I’m alone in the workshop for what feels like an hour, but is probably less than half. It’s not until Quint and Thorin are gone that I wonder if I should have had them wait until Saeth returned.
I’m not sure what good that would’ve done, though. Right now, time is our enemy. I’m terrified the night patrol will come crashing through the woods at any moment, waiting to drag me back to face whoever is willing to stand against me.
Or worse, waiting to execute me right here.
I limp to the horses, who’ve calmed somewhat, sweat dried into streaks along their flanks. They’re narrow driving horses, bred for harness instead of saddle, and I spare a moment to worry the animals aren’t broke for riding at all. I suppose I’ll find out in a moment. The bay gelding seems less flighty, so I adjust the bridle to remove the blinders, then use the dagger to cut the reins to riding length, knotting them together. I’m left with several feet of leather, which I loop into a breastplate of sorts, tying it in place at the horse’s withers. Bareback, it’ll give me something to grip if I need it.
A branch breaks somewhere in the woods, and I freeze.
I wait an eternal moment, but nothing follows.
If the night patrol is close, I don’t want Saeth to have to waste time prepping the other animal. I make quick work of the other bridle, then fashion another workable breastplate.
My leg aches something fierce.
I think of Corrick and my chest tightens.
That ship is a farce, Arella said. It’ll never reach Ostriary.
Does she know? Or was she playing to the crowd?
There’s no way to be sure.
I take a slow breath and force my thoughts into order. I can’t help my brother if I’m dead. I need to get on this horse so I’m not trapped.
I grit my teeth. I haven’t made a bareback mount in years. I grab hold of the reins and the straps of leather, then stride forward to swing aboard.
The horse shies sideways. My injured leg gives out. I end up in the underbrush.
I swear with words I’d never use in the palace.
My second attempt ends the same way. Maybe I should just start walking.
My third attempt gets me on the animal’s back. I’m so relieved about that that I nearly forget everything else I know about riding. The gelding has clearly had enough of this nonsense, because he jerks his head down, rounding his back to buck. I grab hold of the reins and get his head up. He sidesteps, pawing at the underbrush.
“Easy,” I say, a bit breathless, hooking a hand under the strap in case I need it. His tail swishes, but he stands, chewing the bit in irritation.
“This is no treat for me either,” I say, but I stroke a hand along the crest of his neck, and the horse sighs.
Another branch snaps, and I take up the reins again. Both horses whip their heads up this time, ears pricked. I nudge my heels into the gelding’s ribs, ready to gallop—or fall—but Saeth appears between the trees, and I let out a sigh of relief. He looks startled to find me on a horse, but I don’t wait for questions.
“I sent the others into Artis,” I say. “We should follow.
Did you find food?” “Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Good. You can’t call me that now, Saeth.”
He inhales, looking confounded for a moment, probably because he can’t really call me Harristan either. When I was a boy, sneaking into the Wilds with Corrick, I used the name Sullivan, and I almost give it to Saeth. But my tongue stalls. For some reason, just now, that feels … special. A name to be shared between my brother and me.
Cory. Please be well. My chest threatens to tighten, and I shake off the sentimentality. I turn my thoughts to the present.
I think of Violet. I think of Maxon.
“Call me Fox,” I say. I nod at the chestnut. “Mount up.
We need to move.”
 |
Saeth was able to find strips of dried beef that have been rolled in cinnamon and nutmeg, along with two peaches that are only a little bruised. I haven’t eaten anything since the nut bread that Maxon prepared, so I want to inhale it all, but I offer half to Saeth.
He looks surprised by that, a frown line appearing between his eyebrows. “No. Thank you.”
I hold out a peach and two strips of beef anyway. No matter how hungry I am, I can’t afford weak guards. “Eat,”
I say. “We don’t know when we’ll be able to find more.”
He obeys. We ride slowly and stay off main paths, crossing creeks and doubling back time and again so our tracks can’t be followed. My trousers are still tacky with blood, especially since I reopened the wound trying to get on the horse. I wouldn’t be recognized as the king, but an injury like this would definitely draw attention.
It’s the guard at my side that’s more worrisome, especially if rumor spreads that the king was traveling with two palace guards. In the dark, it might not be a concern, but in the bright light of day, Saeth is just too conspicuous. He left most of his livery at the workshop, but his trousers are the rich blue of his uniform, his polished black boots gleaming in the sunlight. Each weapon bears gold filigree, right down to the hilt of his daggers and the buckle of his belt.
I consider Quint, in his palace finery, and Thorin, who’d be attired similarly to Saeth. Maybe they didn’t make it very far at all. Worry begins to crowd into my thoughts, and I force it away.
As we get closer to Artis, we begin to see people through the trees, families and workers going about their business.
“Stick to the shadows,” I say. “Yes, Your—”
I give Saeth a sharp look, and he breaks off, then gives me a nod. “Yes, Fox.”
Eventually, we near an area where the Wilds begins to give way to the sprawling main city of Artis. The bulk of the sector is on the other side of the Queen’s River, but there are enough people here to form a bustling city. Men and women come and go along the wall, children in tow, squalling infants strapped to the chests of women who are burdened with parcels or sacks. Larger carriages and
wagons rattle along the road, too, and I carefully watch for any vehicles that might originate from the Royal Sector, but so far I haven’t seen anyone.
After a while, distant hoofbeats pound the earth, and we pull farther into the dim light of the woods. A horn sounds, and people begin to clear the road.
I know those horns. The palace guard. Anyone in that contingent would recognize us.
I draw my horse to a halt and exchange a glance with Saeth. I’m split with indecision, whether I should dismount and attempt to stay out of sight behind the animal, or if I should stay right here with the means to run if I need it.
The horse tugs at the reins and paws at the ground, sidestepping agitatedly. “Shh,” I murmur, keeping my eyes on the road.
I don’t need to worry. A dozen guards gallop through without stopping.
I look at Saeth. “Did you recognize any of them?”
He nods. “Some of the outer guards. I didn’t see the mark of your personal guard on any of them.” He hesitates, then looks at me. “By now, Captain Huxley will know Thorin and I are with you. It’s possible they’ve restricted the rest of your personal guard to the palace—if not the Hold.”
I frown. I hadn’t considered that.
Saeth adds, “It’s also possible that Thorin and Master Quint have been captured, and those guards were summoned to bring them to the palace.”
I hadn’t considered that either. “Advise,” I say.
He takes a moment to consider, looking from the road to the town ahead, then back to me and my injured leg. “We could try following them—”
“Following them!”
“Yes. No one would expect the king to be following someone seeking him. Not out in the open.” He glances at my leg again, then back at my face, which surely still bears streaks of blood. “No one knows you’re injured either. If you could manage a faster pace, it wouldn’t give anyone much time to see the state of your injuries anyway.”
Or his weapons. “And what do we do once we’re in Artis?”
“If Master Quint was heading for an apothecary shop, it would most likely be near the town square. The guards would have no reason to hide. If that was their destination, we’d see them in plenty of time to double back into the Wilds.”
I don’t waste time considering. “Let’s go.”
|
It’s a warm day, the sun beating down as soon as we step out from under the cover of the trees. The horses are eager to canter, but the gelding’s lumbering gait gives me a jolt with every stride, made worse once we reach the cobblestone streets of Artis. My head will never stop aching at this rate, and my leg has turned into a stretch of pain from my waist down to my knee. I refuse to slow, because stopping feels like a guarantee of discovery.
Even still, I’ve begun to sweat through my clothes when we reach the main road leading into the town square. My breathing has grown thin and reedy, and I do my best to ignore it.
No sign of guards. But they must be around somewhere.
I don’t spend much time outside the Royal Sector, so I don’t quite have my bearings, but Saeth calls for a stop near the end of a row of buildings. I’m glad. One of my hands is hooked in the makeshift breastplate, and I have no
idea how long that’s been the case. My grip feels like the only thing holding me upright.
Saeth casts a glance around, but when his gaze settles on me, he does a double take. “Your M—Fox. You should not continue.”
I must look worse than I feel. “I can,” I say, and my voice is breathy and quiet, contradicting my words. “Proceed. Are we close?”
He looks around again, reassessing. He nods down the narrow alley between buildings. “If you take the horses down the back to wait in the shade, I’ll go on foot to see if I can find what became of Master Quint and Thorin.”
Sweat drips into my eyes, but I nod. He slips to the ground and hands me the reins, then hesitates. “I shouldn’t leave you.”
“You can’t drag me down the street,” I say, wheezing. “The alley is empty. Go.”
He goes.
The alley is cool and dark, and I draw the horses to a stop under a stretch of awnings. The horses find a rain barrel before I do, plunging their muzzles into the water with abandon.
I’m so thirsty that I’m off the gelding’s back before I have time to consider whether this is a bad idea, but then I’m cupping water in my own hands right alongside the horses.
When I try to get back on the gelding, he lashes his tail and snakes his neck at me, sidestepping away. I’m limping heavily anyway, and I have no desire to fall on the cobblestones.
From the end of the alley, someone yells, and my heart kicks. The chestnut horse spooks, and both animals go trotting down the alley. I’m frozen against the wall, half- hidden by the rain barrel.
But no one comes down this way.
I can’t chase the horses, so I don’t try. I slide along the wall until I’m sitting, my injured leg stretched out in front of me.
Once again, I’m stuck and injured, debating what would be better: to sit here and wait for my fate, or to risk trying to escape.
I can hear every breath that fights its way into my lungs. Against my will, my eyes fall closed. The sweat was stinging anyway. Maybe this is all fruitless and I’ll die in this dirty alley.
The crown is yours, Corrick.
But my brother isn’t here.
A memory flickers in my thoughts, vivid like a dream. I was young, sick with fever, and my nurse had left my bedside. I was nine or ten. Maybe younger. Something cool touched my forehead, then my cheek. I opened my eyes to find my brother there, patting my face with the wet compress.
“Am I doing it right?” he whispered, just before squeezing a stream of water right into my eyes.
The memory is so potent that I can almost feel the cool water. “You’re doing just fine, Cory,” I murmur.
“He’s coming around,” a man says quietly, relief in his tone.
I inhale sharply, then cough. My eyes snap open.
Quint is on one knee in front of me, a wet handkerchief in his hand. Thorin and Saeth are behind him.
Beside them is Karri, Tessa’s friend. Her fingers twist together, and she’s biting at her lip. Her eyes are wide and alarmed.
I fight to get my good leg under me, then rise to my feet. My fingers clutch at the edge of the wall. I should offer her something for her assistance. She should not have to face
her king like this, broken and bleeding and half-conscious in a dirty alley in the back streets of Artis.
But my head aches and my leg hurts and my brother is gone … and I have simply run out of options.
“I know there is a bounty on my head,” I say roughly. “I know it would be easier to turn me in.” She says nothing. Her fingers keep twisting together. I cough again, then press on. “It is very likely that you will not think I deserve it,” I say. “But, Karri, I am prepared to beg for your help.”
She hears those words and regards me, then glances between my guards, and then to Quint.
Finally, her eyes shift back to me. Her voice is soft, yet strong. “Did you send Lochlan away on that ship so Prince Corrick could kill him?”
“No,” I say. “I swear it. It truly was meant as a measure of goodwill.”
Her eyes hold mine, and there’s a coolness there.
Fine. I take a long breath. “And … also a bit of insurance, so he wouldn’t lead another rebellion while Corrick was away. It was a measure of protection for the kingdom. For everyone. Not just the elites.”
She glances at the guards again, then back at Quint. “I believe you.” Her fingers untwist, and she squares her shoulders. “And you don’t need to beg me for help. Can you walk? That looks like it needs stitching.” Her eyes shift to Thorin. “I live two blocks west of here. You’ll have to help him. But I patch people up all the time. No one should think twice about it.” She hesitates. “You’ll have to stick to the alley. The palace guard have been searching the shops.”
I nod, then grit my teeth. Relief is a powerful motivator. So is fear. I know that better than anyone, but I’ve never been on this side of it. “Lead the way.”
|
Karri has a small apartment to herself above a cobbler and a butcher. There are only two rooms, but she has running water and a wood-burning stove, items that are clearly a point of pride, because she mentions them as Thorin helps me through the doorway—then blushes sheepishly and says, “Well. It’s not very fine by your standards, I’m sure. But it was all I could afford on my own.”
She’s agreed to help me. It’s better than a palace. “I’m grateful for your kindness,” I say.
Thorin takes a spot by the door, and Saeth moves to the front window, where he pulls the curtain to the side. “Can I get to the roof from here?” he says. “I don’t want to keep watch from the street.”
Karri’s eyes flare in surprise, but she nods. “There’s a ladder from the window at the back of the bedroom.” She looks at me, then glances at my leg. “I’ll fetch my supplies, if you want to sit by the washbasin.” Her brown cheeks redden further. “We’ll have to remove that bandage. And I
… ah, I’m going to need you to remove your trousers, Your Majesty.”
As if this is the worst thing to happen to me today. I’ve reached a point where I no longer care. “Fine.”
Quint helps me to a low chair, but I manage to work my way out of the trousers while Karri gathers her things. When she returns, I’m worried she might be too intimidated, but once she has her equipment in hand, she’s more businesslike. The wound is crusted with dirt and sweat and several rounds of dried blood, but she soaks a rag and gently washes it clean.
It still stings, and I clench my teeth.
She glances up. “I’ll stitch it, but I should dress it with an ointment first. There’s a lot of dirt. It’ll get infected.”
I nod. “Whatever you think is best.” She winces. “It’ll hurt.”
“It already hurts, Karri.”
“I know.” She reaches up, touching my jaw before she catches herself. She grimaces. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty. Your ear likely needs stitching as well.”
“Again, whatever you think is best.”
She meets my eyes, then glances away and nods.
The room is very quiet as she fetches a few bottles of herbs, then mixes them with a fragrant cream. She takes a spoon and slathers it onto the wound with no warning at all, and I cry out, gripping tight to the chair.
Thorin appears beside us, but Quint puts up a hand to stop him. The guard waits for my order. I shake my head, gritting my teeth. “It’s fine,” I grate out.
Karri threads a needle. “May I ask how this happened?”
I huff a breath, because my thoughts are still fixated on the fiery pain from the ointment. “I was shot by the night patrol.”
Her eyes meet mine. “Really?”
I nod, then swallow. “They didn’t know I was the king.” I pause. “I heard there was a meeting in the Wilds. I hoped to see who was working against me.”
Her eyes skip down to my attire. “So because Prince Corrick was unavailable, you slipped into the Wilds yourself.”
“More or less.”
She puts the needle against my skin, and I brace myself, but she doesn’t move further. “Do you want something to bite on?”
I have no idea. “I’m fine.”
She gives me a look, then utters a little humorless laugh. “The two of you must have a will of steel.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“Prince Corrick pretended to be asleep when Tessa was stitching his face closed.” Then she pushes the needle
through my skin, and I give a jolt. It takes everything I have not to cry out again. Hearing that my brother did this while feigning sleep is enough to keep me silent. Both my hands clamp down on whatever is close.
Karri makes a loop with the thread, then slides the needle through for another pass. I hold my breath and grip tighter with my hand.
I look down at the length of the injury. This is going to take an hour. A day. A year. A lifetime. Sweat gathers in the small of my back, and I have to choke back a sound.
“You said the soldiers were searching the shops,” Quint says, his voice calm at my side, as if I’m not a breath away from keening like a wounded animal. “Were they searching for the king?”
“And you,” she says, her eyes flicking up for half a second. “Mistress Solomon—she owns the apothecary shop
—she told me that the delivery boy said the king was guilty of poisoning the people.”
“With the new medicine dosage?” I say. “Karri, I swear to you—” I hiss a breath as the needle goes through my skin again. My fingers clench tighter. “There’s no poison. Tessa came up with the new elixir on her—”
“I know,” Karri says, frowning. “That’s what I told Mistress Solomon. But she said I was a fool, and she’s obviously talking about the poison that causes the fevers.”
I have to repeat that in my head because it doesn’t make sense. “What?”
“They’re claiming that you’ve been poisoning the people to cause the fevers.”
“How would the king poison all of Kandala?” says Quint. “I don’t know.” She glances up. “But that’s what she
said.” The needle slides through my skin again.
“Huxley told the people I was tricking them,” I say to Quint. “Just before they fled.” Another bite from the needle,
and I force the words out. “Arella said she had proof.”
“None she’s shared with me,” he says. “But Arella and Roydan have been meeting privately for weeks.” He frowns and shakes his head. “To be honest, I have a hard time believing Consul Pelham would be involved in this.”
That’s true. The man is nearly eighty years old, and of all the consuls, he’s always been fond of me and Corrick. He’s the last one I would ever assume to be staging a coup against me.
But I saw Arella with my own eyes. I heard every word with my own ears.
“Done,” Karri announces, and I look down. A dozen stitches hold my thigh together, but the wound is clean. I feel a little dazed, and I begin to unclench my fingers.
Only to realize I’ve been gripping Quint’s hand.
I let go at once, then run a damp hand across my face. “Forgive me, Quint.”
Karri glances between us, then wets a new cloth and reaches for my face. “I’m assuming you’ll need fresh clothes. Lochlan stays here sometimes, so I have a few of his things. There’s a shaving kit in the washroom.” She hesitates. “If you like. Your Majesty.”
“Thank you, Karri.”
She cleans the blood from my face with care, and she’s gentler than Quint was. “Are you hungry?”
“No.”
“Well, I’m sure that’ll change by midday. I’m not sure I have enough to feed all four of you for long, though.” She hesitates. “May I ask what your intentions are?”
I’ve hardly been able to think past this moment, but that’s not a suitable answer. “We’ll hide here for the time being,” I say. “It’s not safe to be on the streets if the palace guard is searching for me. But I can’t stay hidden for too long. Once rumor spreads, my absence will build an
implication of guilt. I can’t allow Captain Huxley and Consul Cherry to control the narrative.”
I wish I knew what proof they claimed to have.
Karri shifts closer, putting her hand against my jaw to hold me in place. She’s so close that the warmth of her breath touches my skin, and she smells like apples and honey. This should feel awkward, but she’s so clinical that it’s not. If anything, it reminds me of my childhood, when physicians and nurses would poke and prod as if I were a stuffed doll for their study.
“If you reveal yourself,” she says, “how will you keep them from capturing you?”
“I’m not sure,” I admit. “How did the Benefactors get the people to organize so quickly?”
“They promised money and medicine.” She swipes with the rag. “Do you know how many people in the palace are working against you?”
“A lot, if they have control of the palace guard,” I say. “Which means they control the night patrol. They might not have been able to spread word of my guilt very far yet—but it won’t take long. When night falls, I may have Saeth and Thorin try to contact others, but it may not be worth the risk. I don’t want to lose them, too.”
“If the medicine isn’t faulty,” she says, “then why are they doing this?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “But I suspect Allisander is trying to force things back to the status quo. He never wanted to provide more medicine.”
“So he can keep charging exorbitant prices that only the elites can afford.”
“Yes.”
“So more people will die.”
“Yes. It’s very likely the reason they chose to act now. If Corrick returns with a supply of Moonflower, we won’t
need Allisander.”
That ship is a farce. It’ll never reach Ostriary.
I force Arella’s words out of my mind. There’s no way they could know.
Unless they sent ships to follow.
The thought nearly steals my breath. There aren’t many who could afford to do it, but Laurel’s father is one of Allisander’s richest landowners.
And there’s nothing I could do about it.
“I need a way to reclaim the palace,” I say. “But I’m not entirely sure how to do that if the consuls have turned the guards and soldiers against me.”
“If I may,” Quint says, “I don’t believe they have all of them. Right now, they may be following orders simply because you aren’t there to contradict them.”
“You heard the guards at the gate,” I say. “They have
enough of them.”
“I think your ear will manage without stitching,” Karri says. “But I’ll add some ointment.”
“I can’t trust the elites,” I say, “and I’m worried the people would turn me in just to claim the reward.”
Karri snorts and dabs some medicine onto her finger. “Forgive me, Your Majesty. But you think the people are going to trust Consul Sallister?”
“Well.” I hesitate. “Maybe?”
“I think you might be surprised. You’re taking up space in my kitchen.”
“If I survive this, I’ll ensure you’re rewarded, Karri.”
She smiles, but it flickers with sadness. “I’m not helping you for a reward. I’m doing it because it’s the right thing to do.” She pauses. “It’s the same reason Lochlan was helping the rebels. We didn’t want silver, Your Majesty. We wanted medicine.”
“I know,” I say. “I swear to you. I know.”
She sits back. “I know you do. Even when Prince Corrick was terrifying, I could tell that you wanted to help the people. I could hear it in your voice when we held the Circle.”
When they tried to take over the Royal Sector. The night they almost succeeded.
“Violet knew it, too,” says Quint. “As I said, she sang all night.”
I laugh without humor. “It’s a shame Violet doesn’t have an army.”
“Who’s Violet?” says Karri.
“A girl,” I say. “She offered me shelter after I was shot, then risked herself to find Master Quint.”
Karri’s eyes go wide. “Did she know you were the king?” “In the end I had to tell her. But before then, she called
me Fox, because I would—”
“Wait.” Karri drops her rag. “That was you?” she demands. “You were Fox? Did Tessa know?”
“No,” I say quietly. “Not even Corrick knew.”
She blows a breath out through her teeth. “So all that time we were bickering around the table, you were secretly going out and giving people silver.”
I hesitate, then nod.
“Well,” she says. “I’ll see if I can gather the people in the commons tonight. You’ll have to hide here for the time being.” She glances at the window. “I’ll need to get back soon, or Mistress Solomon will grow suspicious.” Karri stands and begins arranging her things.
“Wait,” I say. “Gather the people for what?”
She stops and looks at me. “To take the Royal Sector again.” She smiles, and a dark light glints in her eyes. “Your Majesty, Violet might not have an army, but don’t you remember? Lochlan does.”
