The blade has stopped spinning, but unease has pooled in my belly, as if nothing will release the pressure between Rian and Corrick until they come to blows. I’ve seen Corrick climb a rope a hundred times, but this felt too loaded, too tense, too dangerous. When his foot slipped, my heart stopped dead in my chest.
But now they’re back on the deck, and no one looks happy.
Little Anya says, “Miss Tessa. It’s your turn.”
I blink and look over. She points down at the dagger.
The point has stopped right at the toe of my boot.
Rian and Corrick are still locked in a death stare, but I put a hand on the captain’s arm. “Rian,” I say quietly. “Continue the game. Tell me what you want.”
He finally tears his gaze away, turning to meet mine. “Yes,” says Corrick. “Tell her what you want, Captain.”
We’re all so close, and it feels as though the boat could sway and tip me into one of them. Rian’s eyes are on mine now, and my breathing goes shallow. I have no idea what he could ask for, and the moment stretches between us. Butterflies spin in my gut. He’s so mad at Corrick. He’s so protective of his crew. He’s protective of me. Somehow I
feel like a pawn and a princess all at the same time, both eager and afraid.
He takes a step closer to me, and I hold my breath. I half expect him to ask for something just to aggravate Corrick. A kiss. An hour alone. An embrace.
But Rian’s eyes hold mine, and he doesn’t ask for any of those things. “I want to know the purpose of those ships that are following us. I want to know how to ensure they turn back.”
It’s the first time his voice has ever been harsh toward me, and it’s my turn to freeze. “I don’t know,” I say. His expression doesn’t change, and I rush on, “Truly, I don’t know.”
“Prince Corrick does,” he says. “My terms were very clear. I told you I wouldn’t lead warships back to Ostriary.”
“And I didn’t send warships to follow you,” Corrick says. “They’re not mine.”
“I realize that you think I’m just a stupid sailor,” says Rian. “But even on my worst day, I know how to use a spyglass. I can see how those ships are outfitted.”
“Then allow me to use your spyglass, because I have no idea where those ships came from.”
Rian stares back at him. The tension somehow grows thicker.
Marchon steps forward. “Here,” he says. He’s offering a spyglass to Corrick. “We’re close enough. That’s the flag of Kandala, yes?”
Corrick takes the spyglass and looks. He’s gone completely still.
“Your ships have no purpose this far into the ocean,” Rian says. “So try again.”
“I didn’t send them,” Corrick says again. He lowers the spyglass. Some of the animosity has disappeared from his voice. “Truly.”
“I might have believed you when we were still in the river, but now we’re too far south of Sunkeep. In another day we’ll be in dangerous territory, and those ships cannot follow us.”
“Because you think they’ll wreck?” says Corrick. “If you’re so concerned, maybe we should just wait and see how they fare.” He pauses. “If you’re as honorable as you say, their presence should be of no concern.”
The captain runs a hand across the back of his neck, clearly agitated. His jaw is set, his shoulders tight. Rocco has moved close again.
Actually, so has Kilbourne. Sablo and Marchon aren’t far either. For the first time, I realize that the tension has spread beyond just a battle of wills.
“Rian,” I say softly. “If the king sent ships, it was protection for Corrick. They’re not hostile.”
He glances at me, but his eyes return to the prince. “Then your brother has put me in a bad position, Your Highness. Since you like to speak of advantages, I would like to remind you that you and your people are outnumbered. Your ships will not fire on mine while you are on board. It’s no secret where your vulnerabilities lie—”
Rocco moves so swiftly that I’m barely aware he’s there, blocking me and Corrick from the captain, one weapon drawn. Kilbourne is just to our side.
Sablo and Marchon are there, too. Lochlan is on his feet, glancing between the two men, but Gwyn has dragged her daughter out of the fray. I can hear the little girl squealing in protest, but my eyes are locked on the conflict.
I expect Rian to tell everyone to back down, the way he has before, but he’s not the one to speak up. To my surprise, Corrick is.
“Rocco. Kilbourne. Stand down.”
His voice is quiet and steady, and they obey—barely.
They each take one step back.
Sablo and Marchon haven’t moved. If they drew a weapon, Corrick would never be able to move in time.
“Captain,” says Corrick, “if you don’t like fighting on your ship, I suggest you not issue threats you can’t walk back.”
“I didn’t threaten you.” He glances at those ships on the water. “Kandala is the aggressor here.”
I glance at Corrick and think of what he said about the rebels, about the king—how they listened to me when it came down to trust. But I have no idea how to fix … this.
I go to take a step forward, to somehow convince Rian that those ships aren’t warships, but before I can move, Corrick catches my wrist. He doesn’t look at me, but there’s an urgency in his grip. A plea that I don’t fully understand.
I go still again.
“Rian.” My voice is too soft, and I wet my lips. “They’re not warships,” I say. “They’re not. I know you think he’s a villain, but Kandala truly needs medicine. Corrick might have done horrible things, but they’re not bringing a battle to Ostriary. There’s no purpose. They barely avoided a revolution. They wouldn’t start a war with another country. I swear it, Rian. I swear it.”
He says nothing.
“Please,” I say quietly. “Please believe me.”
“That much is true,” says Lochlan, and Rian’s eyes shift his way.
Lochlan shrugs. “I might’ve hoped for the prince to fall
—but we really do need medicine. They can barely manage their own people, Captain. Even if they wanted to attack Ostriary, there’s hardly an army to fight.”
Rian runs a hand across the back of his neck again. He hasn’t looked this agitated before. It reminds me of the moment I begged him to continue the game, and he turned harsh eyes my way.
Corrick’s hand is still on my wrist, but he still hasn’t looked at me. “I think our competition may have gotten the best of us this evening, Captain.” His voice is so smooth, the way he used to cajole Consul Sallister into yielding— because every word sounds absolutely sincere. “I give you my word that I do not know the origin of those ships, but I understand your suspicion. Perhaps we should make an early night of it so you and your crew can determine a way to move forward. If you’d like to return us to Port Karenin, I’d fully understand.”
Rian studies him, and a muscle twitches in his jaw. Sablo and Marchon stand at his side, ready for whatever order their captain gives.
Corrick flexes his hand and grimaces. “In truth, I’d appreciate the time to find some tweezers and a bit of salve, because I obviously don’t have the hands of a sailor.”
One of the crewmen snorts. I think it’s Tor. A ripple of quiet laughter goes through the people on deck. Rian looks like he wants to roll his eyes, but he doesn’t. “Fine. Return to your quarters.” He glances at Sablo. “Stand down,” he says. “Allow him to leave.”
Corrick turns to me. “Miss Cade, do you have any salve left?”
There’s so much tension on deck that I don’t know how to respond to the formality, so I hesitate, then nod. “Yes— yes, Your Highness. I have some in my quarters.”
He gives me a nod in return. “Excellent. Let’s head below.” He offers me his arm.
So much tension clings to the air that I don’t know which location carries less risk: down below with Corrick,
or up here with Rian. But if I stand here deliberating, it’s going to make everything worse, and I sense that the dynamics have changed. I hold my breath and take his arm, and we descend the staircase in silence.
I feel Captain Blakemore’s eyes on me the whole way.
 |
At the bottom of the stairs, I’m surprised when both guards take up stations in the narrow hallway. More than that: Kilbourne raps at the door of the quarters the guards are sharing, then orders a sleepy-eyed Silas to stand at the top of the staircase and keep watch.
“I’ll get the salve and leave it with Rocco,” I say to Corrick.
“I’ll wait,” he says, and there’s something in his tone that reminds me of the way he insisted that Mistress Woolfrey not make him a new drink.
He’s unsettled. That says more than anything he said to Rian on deck.
I swallow and nod and slip into my quarters. When I return with a satchel of supplies, Corrick is there waiting. I offer him the bag, but he gives me a look, then opens the door to his own quarters.
“Come in, Miss Cade.”
I step past him into the room. Only two lanterns are lit, so the room is dim, and his eyes are shadowed, only revealing blue irises when the lanterns flicker.
Now that I’m here, I’m not sure what to say.
I jerk my eyes away from his and set my bag on the table, fishing through it for my salve. “I’ll take care of your hands and leave you in peace,” I say quickly. “Just let me—” “I don’t care about my hands,” Corrick says. “And I don’t
want you to leave.” He pauses, his eyes holding mine
intently. “If you don’t want to be in my presence, I’ll join the guards in the hallway. But I’d rather not allow you out of my sight.”
I frown. “Why?”
“When the captain speaks of my vulnerabilities, it’s very clear what that means.”
A cold spike of fear pierces my chest and lodges there. I don’t know how to respond. This is like that moment in the carriage, when Corrick was afraid of Lochlan using me against him.
That was different, I said.
Was it? How?
It reminds me of another moment, the first night I had dinner with Corrick, when Consul Sallister himself threatened to cut off the supply of Moonflower to the entire Royal Sector. Corrick was smooth and assured, then, too.
Who just yielded? I said to him.
He did, but it looks like I did, Corrick replied. And that’s what’s most important.
I think about that moment he grabbed my arm on deck. The way he told Rocco and Kilbourne to stand down. The way the crew laughed when they thought he couldn’t handle a little rope burn, when I’ve seen Corrick grit his teeth and not make a sound when a literal needle was stitching his skin back together.
“You pretended to yield,” I say softly.
“Yes,” Corrick says. “I know what men are capable of when they feel they have no other choices, Tessa. He is very worried about those ships.”
“I don’t think he would hurt me,” I say. “I certainly won’t let him.”
His voice hides the promise of violence, and I shiver again. “Maybe this isn’t about the ships at all. Maybe he’s
angry that you keep demanding to know what’s in that room.”
“I have a right to demand it. The captain is hiding something, and I haven’t yet decided whether it’s worth the risk to force his hand.”
“Just like you hid the ships!”
“I didn’t send those ships,” he says. “And as much as it might pain you to accept this, Captain Blakemore may be in charge of this vessel, but he is not in charge of Kandala or Ostriary. He is a means to an end.”
“It looks like you lied.”
“If I’m responsible for every moment of suffering in Kandala since the assassination of my parents, then lying shouldn’t come as much of a surprise.”
I study him in the darkness. His voice is cool and smooth, the voice of the King’s Justice, but I’ve known for a while how many masks he can wear. He’s been so sharp and prickly since we climbed on board this ship that I’ve been judging him the same way.
If I’m responsible for every moment of suffering in Kandala.
With a start, I realize Corrick isn’t just talking about Captain Blakemore’s perception of him. He’s talking about me. Lochlan. The people in that candy shop. Everyone.
Including himself.
I realign everything he’s said since he got on board. I was waylaid by Lochlan’s comments, and my doubts were reinforced by Rian’s own thoughts about Corrick.
But the prince got on this ship because he wanted a better way.
I haven’t yet decided whether it’s worth the risk to force his hand.
So Corrick risked his life instead of picking a fight.
And when a fight seemed apparent, Corrick all but threw himself on his own sword.
It’s exactly what he did when he was in the palace. He couldn’t fight Allisander Sallister without risking everything, so he went out into the Wilds to help people in a different way.
All while allowing everyone to think he was the most vicious man in the country.
I move to the table and pick up the jar of salve. “Will you let me take a look at your hands?”
“I told you. My hands are fine.”
I draw an exasperated breath and stride across the room to him. I let my bag drop to the floor and seize his wrist.
I half expect him to pull away from me, but he doesn’t resist at all. In fact, he looks somewhat amused. “Your bedside manner has grown rather rough.”
I gentle my grip. “I’m sorry. I thought—” I stop myself. “I don’t know what I thought.”
“You thought I’d fight you.”
Yes.
But I can’t say that, because it feels like we’re talking about something else entirely, and my heart skips a beat. We’re so close together. I can breathe in his scent, and it reminds me of when we’d stand together in the workshop, when it was just the two of us against the night.
I uncurl his fingers to find two of them already red and blistered, with a neat tear in the skin across his palm. The injury isn’t terrible, but I’m sure it hurts.
“Come sit,” I say. “Let me wrap it for the night.”
He studies me, his eyes searching mine, but then he nods.
I pull a roll of muslin from my pack, along with some other herbs, and we drop into the seats. I open the jar of
salve and dab some onto the worst of the wounds. His hand rests in mine, warm and steady, and he’s so quiet that I can hear each inhale.
When I glance up, his eyes are right there, watching me. “I can’t believe you did this,” I say quietly.
“You think I should’ve just let go? You’re not the only one, I’m sure.”
“No. I meant the climbing. The competition.”
“I wanted an answer.” He pauses. “You climbed the mast, too.”
“Well, I wasn’t racing. It was still terrifying.” My heart jumps at the memory of the spinning sky, the rough water below. “Why was he acting like you cheated?”
“When I slipped,” he says, “the captain stopped to tell me how to guide my feet back onto the ropes. In doing so, he lost his chance to take the lead.”
I frown and shake my head. “I don’t understand why he would help you if he’s worried that you and Harristan are working against him. Do you think there’s any chance that he’s being earnest? That maybe he really is worried you’re going to take advantage of him?”
“No. I think I’m the king’s brother, and it wouldn’t go well for him if I fell to my death.”
“Hmm.” I pat a final bit of salve into the injury, then begin to wrap his hand with muslin. “Maybe he sees you as a man trying to keep his brother on the throne through any means possible, while he’s just trying to help everyone.”
“I’ve told you before that I’d walk out of the palace if I could. Harristan probably would, too. And then what? We leave governing to Allisander? Or Baron Pepperleaf? Do you really think that would be better?”
No, I don’t.
Just when I tie off a knot, he closes his fingers around mine, and I look up.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
I hold his gaze, and I think of all the things he could be apologizing for, and I swallow.
Then he continues, “I’m sorry I can’t be altruistic.” That wasn’t even on my list. I frown. “Don’t be silly.”
His thumb brushes my wrist. “I know he caught your eye at dinner. I know he seems to be everything you want.”
My heart thumps hard in my chest. “He’s not everything I—”
“Yes,” Corrick says. “He is. I know he is.”
“How?” I whisper. “How do you know that?”
“Because he’s the kind of man Weston Lark would be, if he were real.”
“He’s not—” My chest is tight, and I have to take a breath. “He’s not Weston Lark.”
“I’m not either, Tessa.” He pauses, considering. “The other day, Rian compared my actions as King’s Justice to locking someone in a room without food or water, then punishing them for trying to escape. I hate him, but I hate that he keeps making me think that he’s right, that Harristan and I have solved nothing. That we’ve only created more problems.”
I stare at him. “Corrick. You haven’t locked anyone in a room.”
“Tessa.” He gives me a look.
“No! I mean—you have. But that’s not his analogy. You didn’t cause the illness. You didn’t force people into this situation. The fever sickness isn’t your fault.”
He frowns and looks away.
“Do you understand that?” I say. “There are a lot of things that you could have done differently—but this part is not your fault. It’s not.” I swallow. “If the fevers locked people in a room to starve, you were the guard sneaking them food and water.”
“So were you.” He finally lets go of my hand, but it’s only to reach up and touch a finger to my cheek, tracing the line of my jaw. I shiver.
He frowns and draws back. “Forgive me.” “No! You don’t—I don’t—it’s—you’re—”
A line forms between his brows as I stumble over my words, and I blow a breath out through my teeth. Corrick is terrible and wonderful and aggravating and inspiring, and somehow he manages all of it, all at once. He allows everyone to think the worst of him, and all the while, he sacrifices everything he wants for the betterment of others. I don’t know if I want to punch him in the face or wrap my arms around him.
I make a frustrated sound and throw my arms around his neck. “I hate you so much.”
He catches me, but lightly, his hands soft against my waist. “I’ve always told you that would work out for the best.”
And then I realize that his hands haven’t moved, that I might be attached to his neck like he’s a life raft keeping me above water, but he’s holding me like perhaps I’ve mistaken him for someone else.
I draw back a bit so I can see his eyes. I don’t hate him at all. Not really. But I think of our argument at sunrise yesterday. Every word he spoke was true, but he was so biting, so cruel.
“You’re still doing it,” I say. “Doing what?”
“Hiding who you are.”
He ducks away, but I put a palm against his cheek, and he goes still.
“You are,” I say. “You say you can’t be altruistic—but I think you can. I think you want to be. Instead, you set everyone you meet as an adversary. You turn people into
opponents before they have a chance to be an ally. Even the day I snuck into the palace and you had me chained in your quarters, you could have been kind, and you could have been gentle, and you could’ve explained.”
His eyes close. His jaw is so tight.
I brush my thumb against his cheek, tracing the skin his mask once covered. “You said you never took the mask off in the Wilds because you couldn’t take a chance that I might recognize you. But I don’t think that’s true. I think you were afraid for me to know who you were. I think the King’s Justice is afraid to be vulnerable, even in front of me.”
He flinches.
“Cory,” I whisper, and his breath catches. “You don’t like who I am, Tessa.”
“I don’t like who you pretend to be.” I swallow, and it hurts. “I love the man I think you are. But sometimes it takes me a little while to figure out which one is real, and which one is just another face you show others.”
His eyes search mine, but he says nothing.
“Like when you came on board,” I say. “That first night.” My cheeks grow warm, but I force myself to keep going. “You were so careful in the palace, and then we were here, and I thought maybe—”
“I know what you thought.” His voice is rough. “I stepped onto this ship, and I realized what I was leaving behind. What I was risking. And I was so relieved that we would be facing it together. It reminded me of the Wilds, and I … I found myself regretting all the times we could have been together, and I stopped you. Because you’re right about everything. I know what Lochlan said, and I now realize how it seemed, and for that, I apologize. Truly.”
“I’m sorry, too.”
“Lord, Tessa. Never apologize to me. You always make me better.”
“Is that really what you think?” He frowns, and I rush on, “In the candy shop, I thought you were going to kill that man.”
“I didn’t.”
“No! I know you didn’t.” I can’t meet his eyes now. “But I thought you were going to, and when you didn’t, I was … I was so worried that the only reason you didn’t kill him was because I was standing right there.”
His lip quirks up, as if he’s somewhat confounded but also amused. “I feel as though you’re proving my point.”
“No! I just—” I blow a breath through my teeth and stare at him. I know exactly what he means about vulnerability, because this is so hard to say while looking into his eyes. My voice is very small. “Sometimes … sometimes you are still very frightening.”
He inhales, but I put a hand up. “Wait!” I say. “Please. The worst part is that … is that I know you have to be. I’ve seen that. I know the King’s Justice can’t be some benevolent figure either. I know what’s at risk for you and Harristan. I do.” I pause. “I just … I wish sometimes your illusions weren’t so effective.”
“No illusions now,” he says.
It’s the same thing he said to me once before, when he was covered in blood and shaking from what he’d had to do to two men who’d attempted to escape from the Hold.
But this is different. This moment is different. My heart flutters, but Corrick draws himself up, putting distance between us.
“When we were in Kandala,” he says, “I should have made some declarations.” He pauses, studying me. “I regret that I didn’t, because now I worry that I’m too late.”
“You’re not too late,” I say softly.
“I love you, Tessa,” he says, and I inhale sharply, because I wasn’t ready for him to come right out with it.
He touches a finger to my lips. “Let me finish.” I nod.
“I have always loved you,” he says. “I love your brilliance and your courage. I love your faith in me, and your faith in my brother, and your faith in Kandala.” His hand slides to my cheek, and his blue eyes soften, filling my vision. “I don’t ever want to frighten you. I want to take actions that will make you proud.” His jaw clenches, just for a moment. “But I will never be wholly altruistic. Even now, I want to go back on deck and make him regret even insinuating that he would use you against me—”
“Corrick.”
“He can want to do what’s right for Ostriary, Tessa— while also knowing that earning your trust is a way to manipulate me.”
I clamp my mouth shut. I hate that all of this feels so calculated.
“I need you to realize that your life is bigger than you think,” Corrick says. “I need you to realize that you are important to me, and to my brother, and to all of Kandala. Do you think just anyone could have snuck into the palace and convinced Harristan to try a new dosage? Tessa, when those men took us prisoner, I spent much of that walk thinking of every terrible thing I could do to them, just for causing you pain, because I know how much you’ve risked. How much you’ve wanted for the people of Kandala. Sometimes I look at Lochlan, and I remember, and I want to
—”
My breath catches, my heart thumping in my chest, and he breaks off.
“Well.” Corrick raises a rueful eyebrow. “My point is that I did none of it. You found a way to forgive them, and
so I found a way to forgive them.” He pauses, and his voice grows grave. “You said I see everyone as an adversary. But since the moment my parents died, that’s all I’ve had. Adversaries. I’ve had to fight to hold Kandala together. I’ve had to fight to keep my brother safe. And now, if I have to, I’ll fight to hold on to you.”
I swallow and lift a hand to cover his, holding his bandaged palm to my cheek.
He brushes a thumb along my cheekbone. “If you’d allow me, I would say all that and more once we return to the Royal Sector. I would officially declare our courtship before the king. But only if you want the same, Tessa.”
His eyes are so honest, dark blue in the dim candlelight. This reminds me of the moment we kissed in the workshop, the first time I saw him as Wes and Corrick all rolled into one man. It reminds me of the way I was sitting on the deck, and he brought me food, even though we were at odds. It reminds me of our first carriage ride together, when I was terrified of him, and he offered me a pouch full of silver and a dagger from his belt, and he told me how to find freedom.
Impulsively, I reach forward and put my arms around his neck again.
This time he catches me for real, his hands secure against my back. He smells so warm, so familiar. I press my face into his neck.
I missed you, I think. Because I did.
I blink, and the world goes blurry. Tears sit on my lashes.
Corrick must feel the shift in my emotions, because he draws back. He tsks under his breath, then touches a thumb to my cheek, brushing a tear away.
“Do you still hate me?” he says softly.
“No,” I whisper, like it’s a secret. “I love you.”
He leans closer. “What’s that?” he teases. “I can’t hear you.”
“I said you’re a huge pain in my—”
I break off with a squeal when he kisses me, then melt into his hands when he pulls me close.
“Will you stay here with me?” he says quietly, and I freeze. Before I can say anything else, he adds, “Things are so precarious with Captain Blakemore. If something were to happen, I don’t want the guards to have to split their attention.”
The room is so quiet, and so warm, and the boat rocks beneath us. He might be right to worry, and he might not.
But tonight, we’re alone, darkness pressing against the window.
Tonight, like before, it’s the two of us against the night. “Will you?” he says, his thumb stroking over my lip.
I stare into his blue eyes and nod. “Yes.”
