The house Quint secured for Saeth’s family is tiny, set well apart from any others. It looks more like a remote hunting cabin than a building to serve any other purpose. From what I remember, it’s a fraction of the size of the house they had in Mosswell, with no pens for livestock or even much of a yard, but there’s a wide porch with a swing. The shutters are all drawn tight, but lantern light flickers through the cracks. I don’t hear anything from within, but a fire must be set in the hearth because smoke curls from the chimney, too.
“That one?” I say to Thorin.
He nods. “I’ll wait outside.”
“No,” I say. “Go sleep. You should have let Saeth relieve you earlier.”
“I can remain with you for the morning.
“If you fall asleep on your feet, it won’t do any of us much good, Thorin.”
He gives a humorless laugh. “I haven’t done much good lately anyway.”
That draws me up short. “What?”
He looks over. “I suggested Reed and Sommer.”
“And I agreed.”
He sets his jaw and looks away.
I speak into his silence. “Saeth agreed as well. And Master Quint, for that matter. Reed was loyal. He died proving it. Thorin—this was not your fault. Sommer was desperate and starving.”
He says nothing to that either.
“We should have gone for them earlier,” I say. “I was worried they were locked in the Hold. I had no idea they’d be banished from the sector and left to starve. I failed. And not just the mission. I failed them. They deserved better. And now, because of it, I’m failing both of you.”
Thorin is so quiet that I think he agrees, and the weight of this knowledge sits heavy in my heart. But then he says, “I’ve known Jack Wadestrom all my life. I don’t know if you knew that. Our mothers have been close since before I was born, so he’s practically family. We even made it into the palace guard around the same time. Two weeks ago I was buying him a drink when we got off duty—and now he’s dead.”
I let out a breath.
“He was loyal,” Thorin says quietly. “They were all loyal. If you’d asked me to name anyone I’d expect to turn on you, Jack wouldn’t have made the list. And he didn’t just turn on you. He turned on me.”
I think of the horrible battle in the clearing, the way the rain poured down. Thorin and Wadestrom were grappling in the mud, and I thought all was lost—until Saeth showed up.
“How did it change so fast?” Thorin says, and there’s a desperate note to his voice. “What have they been telling them?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “But nothing that happened last night was a failing on your part. Nothing.”
His eyes seem to darken a bit, and he hesitates as if he’s going to contradict me, but then he says, “None of it was a failing on your part either.”
I look at the small house, all locked up tight. I consider Leah Saeth, and the mystery of whatever she endured. I consider Sommer waiting to be questioned, with answers that might be damning in ways I can’t even fathom. “That remains to be seen.”
Saeth’s wife answers the door when I knock, and when she sees me alone on the threshold, her eyes flare wide, and she gasps. The surprise doesn’t last long before it’s replaced with the same icy regard from last night. She grabs hold of her skirts and offers me a brief curtsy. “Your Majesty. I thought it would be Ben, coming to summon us.”
“To . . . summon you?” I echo.
“Adam said you would have questions.” She lifts her chin boldly. “I presumed we would be brought before the king.”
Saeth speaks from somewhere behind her. “Leah.” Then he appears at her side to face me. The baby is asleep in his arms, drooling onto his tunic. Little Ruby has trailed him to the door, and she’s clinging to his trousers, looking up at me with big eyes.
“Your Majesty. Forgive me.” He gives his wife a look. “Us.”
Leah scowls.
“I do have questions,” I say carefully. “If you’re willing to answer.” I pause. “I don’t mean for it to be an interrogation.”
“Oh, I’ve been through plenty of interrogations,” Leah says darkly, and I remember one of the guards saying, Do you know what they did to your wife? Her eyes hold mine, full of anger. “What’s one more?”
Saeth inhales sharply, but I lift a hand. “You can speak openly,” I say. “I’d like to hear about the others.”
“Then come in, Your Majesty.” She takes a step back and extends a hand toward a small table near the hearth. “I never dreamed the king would deign to visit me personally.”
The sarcasm in her voice is thick. Saeth’s jaw is tight, but I stopped him once, so he says nothing. Ruby’s eyes flick between us all.
I step across the threshold and follow her to the table. “Your husband has stayed by my side through countless attacks, and regardless of what you’ve endured, you’ve joined him here. That’s no small sacrifice. If we survive to stand against the consuls and reclaim my kingdom, the king will visit you every week, Mistress Saeth.”
That burns out some of her fire—but not all of it. She eases into a chair across from me, and when she speaks, her voice has lost the edge. “Last night, Adam told me you said he could leave.”
“I did. And I meant it.” I glance at my guardsman, then at the baby in his arms, and finally at the little girl, who’s the only one who hasn’t taken a seat at the table. She’s standing between her parents, peering across at me. “I still mean it,” I add. “None of you are trapped here.”
Leah regards me levelly. “Do you know how much money Consul Sallister is offering for information about your whereabouts?”
I wonder if that’s meant to be a threat, or if it’s just a question. “I heard it was a thousand silvers,” I say. “Do you know how little I trust that he’d actually pay it?”
“Oh, I think he would. You know how I know?”
“Tell me.”
Her eyes don’t leave mine, and her voice is cool and even. “Because he paid soldiers to stand guard at my door. He paid my neighbors to report on everything I did. Captain Huxley himself showed up to question me every day for a week. He’d have guards search the house every time. At first I didn’t know the king was missing—they just said Adam was wanted for treason, and if I didn’t help them find him, they would hang my children in front of me.”
My eyes flick to Ruby, wondering if she should be elsewhere for this conversation, but she doesn’t flinch.
Leah watches my gaze shift, and she says, “Oh, they said far worse to her, Your Majesty.”
Her husband reaches out and puts a hand over hers.
“When I had no answers to give, their questions changed. Gossip began to spread that no one had seen the king. Then announcements were made that the king had fled the palace after proof was found that he was poisoning the people. They said that you had a select group of guards assisting you, and Adam was one of them. No matter what I said, they didn’t believe me. They thought Adam would eventually return home—or that we had a secret way of signaling him. That this had been planned, and all they had to do was wait us out.”
She abruptly falls silent and looks away, and I realize Saeth’s jaw is tight. But he lifts her hand and brushes a kiss across her knuckles.
“Forgive me,” he whispers. “I had no idea.”
She looks back at him and says nothing. But she pulls his hand to her cheek and closes her eyes.
Ruby looks between her parents, then back at me. When she speaks, her voice is so small. “The soldiers took all our food.”
Leah opens her eyes again and takes a breath. “And our money. We had nothing. And the neighbors had been warned that if they helped us, they would be guilty of treason as well. They claim you’ve been poisoning the people, and using Moonflower profits to line your own pockets. Consul Sallister absolutely would pay this money, Your Majesty. All this and more.”
The weight of their emotion is weighing on my heart—but my thoughts are churning, too. Because I didn’t plan any of this, and they all well know it.
Right?
Could there be any chance that the other consuls do believe I’m poisoning the populace, that they really are protecting Kandala by working with Allisander?
That’s too complicated to figure out, and I doubt Leah knows the answer.
I glance between her and the children again. “The soldiers took your money and food,” I say quietly. “How did you survive?”
She’s quiet for a long minute, and the weight of the silence presses down on us all. Eventually Saeth leans in and says, “Do you want me to—”
“No,” she says, and her voice is softer. “I’ll do it.” She pauses. “We were left under heavy guard. They wouldn’t leave us alone. Not to dress, not to wash, not to . . .” She shudders and looks away, pulling her shawl more tightly against herself. “Not to do anything. But they had to eat. Ruby would beg for their scraps. Most of them would mock her. But sometimes they would give them to her. And sometimes she would sneak them to me.”
She’s ashamed by this; I can tell. The baby fusses in Saeth’s arms, but he bounces the infant a little and the child settles.
I look at my guardsman. “Were they still under guard when you arrived at your home?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“How many?”
“Four.”
I look at him steadily, and he looks right back at me. I know we’re both remembering our final conversation in the wagon, before he left to fetch his family. We were worried his wife and children were being watched like the others—but not to this extent.
And I sent him off to face four armed guards alone.
“As soon as I saw them, I knew it was worse than we expected,” Saeth says, and there’s a dark tone to his words. “I had a choice to make. So I made it.”
He killed them. Saeth doesn’t need to say it. I can hear it in his voice.
I wonder if those men did more to his wife and family than what they’ve said. I consider the heavy tension in this house, the drawn shutters, the way his wife drew that shawl around herself.
I probably don’t need to wonder.
Corrick ordered a lot of terrible things as King’s Justice, but there’s a difference between execution and torture. A difference between justice and torment.
Baby William fusses again, so the guardsman taps him on the nose, then blows the wispy baby hair off his forehead. The infant startles and waves an arm, but then his face breaks out in a wide smile. Saeth smiles back at him.
I can understand now why Thorin didn’t accept his offer of relief this morning.
“Were you able to learn anything?” I say.
Saeth looks back at me. “No. But I knew if they were willing to put that many guards on my family, there was a greater chance that you and Thorin would encounter an ambush on the road.”
As we did.
And despite everything they’d been through, his starving wife and children followed him into the rain to come help us.
I lean in against the table and wish I had more to offer than words. My chest is tight. “Truly,” I say. “I am grateful for your sacrifice.”
Leah looks across the table at me. “I knew Adam wasn’t a traitor to Kandala. I’m still not sure about you.”
“I’m not poisoning my people, Mistress Saeth. I swear to you. This is treason and sedition, but it’s not from my side.”
“Who is it, then?”
“I don’t know for sure.” I glance at my guardsman, and I hate that I’m going to have to ask him to leave his family. But Thorin truly does need to rest, and I don’t want to do this next part alone. “I have one other man to question,” I say, “so I intend to find out.”
More people are out and about when we stride through the Wilds to fetch Quint before we question Sommer. Stares and whispers follow me, a stark reminder of everyone we lost last night—but no one approaches.
Saeth is quiet at my side, which isn’t unusual, but the silence feels too heavy. Nothing I can say to him seems adequate, however. There’s nothing I can offer. It’s not just everything he and his wife revealed. It’s the weight of our failures pressing down, with no promise of relief. The day before we were attacked, he ran for miles, leading a pack of the night patrol out of the Wilds away from me. There’s a chance he’ll have to do it again. I wonder if I’ll be looking at an exhausted Saeth tonight, begging him to take leave, replacing him with a barely refreshed Thorin—a revolving cycle of guarding and fighting and sleeping with no end in sight.
“I’m sorry I made you leave your family,” I finally say.
He blinks and looks at me like I apologized for there being air to breathe. “You didn’t make me leave them. Thorin needed to rest. I offered to relieve him twice, and he refused both times.”
I frown. “I didn’t know it was twice.”
Saeth nods. “He’s so angry that they’ve turned on us.” His voice takes on an edge. “I want to hear what Sommer says, too.”
“I hope he actually has information.” A short distance away, a man stops splitting wood to watch us pass, and I scowl. I lower my voice and glance at Saeth. “Everyone keeps staring and whispering. I’m worried news of the bounty has spread and they’re readying to turn us in. Or perhaps they’re looking to retaliate after our failures.” I glance around again, thinking of those men who showed up on the porch with Francis, armed with farm tools. “Should we prepare to move? Advise.”
His eyebrows go up. “No, Your Majesty. That’s not what they’re whispering about.”
“Then . . . why?”
“Because that ambush killed off most of our traveling party, and you retaliated. That boy Nook has been telling everyone that you called a guard off him so he could escape. You stood with the people in the Wilds against men who were once loyal to you.” His voice turns solemn. “Everyone who was there saw how much it cost you.”
I stare at him. I want to say that it’s not at all what happened—but it is.
He hesitates, then runs a hand over the back of his neck. “At the risk of being too bold—”
“Trust me, Saeth, I’m growing immune to boldness.”
“Well, you even tugged at Leah’s heartstrings, because the whole walk through the rain she kept telling me she was going to shoot you herself when we met up with the wagon—and then the first thing she said when we were alone was that she understood why I stayed.”
I swallow and run a hand across my jaw. That’s very different from the woman who just sat in front of me and challenged me at every turn—but I believe him.
Saeth nods at my reaction. “Nook knocked on my door at daybreak to ask if Thorin and I would be training today.” He scoffs. “Leah loved that, let me tell you.”
That makes my chest clench. “No matter how much training you give them, they’re not an army, Saeth. A few guards almost killed them all.”
“I know.”
“Then why on earth don’t you sound more bleak about all this?”
“Because you’ve won them over.” He nods at the man splitting wood, and the man looks startled at the acknowledgment, then nods back. “None of these people are turning us in now. We’re safer than we ever were. I wouldn’t leave Leah and the kids alone if I were worried.”
As if to prove his words, the man sets down his ax, then drops to one knee and puts a hand over his heart.
It’s the first time anyone has done that in the Wilds, and I almost stop short.
“It’s not just that,” Saeth is saying.
“What else?” I say, because I’m not sure my heart can take much more.
“If you threw yourself in front of a guard to protect a boy—as the story goes—then no one here is ever going to be convinced you were poisoning the people. No matter what the consuls say, you’ve won over the Wilds.”
I’ve won over the Wilds. My heart pounds.
Now I just need to win over the sectors.
By the time we find Francis, Quint has joined us. They did keep Sommer locked in the cellar, and when Saeth tells some of the men to bring him out, they all but throw him at my feet. He’s more crouching than kneeling, and he looks like a gust of wind might knock him over. The cloak is gone, but he’s still in the sodden, mud-soaked clothes he was wearing last night, and his hands are bound with twine behind his back. It’s a warm morning, but it must have been cold in the cellar, because he’s shivering, blinking in the sunlight. He’s pale, with blood crusted in his blond hair and down the side of his face, along with impressive bruising that would rival Thorin’s.
He definitely didn’t have that last night.
I look at Francis sharply. “What happened? Did he give you trouble?”
Sommer looks up at that, and he shakes his head violently. “No. No, Your Majesty.”
Another man coughs. “We might have had a little fun before we put him down there.”
There are a few low snickers from the others. I notice Nook is among them, and he looks a little uncertain, but one of the men claps him on the shoulder, and he smiles. I wonder if they let him “help” with whatever fun they were having.
My chest clenches at the thought. Much like last night, I hate this.
The worst part is that I understand why they did it, the same way I understood the dark note in Saeth’s voice when he said he had a choice to make. But it’s the first time I’ve felt pulled in both directions like this. Sommer might have betrayed us—but he was still one of my guards. And he wouldn’t have done this if he hadn’t been driven to it.
“What did you feed him?” I say, and I keep my tone level, without censure.
“I threw some hay down there,” says another man.
A woman nearby offers a dark laugh. “I offered some of my chicken feed.”
“Did you peck for some food, soldier?” taunts the first. There are flecks of grain stuck to the blood on Sommer’s face, which make me think that he did.
One of the other men makes clucking noises, and they all laugh.
“Enough,” I snap.
They’re all jolted into silence.
I look at Francis. “I asked you to feed him a meal.”
He glares right back at me. “Yeah, well he killed half our people.”
“No. The others may have, but he didn’t. He was trying to capture me. He was desperate for food, just as you were all desperate for medicine. We will not stoop to these means.” I look at the man who made the mocking chicken sounds. “You will fetch him a proper meal. Now.”
He’s an older man with an impressive beard and an even more impressive glower, and he doesn’t move. If he thinks he can intimidate me, he’s wrong. I stand my ground, and after a moment, he gives me a half-hearted nod and mumbles, “Yes, Your Majesty,” then turns away.
I glance at Saeth. “Cut his hands free.”
When he does, Sommer makes a small sound, and I see that the twine sliced into his skin in several places. He must have been bound all night because he moves gingerly, rubbing at his wrists, wincing. His eyes are fixed on my boots, his breathing still hitching a bit.
I’ve never really questioned anyone. That was always my brother’s purview. If I had occasion to speak with a prisoner, it was rare.
Honestly, the last time I faced a prisoner, it was Corrick himself, bruised and bleeding and starving, just like this.
I force thoughts of my brother out of my head. They won’t help me now.
The bearded man has returned with a basket of food and a water skin, and he practically thrusts them at me, but Saeth takes them. There must be cinnamon bread fresh from someone’s oven, because I can smell it. Quint has asked someone else to bring me a chair, so I sit.
Sommer’s head has lifted a bit, and there’s a new tightness to his shoulders, as if he wants to lunge for the food, but he doesn’t dare risk it. His throat jerks as he swallows.
“Sit,” I say. “You can eat.”
He looks up, his eyes meeting mine for the first time this morning, but he doesn’t move. I wonder if he expects me to trick him, just like the others did.
“We may not have a long history together,” I say to him, “but you spent enough time in my personal guard to know I’m rarely anything other than forthright.” I take the basket from Saeth and set it in front of him. “Eat or not, Sommer. The choice is yours.”
After a moment’s hesitation, he sits back on his heels and tugs at the cloth wrapping the food. His voice is low and rough. “Thank you, Your Majesty.” Then he takes a swig from the water skin, barely setting it down before he shoves a slice of cinnamon bread into his mouth.
The men and women of the Wilds are still nearby, surrounding us, and while I want to send them away, I keep thinking about what Saeth said, how I’ve finally won them over. They lost people, too. Their curiosity is valid. And unlike what happened to Saeth’s family, Sommer has no expectation of privacy here.
So I ignore their looming and focus on the guard in front of me. Unlike Thorin and Saeth, whom I’ve known since before I was crowned king, I don’t know Sommer well. I remember choosing him, and I remember hearing his oath. Until last night, he never gave me a reason to doubt it.
It’s terrifying to consider how fragile loyalty is. My father taught me so many things about being a king, but never this.
“Start at the beginning,” I say to him, and I realize Quint has taken a seat nearby, his book and pencil ready. “Tell me what happened on the day I disappeared from the palace.”
Sommer hesitates, then nods. He keeps his eyes on the food. “I didn’t come on duty until midday. By then, it was already known that you were missing. Master Quint was gone, and so were Thorin and Saeth. The rumors were outrageous, because everyone had a different story. Someone said a girl had sung ridiculous songs on the palace steps all night, trying to convince a footman to find Master Quint.”
He says this like it makes no sense at all, but it’s probably the truest of all the rumors. I’d been desperate, and I’d given Violet my signet ring so she could convince the footman to summon Quint—but he didn’t believe her. So she started doing anything she could think of to annoy him into acquiescence.
Sommer tears another piece of bread free and continues. “The consuls were the ones saying you’d fled the palace, and because it was coming from them, a lot of the staff began to believe it. But those of us in your personal guard suspected a kidnapping plot of some sort.” He swallows. “We knew you didn’t trust Sallister after what happened with the Benefactors—so we didn’t either. Wadestrom and Granger started talking about a search party. We thought something had happened to you, and we’d begun to close ranks against Captain Huxley anyway.” He falters, then glances at Saeth, then at me. “I . . . I don’t know if you know that—”
“I know it now,” I say. “Continue.”
He nods. “Sallister was ahead of us, though. Or maybe the captain was. Huxley told the palace staff and the general guard that there were several among us who were assisting you to deceive the people. He and Sallister offered payment for anyone who would report a guard for acting outside orders. I still don’t know if someone actually reported Granger or if they just needed someone to take the fall, but he was hung in the courtyard the next morning.”
I inhale sharply. At my back, Saeth swears.
Sommer looks up at him and nods. “It sent a message, and quick. No one knew who’d turned him in, so we all became suspicious of each other. When days passed without word from any of you, we all began to think maybe the consuls were telling the truth—especially when they cut our pay and froze our accounts.”
“So you thought I was poisoning people,” I say flatly. “Despite never hearing me make such a claim.”
“They said you’d been conspiring with Ostriary to do it. That it was the true reason for Captain Blakemore’s visit.” Sommer glances at Saeth again, then back at me. “Rocco and Saeth were both with you on the day he arrived, so it fed suspicion. Especially since you sent Rocco away—and allowed Rocco to choose the team who sailed. Captain Huxley said you deliberately went around him for the guard placement, too. It was obvious you were working in collusion. It all began to raise a few eyebrows.”
A note of challenge has entered his voice. It’s subtle, but it’s there, reminding me of the way Lennard spat vitriol at me in the rain last night. There’s a part of him that believes these claims that Huxley and the consuls were making. I want to knock the food right out of his hands and have the men throw him back in the cellar.
But he also watched his friends die, just like Saeth and Thorin. He spent the night bound and shivering and starving, after being beaten by men who likely presumed I would approve of their treatment.
He might be a prisoner, but I need to convince him, too.
“I did send Rocco, and I did go around Captain Huxley,” I say. “But there was no collusion. Rocco came to me and offered to sail with Prince Corrick because he has experience on board a ship. Rocco was also suspicious of Huxley—as he is the one who first told me about how you all were ‘closing ranks.’ I let him choose his team because he’d earned the right to do so. I may not always succeed, but I do my best to treat my people fairly, Sommer.” I glance at the bread in his hands. “Perhaps you should consider the food you’re eating if you need a reminder.”
Sommer considers that, then frowns and looks at my boots.
But he doesn’t take another bite.
“What else?” I say. “Who was truly pushing this narrative that I was colluding with my guards and conspiring with Ostriary? Was it Huxley or the consuls?”
Sommer thinks for a moment, then shakes his head. “It’s all getting muddled now. Consul Sallister kept saying that Blakemore was threatening to reveal your methods for poisoning the people if you didn’t share a greater portion of your profits with him.”
“Profits! Profits from what?”
“Profits from the sale of Moonflower petals.”
“I don’t profit from the sale of Moonflower petals!” I cry, smacking my chest. “Sallister does!”
Sommer draws back. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
Everyone around us is absolutely silent, listening.
I make an exasperated sound and grit my teeth. I absolutely cannot believe I once called Allisander Sallister a friend.
“A question, if I may,” says Quint.
“Please,” I say.
“How was Consul Sallister able to convince the other consuls of this? They know the king doesn’t profit from the sale of Moon-flower any more than they do.”
Sommer hesitates, looking uncertain now. “Well, they know the Crown takes a cut of all sales and shipments—”
“Lord,” I say, and I have to run a hand down my face. “Not the taxes and shipping levies again. As much as they like to ignore it, they must realize it costs silver to run the kingdom, surely. Where exactly do you think your own pay comes from, Sommer?”
He blanches a little at that, so I lean in and add, “And now that you’re not getting it, where do you think it’s going? I’m clearly not stockpiling silver here.”
He swallows thickly.
At my back, Saeth says, “Maybe it’s paying these bounties you’re all so eager to claim. They stopped paying your salary and instead paid you to turn traitor.”
Sommer clenches his jaw and looks away.
Quint clears his throat. “Not to divert from the point you’re making, Your Majesty, but I’m still trying to understand how the consuls would all believe him. Some of them, yes. But Arella Cherry, for instance, was always highly critical of Allisander—”
“Oh, she was,” says Sommer. “But that was before she and Consul Pelham found the proof that Kandala was working with Ostriary. And that bolstered Sallister’s claims.”
“Proof?” I say.
“Yes. She had shipping logs that dated back for decades, showing years of secret dealings with another kingdom, including letters that indicate a means to poison the people. She actually may have been the first consul to know that the mission to Ostriary was a farce, because rumor says that she brought her proof to Baron Pepperleaf’s daughter. The baron himself is the one who sent the armed brigantines.”
None of this makes sense. I remember Arella and Roydan searching through shipping logs, but there’s no proof of poisoning—and if there was, why wouldn’t they bring it to me?
But I’m stuck on the last part of what Sommer said. “What armed brigantines?”
“The ones sent after Prince Corrick and Captain Blakemore. To stop them from reaching Ostriary.”
I’m frozen in place at these words. The world seems to go still.
The night I left the palace snaps back into my memory with crystal clear focus. It was the night when everything went wrong, when I snuck into the Wilds as the Fox to see what I could learn. Arella Cherry and Laurel Pepperleaf had stood in front of the people along with Captain Huxley from the palace guard. I had no idea what they were doing there.
They said I was poisoning the people. It was so clearly a false claim that I disregarded it.
Then they announced that Captain Blakemore’s ship would never reach Ostriary. That also had to be a false claim, so I disregarded it as well. How on earth would they know?
Armed brigantines.They sent warships after my brother.
I’m not breathing. I’m not even sure my heart is beating.
A strong hand grips my shoulder, and I almost jump. Quint has risen from his seat, and the edge of his hand is warm against the skin of my neck.
He’d never touch me like this in the palace.
Right now I don’t want him to let go.
As if he realizes I can’t speak, he says, “What happened to these brigantines?” he says, and his voice is as hollow as I feel. “Did they return?”
Sommer looks between me and the Palace Master, and he seems to recoil into himself, as if he wishes he could un-share this particular bit of information. “Forgive me, Your Majesty. I thought you knew. They said—they said that’s why you fled. That you knew you’d been found out when you heard about the brigantines—”
“You didn’t answer,” I choke out, and my voice sounds like it’s coming from a distance. “What happened to the brigantines?”
“Were they successful in stopping Prince Corrick?” says Quint. “What happened to the Dawn Chaser?”
“No one knows.” Sommer shakes his head. “They never returned.”
