The workshop was always tiny for me and Wes. With four of us, it’s downright crowded. It feels like a risk aer the rebels found us here last time
—but we’re outside the sector, and I don’t know where else to go. e guards are outside, Rocco at the door while orin walks a perimeter. e king doesn’t want to risk a re, but we have candles that Quint lights along the table, so we’re not trapped in complete darkness. Corrick is upright in the chair, but his breathing is shallow, and he’s got an arm across his abdomen like everything hurts. It feels like weeks ago that we were kissing in this room, his hands and his mouth warming me from head to toe, when it’s hardly been a day.
e sector alarms haven’t stopped ringing, but they’re not as loud from here, and they don’t inspire panic when the only person I used to worry about is here within these walls.
I pull a low stool next to Corrick’s chair and sit beside him. “I still have some herbs here,” I say soly, touching my hand to his. “But I can’t brew tea without a re.”
Corrick shakes his head, but his ngers close around mine. His eyes keep falling closed.
Harristan glances at the door, then at the window. He runs a hand across his face and looks down at his brother for a long moment.
“I should have told you,” Corrick says, as if he can feel the king’s gaze. His words are slow and heavy. “I’m sorry.”
“As am I,” says Quint. He’s leaning against the wall in the corner.
I know they’re not apologizing for their actions, just the secret, but I’m not sorry about any of it. I’d do it all again, without hesitation. We couldn’t help all of Kandala, but we helped those we could—and we did it without hurting anyone.
Harristan sighs. “Well, whatever you were doing, you didn’t cause this revolution.”
Corrick says nothing, and I wonder if he’s fallen asleep. e shadows under his eyes seem darker. He said he didn’t think his ankle was broken, but he couldn’t put weight on it during the walk to the workshop, and he sweat through most of his clothes by the time the guards got him through the door, so I know he’s more hurt than he’s letting on.
Harristan is watching him too. With another sigh, he tugs at his jacket buttons, then slips his arms free. He lays the garment over his brother, then retreats to sit along the hearth. We sit in silence for the longest time, and it presses in around us, thick with worry. I wonder how many people were in the palace, and how many were killed—or how many were able to escape. Corrick said that rebellion was coming from both sides.
I wonder if Karri was part of the attack. Lochlan. Earle. All the people we once helped.
I think of what they did to Corrick, and the attack on the palace doesn’t seem too far off.
Corrick’s hand goes slack within mine, and I glance at his face in alarm, but his breathing has deepened. He’s asleep.
“Quint,” Harristan says soly, breaking through my thoughts. “Your Majesty?”
“You’re still bleeding.”
“Oh. It’s nothing.” But Quint’s voice is soer than I’m used to. “It’s from the exertion.”
Harristan has already uncurled from the hearth, and he stops in front of Quint. e Palace Master was sitting with his arms folded, but now I realize he was pressing his hand against a wound.
“Quint,” I whisper. I should have noticed. I should have seen. My focus has been on Corrick, and now a wash of guilt sweeps through me. “You should have said something.”
“Prince Corrick was by far more—”
“Show me,” says Harristan, and as usual, his voice leaves no room for argument.
Quint hesitates, then lowers his arms and draws his jacket to the side. e entire le side of his shirt is dark with blood. e king peers at it for a moment, then looks at me. “Do you have supplies here?”
“Nothing for stitching,” I say. “I have muslin to wrap it.” I fetch the roll of fabric I used to tend Corrick’s arm, along with the small scissors we kept for cutting bags of dried Moon ower.
“Honestly,” says Quint. “It’s barely a scratch—” “Sit,” says Harristan. “Remove your jacket.” Quint sits. Obeys.
I expect Harristan to move out of the way so I can treat the wound, but instead, he holds out a hand for the supplies.
I inhale to say I can do it, but then I think better of it and give him what he asked for. He unrolls a long strip of cloth and slices through it neatly.
Quint watches this, then glances at me and back at the king. “You are the king,” he begins. “If I may—”
“I know who I am, Quint.” Harristan’s voice isn’t impatient, the way I’ve heard him before. He sounds . . . thoughtful. He lis the edge of Quint’s shirt, and I wince as I get a closer look. An arrow cut straight across the side of his abdomen, causing a wound at least ve inches long. I can’t tell how deep it is, but it’s bled enough to tell me that it won’t heal well without stitching. He’s probably right that exertion made it worse than it would’ve been.
Harristan rolls up the muslin to press it tightly against the wound, and Quint hisses a breath. But the king is quicker than I expect, and he wraps a length around Quint’s waist swily, holding the bandage in place. His ngers are sure and gentle as he overlaps it twice, before tying it off with a well- placed knot.
“You’re very good at that,” I say, and I mean it.
Harristan glances at me. “I was sickly as a child. I spent a great deal of time among the palace physicians.” He looks back at Quint. “at should hold until it can be treated properly.”
Quint’s expression ickers into a frown. “ank you, Your Majesty.” “ank you. at arrow was meant for me.” Harristan says this as if it’s
nothing, then rolls up the remaining muslin in his hands and looks at me. “Who else knows of this place?”
“e rebel Lochlan,” I say. “And the men who came with him.” “And what do they want?” he says.
I stare at him. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“ey have attacked the palace, Tessa.” He pauses. “What do they want from me? Do they want silver? Medicine? A full pardon?”
I think of all the people who were attacking Corrick. He was so sure that they’d use him against Harristan, but then they didn’t. ey just wanted vengeance. “I don’t know who these Benefactors are, but the people just . . .” I swallow. “ey want to stop dying.”
He looks away, and when he speaks, his voice is low. “I want that, too.”
I hear the truth behind every word. I’ve heard it since the rst day I faced this man in the palace. I saw it in the way he patched up Quint’s wound. He and his brother have spent years doing what they felt they needed to do to survive, and they’ve been destroying themselves in the process.
“Corrick implicated Arella and Roydan,” says Quint.
e king runs a hand across his jaw. “Yes. He did. And while I can see Arella taking a radical stance, I can’t see Roydan going along with it. en again, I can’t see the other consuls taking such a strong stance against me, and clearly they are.” He shakes his head. “I can’t stay here. I will not hide in the shadows while the sector burns.”
“You cannot return, Your Majesty,” says Quint. “It’s too dangerous.”
“I believe I’ve spent too much time allowing others to do what they think is best.” Harristan looks at me. “And what about you? Where do you stand?”
I stare back at him. “I want people to stop dying, too.”
“I can’t cure the fevers, Tessa. I would if I could.” He pauses. “Where would you be in this revolution, if my brother had not tricked you?”
Tricked. I take a breath and think of my last conversation with Weston Lark. My voice is so yet strong as I say, “I’d be lighting the explosives myself.”
e king smiles, but it’s a little grim. “Far easier to start a war than to end one.” He pauses, his eyes skipping across my form in a way that’s coolly assessing. “ese rebels tortured Corrick, but not you.”
I glare at him. “And you think I was somehow a part of it?”
“No.” He steps right up to me, and his eyes are as chilling as Corrick’s can be. “One day we will have a conversation that does not end in accusations,” he says. “What I mean is that they did not harm you.” He pauses. “ey did not trust the King’s Justice. But they trust the outlaw Tessa.”
My breath catches. Yes. ey do. I remember Earle’s gentle hand on my arm when Corrick was begging Lochlan to end his life quickly. Even
Lochlan himself was gentler with me, having one of the men cut me loose aer I got them to stop beating Corrick.
“What are you saying?” I whisper.
“I am saying that civil war will kill far more people than the fever ever could. I am certain my soldiers have already begun a defense. People are likely dying in the streets as we speak. On both sides. If I cannot restore order, this will spill outside the Royal Sector.” He pauses. “I have yielded to Consul Sallister’s demands for far too long. I have yielded to the demands of the elites for too long. I will hear from my people.”
I stare at him.
“I don’t know what I can promise,” he cautions. “Change is never quick or easy. But I would like to try. Will you help me?”
My mouth is dry. I glance at Corrick, who’s well and truly sleeping now. I’m not sure what to say. e rebels might not hate me—but they might not listen to me. I’m not entirely sure I trust Harristan either. He might want his people to stop dying, but we have very different ideas of how to accomplish that. I know he can’t snap his ngers and change everything, but I’m not naive enough to think he’d do that even if he could.
I think of my father, acting in de ance of the throne. Would he do this? Or would he be disappointed I’m not running the streets with the rebels myself?
King Harristan is watching me, and I’m sure he can read every emotion as it crosses my face. His expression is as sly and calculating as ever. “Perhaps I should have started by asking what it is that you want.”
I smooth my sweaty palms along my skirts. “I want . . .” My voice is breathy again, and I clear my throat. I want people to stop dying. But we all want that.
I take a breath and look at him. “I want a pardon for the rebels. Or . . .” I search for the right word. “Or amnesty. Both.” I glance at Corrick again, asleep under his brother’s jacket. I have to steel my nerve to add, “Including the people who hurt him.”
Harristan’s expression hardens, and I rush on, “ey won’t listen to you at all if they think you’re going to execute them for hurting the King’s Justice.”
“Very well,” he concedes. “What else?”
I can’t believe I’m negotiating with the king. I don’t know what else to ask for. Medicine for everyone? I know he can’t grant that. en a thought
occurs to me.
“I want you to let Corrick stop being the King’s Justice,” I say soly.
At that, Harristan frowns. “I did not force him into the role. He is not indentured in some way.”
“I know. I know.” I take a breath. “But . . .” My voice trails off.
“If I may,” says Quint, “at the risk of interrupting your negotiations . . .” “Please,” I say, just as Harristan says, “No.”
I fold my arms.
Harristan smiles, and for the rst time, it reaches his eyes. I wonder if he hides as much as Corrick. “Go ahead, Quint.”
“Prince Corrick may not need your permission,” says Quint, “but I believe it would mean a great deal to know he has it.”
“Fine,” says Harristan. His gaze hasn’t le mine. “Anything else?” I think. “No.”
“Nothing for yourself? What I have asked of you is not a small thing, Tessa.”
For half a second, my thoughts whirl. He’s the king. But I’ve never done any of this for nancial gain, and I have no desire to require it as part of helping him negotiate peace. en I consider Mistress Solomon’s, and how I likely no longer have a position there.
“I’ll need a job,” I say. “And lodgings. Nothing . . . nothing grand, of course. But you were going to give me an opportunity to help improve dosages before.” I hesitate, wondering if I’m asking too much. “I’d like to have a chance again. When all this is over.”
“Done,” he says. He straightens. “Quint, remain with Corrick. I will leave Rocco at your disposal.”
Quint stands, and he looks startled. “But—Your Majesty—”
“You are injured, and so is he. If this place is as remote as it seems, you will be safest here.” He looks at me. “Are you ready to play liaison?”
I feel the blood rush out of my face. I would’ve been brave enough to light the match to ignite the ame. Somehow extinguishing it seems more frightening.
But the king offers me his hand, and much like Corrick, I have a choice in what I’m going to do.
I reach out and take it.
