s edge.

A knock sounds at my door, and I pull my pocket watch free. It’s an hour till midnight.

“Enter,” I call.

e guard swings the door wide. “Your Highness. Consul Cherry requests an audience.”

Quint looks up from the board. “Should I send her away?”

It’s tempting, but Arella has never come to my chambers, and I’m curious. “No.” I run a hand across my jaw and sigh. “Send her in,” I tell my guard.

Allisander always blows into my room like a thunderstorm wrapped up in silken nery, bringing demands disguised as requests, so I’m surprised when Arella eases in like a breeze, stepping quietly, her dark hair unbound, her body encased in a simple velvet gown that reveals every curve yet leaves plenty to the imagination. She curtsies to me, her ngers gracefully liing the heavy velvet of her skirt. “Your Highness.”

I don’t move. “Arella.”

Quint stands and oﬀers her a nod. “Consul Cherry.”

Allisander would ignore him, but Arella nods back. “Master Quint.” Her eyes fall on the chessboard. “Do forgive me for interrupting your game.”

I trace a nger over the top of my wineglass. “We’ll see.”

Quint is waiting to see if I’m going to send him out. He knows everything that goes on in the palace, and there are no secrets between him and me, but many of the consuls act like he’s a nuisance and ask for privacy.

Arella doesn’t. “I’ve seen the display you le at the gate.”

“I’m hoping everyone has seen it. at’s why I le it there.” I glance at Quint. “It’s still your move.”

He eases back into his chair. He glances at me and then back at the board.

He might be the only one in the palace who knows how very much I hate this. All of this.

Arella isn’t easily distracted—or put oﬀ. “Someone will climb up there and steal the ower.”

“Good. en we’ll have a second body. My brother is disappointed we don’t have three strung up there already.”

In all honesty, I actually think Harristan was disappointed we caught one so very quickly. As much as he wants to appease his consuls and oﬀer a show of strength, he doesn’t like the thought of rebellion. When the smugglers were hiding in the darkness, it was easy to see them as criminals, as individuals clearly doing wrong.

It’s hard to bring down the sword of justice on a thousand citizens who scream for rebellion and mercy in the bright light of day.

Arella appears to be choosing her words carefully, so I speak into the silence to say, “You’ve been spending a great deal of time with Consul Pelham.”

I watch her for a reaction, but she oﬀers none. One perfectly manicured eyebrow lis. “Jealous, Corrick?”

“Of an eighty-year-old man?” I smile. “Maybe.”

She doesn’t smile back. “I nd we have similar goals.” “You and Roydan? Tell me more.”

“No.”

“Check,” says Quint.

I glance at the board. He’s moved his knight into position to capture my king, but that’s easily solved. I move one space to the right and look back at Arella. “Allisander and Lissa believe you are making a statement in opposition to them.”

“How lucky for me that I don’t pander to Consul Sallister and Consul Marpetta, then.”

at statement is a little too barbed, and I lose the smile. “Why are you here, Arella?”

“Your people are suﬀering,” she says. “ese whispers of rebellion are not an attack on you and your brother.”

“ey’re not whispers,” I say.

“People are desperate. ey’re dying.” “Check,” says Quint.

I sigh and move my king again. “I know people are dying.”

“Your brother may wear the crown, but everyone knows two consuls rule Kandala.”

My voice gains an edge. “You should watch your words.” “Or what? You’ll throw me into the Hold?”

I inhale a breath of fury, but Quint says, “Check.”

“Damn it, Quint!” I shove my king one more space to the le, then stand to face Arella. “I know our people are dying. So does Harristan. I am doing my best to keep them alive.”

“Hmm. Would the man hanging from the gates agree?”

Her con dence would be impressive if it weren’t all being used to stand against me. “You requested a pardon for the eight smugglers who were imprisoned.”

“Yes. I did.” Her eyes don’t inch away from mine. “Do you think your presentation before the sector gates would have ended in cries for revolution if your brother had granted it?”

I go still.

Outside my window, lights ash, and the faint sound of the alarms carries over the quiet of the night sky.

“Another prisoner,” says Arella. She all but spits the word at me. “Another body for your wall.”

“Another warning to other smugglers,” I snap. “A promise to the people that their medicine supply will be kept safe.”

“e medicine only a privileged few receive?”

My voice is tight. “We grant as much of the supply as we can, and you well know it.”

“True strength is not determined by how brutal you can be,” she says, and her tone is still quiet, but full of steel. “True leadership is not determined by killing those who oppose you.”

“True leadership is not determined by slipping into the prince’s chambers in the dead of night either,” I say. “You could have gone to Harristan at any time, Arella. I notice you waited until the others were gone, and you bring your pleas to me instead of my brother.”

To my surprise, she laughs. “I told you, I care nothing for Lissa and Allisander.” She pauses, and her voice drops again. “I care for my people. I care for your people.” Another pause, and she takes a step closer. “You are the King’s Justice, not his executioner. I thought someone should remind you.”

My jaw is tight, and everything I want to say would be a betrayal to someone who matters.

So I say nothing.

Arella frowns, then oﬀers a curtsy. “ank you for granting me an audience, Prince Corrick.”

Once she’s through the door, I take a long breath and run my hands back through my hair. I look at Quint, who’s sitting impassively beside the chessboard.

“What?” I say.

He inhales as if to answer, then shakes his head. He reaches out and knocks over my king. “Checkmate.”