Iโve been listening to my brotherโs breathing for hours.ย ๎ขereโs a new sound each time he inhales, a faint stuttering in his lungs. In the Wilds, they call it the death rattle, because it means the end is near.
Here in his chambers, Iโm unwilling to use the wordย deathย at all. Iโm unwilling to even think it.
He doesnโt have a fever.ย ๎ขereโs no cause to worry. I canโt even convince myself.
Sunlight blazes through the open window, and birds trill in the trees. Harristan shouldnโt be sleeping this late, but I hate to wake him. To everyone outside the doors to his rooms, weโve been deliberating over paperwork all morning. Iโve called for food twice, enough to feed a dozen people, but most of it sits untouched. Flies have begun gathering on the sliced fruit, and a bee drones over the pastries.
Harristan coughs faintly, and his breathing eases. Maybe thatโs all it was, a tickle in his throat. A tightness in my own chest loosens, and I run a hand across the back of my neck,ย nding it damp.
A faint breeze nudges at my papers with enough insistence that I tuck most of them under the weight of the lamp before they can scatter across the desk. One of us has to work. Iโve been making notes along the margins of a funding request from one of the eastern cities, looking for omissions and inaccuracies in their statement demonstrating the need for a new bridge. I expected to get through only a few pages before Harristan would wake up, but now Iโve gone through the entire report and it must be nearly midday.
I tug my pocket watch free and glance at the glittering diamonds embedded in its face. Itย isย midday. If he doesnโt appear at the meeting of the sector consuls, there will be talk. I can only silence so much.
As if my thoughts wake him, my brother stirs, blinking in the sunlight. He frowns at me and sits up, shirtless, then runs a hand down his face. โItโs late. Why didnโt you wake me?โ
I listen to his voice carefully, but thereโs no roughness to his tone, no sign of any di๏ฌculty breathing. Maybe I imagined it. โI was just about to.โ I move to the sideboard and li๎ย the kettle. โ๎ขe tea has gone cold.โ I pour a cup anyway and carry it to him, along with a thin corked tube of Moonย ower elixir thatโs darker than usual.ย ๎ขe palace apothecary doubled his dosage last week when the coughing started again, so maybe the medicine is beginning to work.
Harristan uncorks the tube, drinks it, and makes a face. โ๎ขere, there,โ I say without a lick of sympathy.
He grins.ย ๎ขatโs something he only does when weโre alone. Neither of us smiles outside these rooms very o๎en. โWhat have you been doing all morning?โ
โI went through the request from Artis. Iโve dra๎ed a refusal for you to sign.โ
His expression turns serious. โA refusal?โ
โ๎ขeyโre asking for twice what a new bridge would cost.ย ๎ขey hid it well, but someone got greedy.โ
โYou hardly need me anymore.โ
๎ขe words are said lightly, but they hit me like an arrow. Kandala needs its king. I need my brother.
I lock away my worries and fold my arms. โYou need to dressโand shave. Iโll call for Geo๏ฌrey. Iโve said we were too busy for you to bother earlier. Quint has requested an audience with you twice, but he will need to wait until a๎er the evening meal, unlessโโ
โCory.โ His voice is so๎, and I go still. He only ever calls me Cory when weโre alone, one of the few reminders of childhood we have le๎. A nickname from when I was small and eager and trailing a๎er him everywhere he went. A name that was once spoken in gentle fondness by our mother or encouraging praise by our father, back when we believed our family was beloved by all. Back before anyone knew about the fever, or the Moonย ower, or the way our country would change in ways no one expected.
Back when everyone expected Harristan to have decades before heโd take the throne, that heโd rule withย rm kindness and thoughtful care for his
people, just as our parents did.
But four years ago, they were assassinated right in front of us. Shot through the throat in the throne room.ย ๎ขe arrows pinned them upright, their heads hanging cockeyed, their eyes wide and glassy as they choked on their own blood.ย ๎ขe image still haunts my dreams sometimes.
Harristan was nineteen. I wasย ๎een. He took an arrow in the shoulder when he dove to cover me.
It should have been the other way around.
I stare back into his blue eyes and look for any sign of sickness.ย ๎ขere is none. โWhat?โ
โ๎ขe medicine is working again.โ His voice is quiet. โYou donโt need to play nursemaid.โ
My smile feels a little wicked. โCruel Cory playing nursemaid? Never.โ He rolls his eyes. โNo one calls you Cruel Cory.โ
โNot to my face.โ No, to my face, Iโm Your Highness, or Prince Corrick, or sometimes, when theyโre being especially formal, the Kingโs Justice.
Behind my back, Iโm called worse. Much worse. So is Harristan.
We donโt mind. Our parents were lovedโand they were loving in return.
It led to betrayal and death.
Fear works better.
I move to the closet and pull out a laced shirt to toss at my brother. โYou donโt want a nursemaid?ย ๎ขen stop lazing around.ย ๎ขereโs a country to run.โ
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๎ขe midday meal is already arranged on the sideboard when we enter. Roasted pheasant drips with honey and berries, nestled among a dense bed of greens and root vegetables. A few feathers have been artfully placed along the gilded edge of each platter, held in place by a glistening drop of crystalized honey.ย ๎ขough the stewards stand in silence along the wall, waiting to serve, the eight other Royal Consuls are engaged in lively conversation by the window. Iโm the ninth, but I have no interest in lively conversation.
๎ขere used to be ten, but Consul Barnard led the plot to have my parents killed. He would have killed us, too. A๎er Harristan saved my life, I saw Barnard coming a๎er him with a dagger.
My brother was on top of me, his breath panicked and full of pain in my ear. I pulled that arrow out of Harristanโs shoulder and stabbed it right into Barnardโs neck.
I blink the memory away.ย ๎ขe consuls fall silent when we enter the room, each o๏ฌering a short bow to my brother before moving to their chairs, though no one will sit until Harristan does, and no one will eat until we both have taken a bite.
๎ขe table is shaped like a rectangle at one end, narrowing to a point at the other, like the head of an arrow. Harristan eases into his chair at the head of the table, and I ease into mine, directly to his right.ย ๎ขe eight consuls ease into theirs, leaving one seat empty. Itโs the one directly beside me, where Consul Barnard used to sit.ย ๎ขe Traderโs Landing sector has no new consul, and Harristan is in no rush to appoint one. In whispers, the people o๎en call it Traitorโs Landing, a๎er what Barnard did, but no one says it in front of us. No one wants to remind the king or his brother of what happened.
๎ขey respect my brotherโas they should.
๎ขey fear me.
I donโt mind. It spares me some tedious conversations.
Weโve known everyone in this room for our entire lives, but weโve long since doused any comfort born of familiarity. We saw what complacence and trust did to our parents, and we know what it could do to us. When Harristan was nineteen, blood still seeping through a bandage on his shoulder, he ran hisย rst meeting in this room. We were both numb with grief and shock, but I followed him to take a place standing by his shoulder. I remember thinking the consuls would be sympathetic and compassionate following the deaths of our parents. I remember thinking we would all grieve together.
But we were barely in the room for a full minute before Consulย ๎ขeadosia snidely commented that a child had no place attending a meeting of the Kingโs Council. She was talking about meโbut her tone implied she was talking about Harristan, too.
โ๎ขis child,โ said Harristan, โis my brother, your prince.โ His voice was like thunder. Iโd never heard my brotherโs voice like that. It gave me the strength to stand when I so badly wanted to hide under my bed and pretend my world hadnโt been turned upside down.
โCorrick saved my life,โ said Harristan. โ๎ขe life of your new king. He risked himself when none of you were willing to do the same, including you,
๎ขeadosia. I have named him Kingโs Justice, and he will attend any meeting he so pleases.โ
I went very still at those words.ย ๎ขe Kingโs Justice was the highest-ranking adviser to the king.ย ๎ขe highest position beside Harristan himself. Our father once said that he was allowed to stay in the peopleโs good graces because the Kingโs Justice handled anything . . . unsavory.
Another consul at the time, a man named Talec, coughed to cover a laugh and said, โCorrick will be the Kingโs Justice? Atย ๎een?โ
โWas I unclear?โ said Harristan.
โExactly what justice will he mete out? No dinner? No playtime for Kandalaโs criminals?โ
โWe must be strong,โ saidย ๎ขeadosia, her voice full of scorn. โYou dishonor your parents.ย ๎ขis is no time for Kandalaโs rulers to be a source of mockery.โ
You dishonor your parents.ย ๎ขe words turned my insides to ice. Our parents were killed because the council failed to uncover a traitor.
โHe looks like heโs ready toย cry,โ said Talec, โand you expect to hold your throne with him at your side?โ
Iย wasย ready to cry. But a๎er their statements, I was terriย ed to show one singleย icker of weakness. My parents were killed by someone they trusted, and we couldnโt allow the same to happen to us.
โNo dinner and no playtime,โ I said, and because Harristan sounded so unyielding, I forced my voice to be the same. I felt like I was playing a role for which Iโd had no time to rehearse. โYou will spend thirty days in the harvestย elds. You are to fast from midday until the next morning.โ
๎ขere was absolute silence for a moment, and thenย ๎ขeadosia and Talec exploded out of their seats. โ๎ขis is preposterous!โ they cried. โYou canโt assign us to work in theย elds with the laborers.โ
โYou asked for a demonstration of my justice,โ I said. โBe sure to work quickly. I have heard the foremen carry whips.โ
Talecโs eyes were likeย re. โYouโre both children. Youโll never hold this throne.โ
โGuards,โ I saidย atly.
I remember worrying that the guards would not obey, that the council would overthrow us both.ย ๎ขat weย wouldย dishonor our parents. A๎er what Barnard had done, every face seemed to hide a secret motive that would lead to our deaths.
But then the guards stepped forward and took hold of Talec and
๎ขeadosia.ย ๎ขe doors swung closed behind them, leaving the room in absolute silence. Every pair of eyes around the table sat wide and staring at my brother.
Harristan gestured at the seat to his rightโthe seat just vacated by Talec. โPrince Corrick. Take a seat.โ
I did. No one else dared to say a word.
Harristan has held on to his throne for four years.
Weโre later than usual today, and the food is likely going cool, but heโs in no rush to eat. When my father ran meetings, there was a sense of jovial ease around this table, but thatโs always been lacking during Harristanโs reign.
He glances at me. โYou have the response for Artis?โ
I place a leather folio on the table before him, along with a fountain pen. He makes a show of reviewing the document, though heโd probably sign a letter authorizing his own execution if I placed it in front of him. Harristan has little patience for lengthy legal documents. Heโs all about grand plans and the broad view. Iโm the one who dwells in details.
He signs with a littleย ourish, lays the pen to the side, and shoves the folio down the table to Jonas Beeching, an older man with a girth as round as he is tall. I guarantee heโs dying to eat, but he eagerlyย ips open the cover. Heโs expecting a positive response, I can tell. Heโs practically salivating at the idea of bringing chests full of gold back to Artis this a๎ernoon.
His face falls when he reads the refusal I dra๎ed. โYour Majesty,โ he says carefully to Harristan. โ๎ขis bridge would reduce the travel time from Artis to the Royal Sector by three days.โ
โIt should also cost half as much,โ I say.
โButโbut my engineers have spent months on this proposal.โ He glances around the table, then back at us. โSurely you could not make a determination in less than a dayโโ
โYour engineers are wrong,โ I say.
โPerhaps we can come to some sort of compromise.ย ๎ขereโthere must be an error in calculationโโ
โDo you seek a compromise, or do you suspect an error?โ says Harristan. โIโโ Jonasโs mouth hangs open. He hesitates, and his voice turns rough.
โBoth, Your Majesty.โ He pauses. โArtis has lost many lives to the fever.โ
At the mention of the fever, I want to look at Harristan. I want to reassure myself that heโsย ne.ย ๎ขat the rattle in his breathing this morning was all in my imagination.
I steel my will and keep my eyes on Jonas. โArtis receives a ration of Moonย ower petals, just like the other sectors. If your people need more, they will need to buy it just like anyone else.โ
โI know. I know.โ Jonas clears his throat. โIt seems the warm weather is causing the fever to spread more quickly among the dockworkers. We are having di๏ฌculty keeping ships loaded and sta๏ฌed.ย ๎ขis bridge would reduce our reliance on the waterways and allow us to rebuild some of the trade that has been lost.โ
โ๎ขen you should have asked for an appropriate amount of gold,โ I say. โArtis canโt build a bridge without healthy workers,โ says Arella Cherry,
who sits at the opposite end of the table. She took over for her father when he retired last year. Sheโs from Sunkeep, a sector far in the south thatโs bordered by the Flaming River on the west and the ocean to the south and east. Her people fare the best from the fevers, and itโs thought that Sunkeepโs high heat and humidity make them less susceptibleโbut the heat is so oppressive that their population is by far the smallest of any of Kandalaโs sectors. Sheโs so๎-spoken, with rich russet-brown skin and waist-length black hair that she keeps twisted into a looping knot at the back of her head. โMedicine should factor into their proposal.โ
โEvery city needs healthy workers for all projects,โ says Harristan. โWhich is why each city receives a ration of medicine for their people. Including yours, Arella.โ
โYes, Your Majesty,โ she says. โAnd my people fare well because of it.โ She pauses. โBut my people are not attempting to construct a bridge across the Queenโs River in the dead heat of summer.โ
Her voice is quiet and deferential, but thereโs a core of steel beneath her gentle voice and so๎ย hands. If she had her way, Harristan would seize Allisanderโs lands along with everyone elseโs, and heโd distribute Moonย ower petals with abandon. Weโd also be thrust into a full-on civil war when the other consuls refused to yield their territories, but sheโs never keen to
acknowledge that side of things.ย ๎ขat said, sheโs one of the few people at this table I enjoy a bit of conversation with.
Unfortunately, the last woman who weaseled her way into my thoughts also tried to poison me and Harristan at dinner. It wasnโt theย rstย assassination attempt, but it was deย nitely the closest anyone has gotten since our parents were killed.
So romance is o๏ฌย the table for me.
Allisander Sallister clears his throat. He sits almost directly opposite me, and his face is pale, with pink spots over his cheeks that look painted on. His hair and brows are both thick and brown, and he wears a goatee that heโs clearly enamored of, but I think looks ridiculous. Heโs only a year younger than Harristan, and they were friends when they were boys. My brother had few companions when we were children, but Allisander was one of the few who had the patience to sit in the library and move chess pieces around a board or listen to tutors read from books of poetry.
But then, when they were teens, Allisanderโs father, Nathaniel Sallister, requested additional lands from a neighboring sector, claiming his farmlands yielded better cropsโand would therefore yield better proย ts, and greater taxes for the Crown. Our father, the king, refused. Allisander then made a plea to Harristan, leaning on their friendship, asking him to intercede on the Sallistersโ behalfโand still, our father, a fair and just man, refused.
โWe cannot force one sector to yield lands to another,โ he said to us over dinner. โOur lands were divided by law, and we will not unjustly take from one to give to another.โ
He made Harristan reject Allisanderโs request personally. Publicly. At a dinner with all the consuls present.
In retrospect, I think Father meant to send a message, that it was unfair to seek favoritism through his children, and he wouldnโt play those kinds of games.
But Allisander took it personally. We didnโt see him in the palace much a๎er that.
Not until last year, when his silver-hoarding father stepped down. Harristan had hoped Allisander would be a new voice for his sector, the key to distributing more of the Moonย ower petals among the population.
Instead, heโs worse than his father was. Under Nathaniel Sallister, Moonย ower prices were expensive, but stable. Allisander never misses a chance to negotiate for more. Harristan doesnโt like to think that their controversy as teenagers would have anything to do with the way Allisander barters now, but I have no doubt.
I spend a lot of time at these meetings imagining ways to irritate him.
โA new bridge along with extra medicinal rations would give Artis an unfair advantage at trade,โ Allisander says.
โAn unfair advantage!โ Jonas sputters. โYou and Lissa control the Moonย ower, and you want to accuse me of seeking an unfair advantage?โ
Allisander steeples hisย ngers and says nothing.
Jonas isnโt wrong. Allisander Sallister represents the Moonlight Plains, and Lissa Marpetta represents Emberridgeโthe two sectors where the Moonย ower, the only known treatment for the fevers that plague Kandala, grows.
๎ขerefore the richest sectors.ย ๎ขe most powerful.
Also, the reason all my imagined irritants for Allisander stay in my head. I can hate him and need him as an ally at the same time. โRegardless of advantage,โ I say, โyour motives in your proposal were deceitful, Jonas.โ
Allisander glances across the table at me and gives a small nod of appreciation.
I nod in return. I want to throw the fountain pen at him.
Roydan Pelham clears his throat from the other end of the table. Heโs pushing eighty, with weathered skin that canโt seem to decide if itโs more beige or more sallow. Heโs served on this council since my grandfather was king. Most of the others seem to grudgingly tolerate him, but I rather like the old man. Heโs set in his ways, but heโs also the only consul who seemed genuinely concerned for us a๎er our parents were killed. No one dotes on Harristanโor me, for that matterโbut if anyone could be considered doting, it would be Roydan.
โMy people su๏ฌer as greatly as Artisโs,โ he says quietly. โIf you grant this petition, I will seek the same.โ
โYou have no river to cross!โ says Jonas.
โIndeed,โ says Roydan. โBut my people are just as sick.โ
My brain wants to dri๎.ย ๎ขis is a common argument. If the proposal from Artis hadnโt started it, something else would have.ย ๎ขe fever has no cure.
Our people are su๏ฌering. Allisander and Lissa wonโt yield the power and control granted to them by their lands and holdingsโand as much as Harristan would love to be able to seize their properties, the other consuls would never stand for it.
Harristan lets them argue for a few minutes. Heโs more patient than I am. Or maybe heโs just better rested. I did let him sleep till noon, when Iโve been up longer than the sun.
Eventually, my brother shi๎s his weight and inhales, and thatโs all it takes for them to shut up.
โYour petition was rejected,โ Harristan says to Jonas. โYou are free toย le another before we convene next month.โ
๎ขe man sucks in a breath like he wants to argue, but his eyesย ick to me, and his mouth claps shut. My brotherโs temper has a limit, and no one here wants toย nd it.
โWhen your people are su๏ฌering,โ Arella says fearlessly, โit would not be inappropriate for the Crown to help make them well.โ
Harristan looks down the table at her. โAt what cost? All of Kandala is su๏ฌering.ย ๎ขe supply of Moonย ower petals is not endless. How would you choose, Arella? Would you sacriย ce your doses? Your familyโs?โ
She swallows. She wouldnโt. None of them would.
I think of Harristanโs cough this morning, of his fever last month, and I canโt even blame them.
I wouldnโt either.
โWe will dine now,โ says Harristan, and the silent attendants shi๎ย away from the wall to begin serving the food. For a short while, the only sound in the room is the clatter of silver against china. But under it all, I catch the low hiss of Jonasโs voice, spoken under his breath to Jasper Gold, the consul from Mosswell.
โ๎ขeyโre heartless,โ he says.
I freeze. From the corner of my eye, I see Harristanโs fork go still as well. It might be a coincidence. I wait to see if heโll acknowledge the words.
He doesnโt.
And because Iโmย notย heartless, I donโt either.
