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Chapter no 17 – Tessa

Defy the Night

Iย should be in a prison cell.

Honestly, I should probably be hanging from the sector wall with daggers in my eyes, a warning to anyone else who might want to sneak into the palace.

Instead, Iโ€™m in a room thatโ€™s six times the size of the one where I live. I have a washroom to myself, which Iโ€™ve never had in my life, and itโ€™s stocked with stacks of linens and towels, in addition to a dozen jars of soaps and lotions and crushed petals that smell of lavender and roses.ย ๎ขere are two faucets branching over the tub, and Iโ€™m shocked to discover that one dispenses warm water. In the boarding house, if we want a bath, we boil water in a stockpot, then use the washtub behind the kitchen.

๎ขe lighting here is brighter than Iโ€™m used to. I know electricity runs in the Royal Sector, but seeing it from the shadows is di๏ฌ€erent from sitting beneath an electric lantern and knowing it will never burn out or need more oil. Six small levers are a๏ฌƒxed along the wall beside the bed, and I gingerly test each one, to discover that every lantern is connected to its own switch.

๎ขe closet isnโ€™t overly full, though itโ€™s been stocked with linen underthings, so๎‚ย silken stockings, and half a dozen dresses made from miles of silk, lace, brocade, and satin. Lace-up boots and velvet slippers and shining shoes line theย oor in three di๏ฌ€erent sizes. Everything reeks of wealth and extravaganceโ€”and, to my surprise, modesty.ย ๎ขe sleeves are tasteful and full. No neckline will reveal any more than a hint of cleavage.

๎ขeyโ€™re all beautiful, and the corseted backs will keep them from being shapeless, but a๎‚er Corrick practically tore my dress o๏ฌ€ย in front of his guard, theyโ€™re not at all what I expected. Did Quint select these clothes? What did he say?

๎‚ปe king will never allow you to keep her here as some kind of tortured concubine.

No one will expect it either. Not in these clothes, anyway.

Every time I move, I expect a guard to come barreling into the room and rip my arms o๏ฌ€. I locked the door, so Iโ€™ll have at least a momentโ€™s warning.

Like that would help me do anything more than panic.

I remove the torn dress and slip into one of the sleeping shi๎‚s in the closet, then belt a dressing gown over the top of it all. I lie on the bed and turn all the switches o๏ฌ€, then stare at the ceiling,ย ickering with gold from theย relight.

Iโ€™ll never fall asleep here. I wonder if Iโ€™ll ever fall asleep again.

I should be thinking of everything Iโ€™ve learned about Corrick and this twisted secret that allows him to torture his people in the daylight while saving them at night. I should be thinking of Karri and Mistress Solomon and how theyโ€™ll react when I donโ€™t return. I should be thinking of how long Iโ€™ll be kept in a room like this, before Iโ€™m ultimately tossed in the Hold.

I should be thinking of a way to get out of here.

Instead, my apothecary mind is thinking about King Harristan. Iโ€™m thinking about the way he started coughing and couldnโ€™t stop. Iโ€™m thinking of the note of fear in Corrickโ€™s voice when he said, โ€œHe isย notย sick.โ€

My brain was still spinning with panic, but I know what that cough means.

I shouldnโ€™t care. I shouldnโ€™t.

I canโ€™t help myself.ย ๎ขey have the best medicine here in the palace.ย ๎ขey dose themselves three times a day, Wes used to sayโ€”which is probably true, since Wes was Corrick, and he was presumably receiving all of those doses.

Is the elixir beginning to fail? Is the king somehow more susceptible to the fever? Or is someone a๏ฌ€ecting his dosage of the Moonย ower, like some kind of reverse poisoning, where they prevent access to something he needs? I have no way of knowing, and Iโ€™m certain no one will feed me the answers. I already slipped into the palace. I donโ€™t need to start inquiring about ways to make the king sick.

My brain wonโ€™t stop working, though. My father used to talk about how too much medicine was sometimes worse than not having enough. Could the king be taking too much?ย ๎ขey have the best apothecaries and doctors here, though. Surely. His dosage is likely well monitored.

If the medicine is losing its e๏ฌ€ectiveness . . . I donโ€™t want to think about the ramiย cations of that.

And if King Harristan dies, that means Corrick becomes king.

I donโ€™t want to think about the ramiย cations ofย thatย either. No matter what he said in his chambers or what he did as Weston Lark, heโ€™s still responsible for a great deal of su๏ฌ€ering. Corrick canโ€™t undo that. Heโ€™s terrifying enough as Kingโ€™s Justice. I can already tell that King Harristan has a limit. He didnโ€™t like the way Corrick was planning to . . . abuse me.

I have no idea where Prince Corrickโ€™s limits are.

I doubt I want toย nd out. I doubt anyone in Kandala wants toย nd out.

My belly is full, and this room is so quiet and warm, such a contrast to those minutes when I was pinned on the coldย oor, Prince Corrickโ€™sย st tight in my hair. I shiver without meaning to.

But then he sat there at the dinner table, when it was just me and him, and for the briefest of moments he was like Wes again, a little funny and a littleย erce.

I press a hand to my chest as my eyes well. My heart aches with each beat. Wes isnโ€™t dead. My brain wants to rejoice.

But Wes wasnโ€™t real. A tear slips free. โ€œMiss.โ€ A hand rests on my arm. โ€œMiss.โ€

I jerk and shove myself upright. I didnโ€™t expect to sleep, but I must have. My limbs feel heavy and slow to work.ย ๎ขe room isย ooded with early morning sunlightโ€”I didnโ€™t draw any of the curtains last night. Iโ€™m still in a sleeping shi๎‚ย and the belted dressing gown, but I never drew a blanket over myself.

A serving girl in a blue dress and a light-gray apron stands over me. She has ink-black hair tied into a tight twist at the back of her head, dark olive skin, and brown eyes. Something about her is familiar, but I canโ€™t place it. Maybe she was among the girls I followed into the palace yesterday.

โ€œForgive me, miss,โ€ she says. โ€œMaster Quint asked me to have you dressed and ready by half past eight. Iโ€™ve drawn your bath.โ€

โ€œI locked the door,โ€ I say.

โ€œI knocked,โ€ she says. โ€œBut you were asleep.โ€ She pauses. โ€œ๎ขe guards have a key.โ€

Iโ€™m not quite awake enough yet. I blink at her. Sheโ€™s young, maybe even younger than I am. I see that two guards are now inside the room, standing

passively by the doorway. I wonder if theyโ€™re here to make sure I donโ€™t get out of hand.ย ๎ขey donโ€™t look too concerned, however. If anything, they look bored. I guess Iโ€™m not an exciting sleeper.

โ€œHowโ€”โ€ I begin. โ€œWhatโ€”โ€

โ€œItโ€™s half past seven,โ€ the girl says. โ€œMy name is Jossalyn. We have little time.โ€

โ€œButโ€”itโ€™s not going to take me an hour to bathe.โ€

โ€œNo, miss. But youโ€™re meeting with the king at midmorning, soโ€”โ€

โ€œIโ€™m what?โ€ I scrub my hands over my face. Anxiety forms a pit in my stomach. โ€œWait. Did you sayโ€”the king?โ€

โ€œYes.โ€ She hesitates, then wrings her hands a bit. โ€œIโ€™ve called for breakfast.

If you bathe now, it will be delivered by the time you dry.โ€

I donโ€™t understand how she could say something likeย youโ€™re meeting with the kingย in the same breath as talking about ordering food, but I shove the hair back from my face. โ€œI canโ€™tโ€”โ€ My voice breaks, and I clear my throat. โ€œI canโ€™t meet with the king.โ€

โ€œIt is by His Majestyโ€™s request,โ€ she says, as if that answers everything.

I glance at the guards by the door.ย ๎ขeyโ€™re both standing stoically, but Iโ€™m sure theyโ€™re paying attention to every word we say now. One is older, and must be pushing sixty, though the other is younger and cast a long glance in my direction when I said I couldnโ€™t meet with the king.

Iโ€™m not sure how I can tell, but itโ€™s obvious that Iโ€™ll meet with the king if they have to drag me there by my toenails.

My heart stops in my chest and takes a moment to start working again.ย Wes. Help me.

๎ขere is no Wes.ย ๎ขereโ€™s only Corrick.

I didnโ€™t expect to survive the night, but Iโ€™ve made it till morning. I press myย ngers into my eyes and take a long breath. I would give anything to open my eyes and be back in Mistress Solomonโ€™s shop, Karri giving me a crooked smile.

โ€œMiss?โ€ says Jossalyn. She leans in until her voice is hardly louder than her breath. โ€œ๎ขe guards have been ordered to assist if you refuse to prepare.โ€

I jerk myย ngers down. โ€œRight. Fine. Time for a bath.โ€

 

 

I havenโ€™t had assistance in the bath since I was a child, but Jossalyn seems unwilling to leave me alone, and I suspect my options are her or the guards, and I know which I prefer. I dunk my head under the water, and when I come up, sheโ€™s ready to scrub my hair.

โ€œI can really do this myself,โ€ I say.

โ€œYes, miss.โ€ She doesnโ€™t stop. Herย ngers work my tangled tresses into a rich lather that smells of vanilla and sweet cream. In any other situation, this might be relaxing: the uncannily warm water, the soothing scents, the gentle pressure of herย ngers. But Iโ€™m naked with a stranger, there are armed guards in the next room, and Iโ€™ll be facing King Harristan in a matter of hours.

In the Wilds, a lot of people call him Harristan the Horrible. I wonder if he knows.

๎ขe instant the thought comes to me, Iโ€™m terriย ed Iโ€™m going to say it out loud. In front of him.

If you throw a glass of liquor at my brother, I really will have to cut your hands o๏ฌ€.

My chest feels tight. I sit still while Jossalyn pours water over my head to rinse my hair, and I imagine my eyes are burning from the suds instead of everything else.

What does he want? Why would he want to see me?

Jossalyn laces me into a gown with fabric so๎‚er than Iโ€™ve ever felt against my skin.ย ๎ขe bodice and underskirt are a rich purple, but the material stretched over top is sheer and white,ย oating in a dozen layers to create a

nished product in lavender.ย ๎ขe neckline curves gently across my collarbones.

Jossalyn lays a towel across my shoulders and unbinds my wet hair. โ€œCome,โ€ she says. โ€œYour breakfast awaits.โ€

๎ขe food looks every bit as delicious as it did last night. Maybe more so. But I only nibble at a bit of sliced fruit because my abdomen is so tense.ย ๎ขe room is so silent, with Jossalyn combing through my damp hair while the guards stand near the doorway.

๎ขis almost feels worse than prison.

No.ย ๎ขatโ€™s such a stupid thought.ย ๎ขe Hold would be awful. Probably.

โ€œBe sure to take your elixir,โ€ Jossalyn says, and my eyes fall on the small glass cup near my plate.ย ๎ขe color is dark amber, so much richer than what

we mix in the workshop, which barely colors the water at all.

I take a sip. It never tastes good, but concentrated, itโ€™s worse than usual. I canโ€™t believe they drink this three times a day. I hope they donโ€™t make me do that.

Such a waste.

Jossalyn weaves my hair into a complicated braid that she pins in loops to the back of my head.ย ๎ขen she ignores my eating and begins smoothing a creamy lotion into my cheeks. I wonder if sheโ€™s used to doing this, preparing women in the palace while they go about ordinary tasks like eating. I get the sense that I could be spinning in circles or having a lively conversation, and sheโ€™d be right there, patiently applying cosmetics.

Invisible, the way people were in the streets yesterday.

I glance at her and try to hold still while she works. Iโ€™m technically a prisoner, but she isnโ€™t treating me like one. She spared me any rough treatment from the guards, which Iโ€™m sure further hesitations would have caused. โ€œ๎ขank you,โ€ I say so๎‚ly. โ€œFor your kindness.โ€

โ€œYes, miss,โ€ she says absently, but I feel her hand hesitate as if Iโ€™ve surprised her.

โ€œDo you . . .โ€ I clear my throat. โ€œDo you know if I . . . if Iโ€™m meeting with the king alone?โ€ Her eyes meet mine, questioning, and I clarify, โ€œWill Corrick be there?โ€

Her hands go still, and she glances at the guards, then back at me. โ€œI do not know the agenda ofย His Highness, Prince Corrick.โ€ She says these last words with gentle emphasis. โ€œ๎ขough Master Quint should, and you can inquire when he arrives.โ€ She dabs at my eyelids with herย ngertips.

His Highness, Prince Corrick. Iโ€™ve never had to consider royal protocol, and even though I know Weston Lark was all a farce, itโ€™s hard to remember that I canโ€™t just call him Corrick either. I swallow. โ€œAnd . . . how do I address the king?โ€

Her voice drops, and she swipes a small brush through a pot of pink powder. โ€œYou address him as Your Majesty, though you should wait for him to address youย rst.โ€ Her eyes meet mine for a moment. โ€œNo one addresses the king by name unless they have been invited to do so.โ€

I nod quickly.

She shi๎‚s slightly closer, and her voice drops further. โ€œItโ€™s intriguing to hear that youโ€™re an apothecary.ย ๎ขe girls have been talking all morning about

how youโ€™ve brought news of a new elixir.โ€

โ€œIโ€”what?โ€ I think of Quintโ€™s musings last night, his need for spin.

โ€œSurely it isnโ€™t a secret.ย ๎ขe guards are the worst gossips anyway. My sister says they earn extra coin for whatever they bring back to their captain.โ€

Iโ€™m not sure what to say to that. When I followed the serving girls yesterday, they were chattering about Consul Cherry and Consul Pelham, something about a scandalous carriage ride.

With a start, I realize I know Consul Cherry. Corrick called her Arellaโ€” the woman who spoke for me when he was being so cruel. She seemed forthright and determinedโ€”not the type to be embroiled in a scandal.

๎ขen again, she was speaking in my defenseโ€”in defense of a presumed smuggler. Maybe thatโ€™s all it takes to generate a scandal around here.

โ€œJossalyn,โ€ says the older man by the door.

She doesnโ€™t evenย inch, simply brushing a stroke of pink along my eyelid. โ€œYes, Lieutenant.โ€

โ€œMaster Quint inquires as to your progress.โ€

โ€œNearly done.โ€ She sets the pot of powder aside and reaches for another.

๎ขe door opens anyway, and Quint enters the room. Heโ€™s carrying what looks like a folded booklet. His jacket is buttoned nearly to his throat this morning, but he still needs a shave, and his red hair is already slightly untamed. โ€œTessa,โ€ he says. โ€œI hope youโ€™ve eaten.โ€

โ€œIโ€”โ€ Iโ€™ve hardly touched anything. โ€œYes?โ€

Jossalyn leans down and dabs color on my lips. โ€œStand up,โ€ she whispers under her breath.

I stand up so quickly that I knock my stool over. โ€œSorry. Yourโ€”โ€ No. Wait.

Heโ€™s not royalty. โ€œAhโ€”Master? Quint.โ€

His eyebrows go up. Jossalyn giggles and rights the stool.

He glances at her. โ€œYou do lovely work, Jossalyn. She hardly looks like an apothecary from the Wilds.โ€

She tucks her hands into her skirts and drops into aย uid curtsy. โ€œ๎ขank you, Master Quint.โ€

I feel like I should be taking notes. Maybe she can go with me to meet the king. I want to grab hold of her hand.

Especially when Quint says, โ€œLeave us. She will be returned to her rooms at sunset to prepare for dinner.โ€

She curtsies again, then slips out the door.

โ€œ๎ขank you!โ€ I call, but sheโ€™s already gone.

๎ขe guards exchange a glance, then follow, pulling the door closed behind them.

Iโ€™m le๎‚ย staring at Quint. Jossalyn was so peaceful in her manner that I began to forget that Iโ€™m a prisoner here.ย ๎ขis dress feels too tight to breathe in. I want to run, to burst through the door and bolt down the hallway and say a prayer for escape. I press a hand against my abdomen and draw a shaky breath.

โ€œBe at ease,โ€ he says. โ€œ๎ขe Tessa I heard stories of could scale the sector walls without fear and pick window locks without leaving a scratch. Surely Iโ€™m not so intimidating.โ€

No. Heโ€™s not. I donโ€™t understand how a man like this can be a friend to a man like Prince Corrick. His voice is so gentle that my eyes begin to well.

He pulls a handkerchief free and holds it out. โ€œDonโ€™t ruin Jossalynโ€™s handiwork.โ€

I take it but sni๏ฌ€ย the tears back. โ€œRight.โ€

๎ขen I realize what he said.ย ๎‚ปe Tessa I heard stories of.

Corrick talked about me? Every time I think I begin to understand him, something else comes along to shatter the illusion.

Quintย ips open the book he carries.ย ๎ขe pages areย lled with notes that look hastily written, and I notice there are ink smudges on hisย ngertips. โ€œAs Iโ€™m sure Jossalyn mentioned, you are to meet with the king at nine, per his requestโ€”โ€

โ€œWhy?โ€

โ€œHe is the king. He doesnโ€™t need to say why. But likely about your medicinal insights.โ€ He looks at me pointedly, and I nearly choke on my breath, but I force myself to nod.

โ€œA๎‚erward,โ€ he continues, โ€œConsul Cherry has asked to see about your welfare, if the king permits, which he likely will, as you seem quite well this morningโ€”โ€

โ€œWaitโ€”I donโ€™tโ€”โ€

โ€œI have quite a bit to get through, my dear.โ€ Quint doesnโ€™t look up. โ€œAt ten, you will begin your lessons with Mistress Kentโ€”โ€

โ€œLessons? Lessons in what?โ€

At that, he stops with hisย nger on the page and looks up at me. โ€œEtiquette.โ€

I open my mouth. Close it. Maybe the Hold would be better.

โ€œFollowed by lunch in the hall,โ€ he continues, โ€œand then the dressmaker will see you in her suite. A๎‚erward, lessons with Master Verityโ€”โ€

โ€œMore lessons?โ€ I squeak.

โ€œโ€”on the current political climate of Kandala. If you are to be in the palace, you simply must know the key players. Once complete, you will return here to dress for dinner, which will likely be a private a๏ฌ€air with Prince Corrick, though I have advised him it should be done in a public location . . .โ€

He keeps talking, but Iโ€™ve stopped listening.

A private a๏ฌ€air with Prince Corrick. In a public location.

My mouth has gone dry. Last night was bad enough in the conย nes of his bedchamber. When we were truly alone, he wasnโ€™t quite as frightening, but thatโ€™s like saying a ravenous wolf is only slightly less terrifying because itโ€™s in the midst of a meal.

I can only imagine what Corrick must be like in public, the Kingโ€™s Justice in the presence of his people.

With a start, I realize I donโ€™t need to imagine it. I watched the execution that ended in cries for rebellion.

I donโ€™t want to dine with that Prince Corrick.

โ€œTessa.โ€ Quint is looking at me. I donโ€™t know how much Iโ€™ve missed, but Iโ€™m guessing it was a lot.

I donโ€™t care. I force my eyes to meet his. โ€œHow can you be his friend?โ€ I whisper.

Quint closes his little book and studies me. โ€œYou were his friend, too, werenโ€™t you?โ€

โ€œNo. I was . . . I was friends with a man who doesnโ€™t exist. A . . . a trick.

An illusion.โ€

โ€œAre you so sure?โ€ Of course Iโ€™m sure.

But then I think of those few moments when the prince smiled, or when his voice gentled, or when he wasnโ€™t being violent and instead treated me with thoughtful consideration.ย Ask your question, Tessa. When the guise of Prince Corrick seemed like a mask that Weston Lark hid behind.

Iโ€™m not sure of anything at all.

Maybe he can read it on my face. Quint pulls his pocket watch free. โ€œShall we go?โ€

My heart wants to fall through theย oor. โ€œIs the Hold still an option?โ€ โ€œ๎ขe Hold is always an option.โ€ He o๏ฌ€ers me his arm.

I hesitate. I still want to panic and run. If this were Corrick in front of me, I probably would.

Quint leans in a bit. โ€œI donโ€™t recommend it,โ€ he says so๎‚ly. So I steel my spine and take his arm.

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