I’ve only been on the boat for half an hour, but my stomach is already threatening to empty itself all over the floorboards of my room. Or possibly Corrick’s room. He can decide when he arrives. We’re not even at sea yet, but I’m ready to tear apart my apothecary kit, because I could chew through an entire twist of ginger root. I definitely wish I’d waited for Corrick on the docks. It might have been raining, but at least it was stable. I press my hands to my abdomen and wonder what’s keeping him. I saw the flicker of worry in Captain Blakemore’s eyes when he looked at the sky.
Rapid footsteps cross the floorboards overhead,
stepping with purpose. I try not to wonder if the storm is worse than they expected, if we’re too late to leave safely. A large porthole sits on the opposite side of the room, heavy glass crossed by steel bars, and rain has been steadily beating at the window since I walked in. I’ve been trying not to look through it because all I can see are the gas lamps on the dock shifting up and down.
When Captain Blakemore showed me to this room, he said, “We’ve given you all the rear quarters since you’re not used to being at sea. The going should be a bit smoother
here.” He then pointed at the ceiling and said something about the officers’ stations and navigational rooms being above us, but by that point, I was trying to keep from stumbling into him again.
It’s bad enough that it happened once.
I wonder if Kilbourne will say something to Corrick. I remember the flare of intrigue in the captain’s eyes when he asked if I would be sharing quarters with the prince. It feels like the kind of detail a guardsman wouldn’t leave unremarked.
A knock raps at the door, and Kilbourne calls, “Miss Tessa. An audience has been—”
My heart leaps. Oh thank goodness. He’s here. I don’t even wait for Kilbourne to finish his announcement before I stride to the door and throw it open.
I stop short. It’s not Corrick. It’s Lochlan. His eyes are hard and his jaw is set.
My heart’s leap turns into a stumble.
I haven’t seen Lochlan since he caused a scene in the candy shop, and I was doubtful when I learned he’d be on this journey. A willowy young man in palace livery stands behind him, but it’s very obvious that he’s been charged with keeping Lochlan out of trouble. He looks more like a student than a guard.
He also looks just as green as I feel.
Lochlan doesn’t waste time on any pleasantries. He pulls a small woven pouch out of a pocket and holds it out. “Here,” he says, and while his voice is gruff, it’s not unkind.
“What is it?”
“It’s from Karri. For the seasickness.” He gives me a quick up-and-down glance. “Peppermint candies. And some ginger caramels. She made them both this morning when she learned we were leaving so soon.” He pauses. “You look like you could use some.”
“Oh.” That tempers some of my wariness. I reach out and take the bag just as the boat gives another surge. I have to grab hold of the doorframe so I don’t crash into Lochlan, too.
My mouth is already watering, and I shove a hand into the bag for one of the caramels. “Thank you,” I say, as I slip one into my mouth. “Don’t you need them?”
“She made some for me, too,” he says. “But I always catch some summer work on the fishing trawlers. I don’t get seasick.” He glances at my hand clutching the wood. “It’ll be better once we pull away from the dock. They’ve got the sails up, so we’re fighting the ropes.”
There’s no belligerence in his voice, and I’m reminded of the way he spoke gently to Karri. I’ve only ever known him as a rebel who tortured Corrick and tried to burn down the palace, but there has to be another side to him that he’s reluctant to show. Karri is too smart, too discerning. She wouldn’t be with a man like him otherwise.
“Be careful,” I say. “You might trick me into thinking you’re kind, Lochlan.”
“I am kind,” he says simply. The boat sways, and he compensates, then throws a glare at the ceiling. “Figures we’d be made to wait on that stupid, spoiled—”
“I suggest you not finish that sentence,” says Kilbourne, and all the warmth that existed in his tone earlier is gone now.
“What are you going to do?” says Lochlan. “Throw me overboard? Don’t think I don’t know why I was invited.”
“You were invited as an extension of trust,” I say.
Surprise lights in his expression, and he gives a brief, derisive laugh. Any flickers of kindness have vanished. “The sad thing is that you really believe that. Karri loves you, so I’m going to have to assume you’re just naive, because anything else would be insulting.”
“Oh, good,” I say. “I’m glad you’re not going to get
insulting.”
He takes a looming step toward me, and my heart thumps.
He must see the fear in my expression because he stops. “Again,” he says, “you’re scared of me, when you should be scared of him. You probably think he brought you for some reason other than keeping him warm at night.” My cheeks flame, but he’s not done. “Somehow you’re smart enough to make the Moonflower work better, but you’re too stupid to figure out that the King’s Justice is a dirty liar who should be chained to the rudder—”
Kilbourne shoves him into the opposite wall so hard that the doors rattle. The movement is so quick and so violent that I give a little yip and press my hands to my abdomen. He might be good-natured, but he’s still a guardsman. Even Silas looks startled, but he catches up more quickly than I do. He puts a hand against Lochlan’s shoulder to pin him there, then glances at Kilbourne as if to ask if they’re taking it further.
Lochlan doesn’t fight him; he just looks at me. “Do you see?”
“I gave you fair warning,” Kilbourne says.
Footsteps echo from the opposite direction, and I turn to see Captain Blakemore approaching, followed by Corrick and Rocco.
The captain’s steps slow as he sizes up the situation. The hallway is narrow, but he waits for Corrick to draw abreast. “Your Highness. Are your people going to be a problem?”
Corrick’s eyes flick from me to Lochlan. “It doesn’t look like my people were the ones causing the problem. Silas, see that he returns to his quarters.”
Lochlan draws himself up like he’s going to retort, but then he lets out a breath and shakes his head. He looks at me. “Just wait. You’ll see.” He pauses, then throws a look of pure hatred Corrick’s way. “And when it happens,” he says to me, “be sure to tell Karri I loved her.” Then he shoves past the prince and the captain and slips into a room just a bit down the hall.
Corrick looks at me. His hair is damp, his clothes shining where rain soaked into the shoulders of his jacket. His eyes, as usual, are piercing. “Did he hurt you?”
“No,” I say. I realize my fingers are still clutched around the candies that Karri sent. “He wasn’t doing anything wrong.” As I say the words, I can’t decide if they’re true. Too much happened in a short span of time. “He brought me medicine from Karri.”
“Are you unwell, Miss Cade?” says Captain Blakemore. “I just need to get used to the motion of the boat,” I say.
There’s too much tension in the hallway, and I want to undo it. I just have no idea how. “Corrick, I … I didn’t know which room you’d want.”
“Any room will do,” he says. His eyes haven’t left mine. “Captain, you have my thanks.” Then, without hesitation, he takes my hand, leads me into the room at my back, and closes us inside.
 |
Before I learned the truth about Weston Lark, I never saw the prince up close—if I ever saw him at all. But the few times I did see Prince Corrick, I remember that he always looked distant and aloof, his eyes cold and unforgiving. The perfect King’s Justice. The perfect executioner.
The night he caught me sneaking into the palace was the first time I knew him for who he truly was, and I’ll
never forget the look of panic and fear and uncertainty that was etched into his features for one brief second, before going cold and hard and unreadable, the truest mask he ever wears.
Those are the same eyes looking at me right now. “Are you sure?” he says to me, and there’s a demand in his tone, a demand backed by concern. “I saw the guard shove him away. You weren’t hurt?”
“No,” I say. “He didn’t hurt me. He was just … just mouthing off. Kilbourne shouldn’t have hit him.” The first small caramel has dissolved, and my stomach already feels better. I take one of the peppermints next.
Corrick watches my action, but he says nothing. I wish I could read his expression.
I hold out the bag. “Would you like one?”
He hesitates, then shakes his head. “No. Thank you.”
The cabin is dim, lit only by an oil lantern hung suspended along the wall. It’s light enough for me to see his tension, the tight set of his shoulders.
I should have waited on the dock.
After a moment, this candy settles my stomach enough for me to take a deep breath, and maybe that eases the tension in the room, because Corrick sighs, too. He runs a hand back through his damp hair, then begins roughly jerking at the buttons of his jacket. Once it’s loose, he shrugs free to toss it over the back of a chair.
“So you’d like this room?” I say to him. His eyes snap to mine. “What?”
“Captain Blakemore asked me which room I’d like, and I told him I ought to wait for you to choose yours first.”
His eyes narrow the tiniest bit. “Did he.”
Much like his eyes, I can’t read his voice at all. “You’re the King’s Justice. I only thought it appropriate—”
“Lord, Tessa. I don’t care which room I have.”
He’s so uneasy. The worst part is that I don’t know what worries him the most. Leaving his brother? Going to Ostriary? Lochlan? Captain Blakemore?
The ship sways, and my stomach dips, and once again, I stumble. Corrick lightly catches my waist.
“We must be shoving off,” he says.
“Why is everyone else so sure-footed?” I say, aggrieved. “Oh, I’m not,” he says. “I grabbed hold of you for
balance.”
He’s teasing, but his voice is too grave for it to be funny. I swat him on the arm anyway, and he half smiles, but he doesn’t let go of me. A hand lifts to stroke a stray lock of hair back from my cheek.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” he says softly. In his tone, I hear a dozen things unsaid: his longing, his hope … his fear. It reminds me of that moment with Harristan in my quarters.
Corrick quietly adds, “Harristan snuck into my carriage for the drive here.”
My eyebrows go up. “He did?” Corrick nods.
I want to be surprised, but … I’m really not. I’m touched. One of my favorite things about the brothers is their endearing closeness. I wish they would allow others to see it. It’s the most humanizing thing about them.
“He confronted Captain Blakemore and demanded my safe return,” Corrick says. “I thought the guards might have a fit.”
That makes me smile, but it’s fleeting, because I can hear the worry in his voice. “Harristan is afraid.”
I expect Corrick to say something bold, like, The king fears nothing.
He doesn’t. “We all are, Tessa.”
I want to touch him, but I hesitate, because I’m so used to guarding my emotions when I’m with him in public. But we’re alone. We’re out of the palace. What he’s risking— what they’re both risking—is profound. I wonder what the king said to him before watching his brother climb onto a ship to an unknown country. I wonder if I can ask.
Maybe I don’t have to. The emotion is right there in his gaze.
I reach out and put a hand to his cheek.
He takes a breath, then closes his eyes. His hands are still on my waist, but he’s not steadying me anymore—he’s holding me, which is altogether different. Something about it reminds me of our days in the workshop, when we were listening to the sector alarms blare and we were worried about the night patrol.
I sigh and lean into his strength. “I’m glad you’re here, too.”
His eyes open to find mine, and his hands shift, his thumbs skirting along my abdomen. It’s such a tiny movement, but my heart kicks.
I’m not sure if I make a sound or take a breath or if there’s just a spark in the air, but Corrick’s blue eyes seem to darken a shade, and then his mouth is on mine.
At first he’s slow, controlled, gauging my response. After weeks of chaste walks and courtly manners and light kisses at sundown, I nearly melt right into his arms. When I yield to his touch, he grows more sure, his lips chasing mine, and I feel the bare edge of his teeth, then the brush of his tongue. He tastes like peppermint—or maybe I taste like peppermint, sharp and sweet. He pulls me closer, until I’m all but flush against him, and a bolt of warmth shoots through my belly. The only time he’s ever kissed me like this was in the Wilds. In the workshop. He keeps so much
of himself hidden that I somehow forgot he could be like this, all wildfire attraction and unbound passion.
His hand shifts higher, growing more daring, until his thumb brushes across the bodice of my dress, lighting a fire in my belly and stealing every clear thought from my head. I shiver and make a tiny sound, and that’s all the encouragement he needs to tug the laces a bit looser. His mouth finds my neck, and his fingers slip past the laces of my bodice to trace the swell of skin.
I inhale sharply. “Oh,” I whisper, because I can’t think of any other words. I’m sure someone will be knocking at the door for the prince at any moment, but right now, I don’t care. Butterflies scatter in my abdomen. “Oh.”
He smiles at my reaction, lifting his head to kiss me again. His arm snakes around my back to pull me even closer, and this time we’re clutched so tightly that I can feel everything. The boat sways again, and I press against him, and it’s his turn to make a low sound in his throat.
“I’ve wanted to be alone with you for so long,” he says, and there’s no disguising the intense longing in his voice. I don’t know if he means the time we’ve been together in the palace, where watching eyes and listening ears were everywhere, or if he means the time we spent together in the Wilds as Wes and Tessa, when he was so afraid of discovery that he’d never let me catch a glimpse of him without his mask.
Either way, it doesn’t matter. He kisses me again, his fingers slipping under my corset in a way that makes me whimper into his mouth.
“Hush,” he whispers, and a wicked light sparks in his eyes like we’re co-conspirators. “We shouldn’t give Rocco and Kilbourne too much to think about.”
My cheeks burn fiercely—but my thoughts have stalled on his comment, tempering some of my flames. A part of
me doesn’t want him to stop. I crave the strength of his hands and the warmth of his mouth. I want him to keep going until every last stitch of fabric is on the floor.
But another part of me knows he’s only being so free because we are out of the palace, where Prince Corrick would never be caught bedding a … a commoner.
We shouldn’t give Rocco and Kilbourne too much to think about.
The words seem to have a lot of different meanings, and I’m sure he means to protect me from the listening ears of the guards.
But just now, on the tail of Lochlan’s comments about Corrick’s reasons for bringing me along, it’s enough to chase all my warmth away. Because there’s a part of that sentence that sounds like he’s protecting himself.
Corrick notices immediately, because he’s drawn back to look at me. “Tessa?”
“I—just—we should—” I’m choking on my words because my thoughts—to say nothing of my body—weren’t ready for such an abrupt change in direction. I have to take a deep breath to steady myself. I tug at the laces of my corset, pulling it tight again. “You’re right. We shouldn’t give the guards reasons to gossip.” My cheeks feel hot, and I already know I’m going to have trouble looking Rocco in the eyes. “We’ve been in here too long. Surely it’s inappropriate—”
“Tessa.” His hands fall on mine, forcing them still.
For a moment, I let him. My eyes are on the collar of his shirt, on the smooth column of his neck. His fingers are warm against my own.
He ducks his head, his eyes seeking mine. “Talk to me,” he says. Quietly. Gently. No command in his tone.
I pull my hands free and fuss with the laces, dodging his gaze. I don’t know what to say. My emotions are all tied up
in knots, my stomach churning again. This time, it has nothing to do with the rocking of the ship. All my thoughts are crashing into each other, and I hate—hate—that Lochlan put these doubts in my mind.
But now they exist, and they cling to the inside of my head and refuse to let go.
“Lochlan thinks you brought him along just so you can make sure he falls overboard,” I say. “Please tell me that’s not true.”
Corrick blinks and draws back. It takes him a moment to answer. “I wouldn’t shed a tear if it happened. That shouldn’t be a surprise.”
It’s not a surprise. But it’s also not the answer I want to hear. “Is that why you brought him? Are you and Harristan getting rid of him?”
I don’t know what’s making me demand answers on this, of all things. There’s no love lost between me and Lochlan either. But despite all his promises, I know everything Corrick has done. The King’s Justice was feared throughout Kandala for a reason.
And maybe the thought of asking questions about myself
is too frightening to bear.
Corrick’s eyes have locked down so quickly that it’s like I’ve been thrust into a room with a stranger. “I could have put a rope around his neck on the docks, Tessa.” His voice is cold and flat when he says it. “I could’ve had the guards put an arrow in his chest in that candy shop. I could have had him chained to a post and set on fire during the—”
“Stop it!” I say sharply. “Stop!”
“As I’ve said in the past, I bring nightmares to life. If I wanted him dead, I didn’t need to drag him aboard a ship. Trust me, I’d rather have another guard with us.”
My heart keeps clipping along, and I’m completely flushed for an entirely different reason from five minutes
ago. I don’t know how he can shut down his emotions so quickly. Right now, it’s a talent I wish I shared. “Any of those things would have been public,” I say. “On a ship, you could claim he fell, or that he was killed—”
“Do you mean to accuse me of something?”
His voice is low and dangerous, and for a brief second, I remember Captain Blakemore’s voice on the dock when he worried that he might be putting me at risk.
I hate the path all my thoughts have chosen to follow. I have to swallow and square my shoulders, and I knot my corset tightly. “No,” I say. “I hope you find this cabin acceptable. I’ll … I’ll retire to my own.” I turn for the door.
Corrick catches my arm, and I gasp, expecting him to grab me, but he doesn’t. His fingers are gentle, which shouldn’t be startling, but it is. When he hears my indrawn breath, he lets me go instantly. Something fractures in his gaze. “Tessa. Please. Stop. Tell me what just happened.”
“You said you’ve waited so long.” He frowns, but he nods.
“I didn’t make you wait,” I say.
He’s frozen in place for the longest time, his jaw tight as he regards me. He’s the brother to the king. He can’t make promises or declarations. I know he can’t.
My cheeks are hot again, but I hold his gaze. “I don’t deserve to be treated like a secret, Corrick.”
A muscle in his jaw twitches. I wish he would say something. I wish he would do something.
“Forgive me,” he finally says, and his voice is as proper and courtly as I’ve ever heard it. “That wasn’t my intent.”
I know, I want to say, but I don’t know. Just like with the man in the candy shop, or with Lochlan’s presence on this ship, I don’t know. Not for sure.
So I curtsy just as formally, as if I weren’t just drowning in the taste of his mouth. “Thank you, Your Highness.”
That hits him like a dart. I can almost see the impact. He takes a step back and gives me a nod. “I bid you a pleasant evening, Miss Cade.”
That hits me like a dagger. My throat swells and my eyes blur, and I have to turn on my heel and stride for the door.
Just as I open it, I hear his voice, soft and beseeching. “Tessa.”
But the door is already open, Rocco and Kilbourne both standing at attention in the hall.
I don’t look at either of them. I allow the door to fall closed behind me, and I step across the corridor to close myself alone in the last remaining room.
