Our days fall into a busy rhythm. Olive and Ellmo arrive at dawn, and we eat and prepare our medicines and supplies for the day. Then we head out in the wagon as early as we can, trying to beat the heat of the day. By the third day, Ellmo begs to stay behind, and to my absolute shock, Erik tells him he can remain at the house with him—so Olive and I head out on our own.
We go farther west today, and I can see more of the damaged bridge from here.
“I see why Rian is so desperate for steel,” I say.
Olive nods. “There used to be a lot of active trade between the islands, but it’s harder now, because everything needs to be transported by ship—and a lot of ships were damaged in the war. Oren has six or seven ships docked offshore in Silvesse, but he keeps them well manned, and of course he won’t put them to the good of the people. We’re rebuilding as quickly as we can, but it all takes time.”
“Can we take a boat to the other islands?” I say. “I don’t mind helping other people if they need it.”
Olive hesitates. “For that, you might want to talk to Rian. I don’t know how active Oren has been in these waters. You said you were attacked between Silvesse and Fairde?”
My heart stutters. Of course.
“Right,” I say. “I wasn’t thinking. I don’t know where it was.” I fight to remember the name of where we were when Oren Crane’s ships attacked, but it’s been too long, and too many things were going on.
Olive sighs. “I still can’t quite believe Rian took his daughter. I know he’s made promises for steel, but . . .” Her jaw tightens. “I’m surprised Oren doesn’t have his head on a stake already.”
“It’s the last thing we expected to find on that ship. Corrick thought he might have been smuggling weapons or something of the sort.”
She laughs a little humorlessly. “No, Rian will do whatever he needs to do, and then he’ll convince you it was all for the good of mankind.”
That sounds about right.
I study her, though. “You think Oren Crane will attack Rian?” I ask quietly.
She looks right back at me. “For taking his daughter? I think Oren will tear him apart in whatever fashion causes the most pain.”
A shiver rolls through me. We’ve been working together for days, but we haven’t talked about anything like . . . like this.
And I’m struck by the fact that it reminds me of the way I used to talk to Weston Lark about King Harristan and Prince Corrick, before I knew who Wes really was. I’m reminded of my conversation with Erik, about how our minds can change as we gain new information. Everyone here seems to love Rian, and I know he’s working to rebuild Ostriary. His people told stories on the ship of how he risked himself to save them. Their loyalty was genuine.
Everyone seems to hate Oren, and maybe he really is vicious.
But Rian took his daughter—and now she’s dead. Corrick and Lochlan and Kilbourne are dead, too.
Oren will tear him apart.
“Do you think Rian deserves it?” I say, and my voice sounds hollow.
As soon as I say the words, I remember a conversation with Wes, not long before I learned the truth about him.
Do you think they deserve it?I said. I was talking about the prisoners sentenced to die.
I think that very few people truly deserve what they get, he said. For good or for bad.
You only deserve good things, I told him—before I knew he was the prince I hated.
Before I knew he was only doing those things because he had a kingdom to protect.
I swallow.
Olive straightens her back and cracks the reins. “I can never decide.”
Then we crest another hill, and we face another line of people who need our help.
The sun is beginning to set again when the crowd finally begins to dwindle. My dress clings to me, and tendrils of hair have escaped to stick to my face. After the first day, I cut the sleeves off my dresses, and my hours in the sun have brought up an even deeper tan to my skin than what I had on the ship, and I’ve discovered some blond streaks in my hair. In Kandala, Karri used to talk about how much she missed the warmth of Sunkeep, but I’m missing the cooler temperatures of the Royal Sector and the Wilds. A sheen of sweat gleams on my arms. I’m grateful when a middle-aged woman brings us both a bottle of some sugared tea. I’ve hardly had a chance to eat all day.
“Was it like this in Kandala?” Olive asks me. “Did you see so many people?”
“No,” I say, thinking of my days working for Mistress Solomon. But then I reconsider, remembering my secret rounds with Wes. “Well, yes, but it was different. Not all at once. I had to treat them in secret.”
“Secret!” she says in surprise.
I flush. “It’s hard to explain.”
Hoofbeats pound in the distance, and we snap our heads up. So do many of the people who still remain. There’s an air of alarm, and I see hands grip tight to tools, a few mothers shooing their children back into houses. Even Olive takes a sharp breath and a quick look for Ellmo before remembering he’s safe at the house with Erik.
Yes, the scars of war are still here, hidden behind the healing and rebuilding efforts.
A dozen horses crest the hill, and I’m shocked to discover that it’s Rian and his people. The remaining crowd settles.
My pounding heart does not.
I recognize Gwyn and Sablo, but the other men with Rian seem to be guards. Rian’s eyes find me at once, but he still has a hundred feet of ground to cover, and his entrance has generated a lot of attention. As they draw closer, people don’t hesitate to approach him, offering greetings, patting his gleaming horse, smiling up at him. Someone laughs and hands him a giggling child, and Rian sets the little boy on the animal’s withers in front of him.
“There now,” I hear him say as they walk. “You hold the reins. Be gentle.”
The people of Kandala would never be like this with the king. The guards would never allow it anyway. I try to imagine King Harristan walking among the people, and I can’t even picture it.
But here, it’s obvious that they really do love Rian—and the worst part is that it’s obvious that he loves them back. He’s just as genial in response, just as kind, listening to their stories and greetings and genuinely returning their affection.
I hate that he makes it so hard to . . . to simply hate him. I have to turn away and busy myself with putting away my things.
At my side, I realize Olive is doing the same thing.
We both look at each other in surprise.
“I can’t watch the fawning,” she whispers, and for the first time, I think I hear her voice crack. “It makes me remember Wyatt. Maybe that makes me weak.”
I reach out and squeeze her hand. “I can’t watch it either. Maybe we can both throw up on him today.”
That startles a giggle out of her, and we share a more devious glance this time.
Eventually, the hoofbeats stop behind us, and a man clears his throat, and we have to turn around.
On horseback, Rian seems ten feet tall, especially backed by guards. They all block the sun and throw shadows over us both. He must have given the boy back to his parents because he’s alone on the horse now.
“Oh, hello,” I say. “I couldn’t see you past your admirers.”
“Hello, Miss Cade. I’ve been all over the island looking for you.” He doesn’t smile. His eyes flick to Olive. “Livvy. You’ve finally decided to leave your house?”
“I finally had a reason to,” she says. Her voice is as cool as mine—and his.
“I was surprised to find my nephew with the guardsman from Kandala.”
“Oh, he’s your nephew now?” she says. She presses a finger to her lips. “I’m not sure Ellmo even remembers who you are.”
“That’s not my fault,” he says.
I realize this is going to dissolve into family drama, and he didn’t tell me why he was looking for me. “Why have you been all over the island?” I say.
That snaps his attention back. “Because you weren’t at home.”
“I told you what I was going to do with the supplies you gave me.”
He hesitates, and a little frown line appears between his eyebrows. In that flicker of time, I realize he didn’t really expect me to help anyone at all.
Before he says anything, I fold my arms. “You like to think you’re better than Corrick,” I hiss, “but deep down, you’re so much worse.”
That hits him like a dagger, because thunderclouds roll through his eyes. “Do you really think so?”
“Calculating? Cynical? Manipulative?” I look at Olive. “Have I forgotten anything?”
She snorts. “Hypocritical?”
His eyes narrow. “Maybe I shouldn’t have bothered coming to find you at all.” He glances past us at the supplies we’ve obviously been using, at the people who are still dispersing. Some of the tension slips out of his expression. “But I am grateful for what you’re doing. I don’t mean to be cynical. You surprised me, that’s all. I know how much you hate me.” He hesitates, his eyes flicking to Olive. “Both of you.”
Olive sighs and turns back to what she was doing. “What I think about you doesn’t affect how I feel about the people of Ostriary.”
“I know,” he says, and he sounds genuine. “Which is why I’m grateful.”
Those words hang in the air for a little while, until she finally turns and looks at him.
There is nothing friendly in her expression.
I want to reach out and squeeze her hand again, but it might be too much. I peer up at Rian. “You still haven’t said why you were looking for me.”
“I’ve received an interesting series of letters from the harbor-master in Silvesse.” He hesitates. “It indicates that my uncle still believes his daughter is alive and I’m holding her prisoner. He’s planning a rescue. If we could trick him into thinking we’re holding her away from the palace, it could be an opportunity to trap him for good.”
His uncle.
Oren Crane.
My heart pounds again. “Why are you telling me this?” I say. “What does it have to do with me?”
He looks back at me steadily, and he pulls a folded piece of parchment from his saddlebag. His hand grips it tight.
But then he says nothing.
Olive takes a step closer to him. “If you need her house, Rian, just say so.”
I whip my head around. “What?”
“It’s obvious that’s why he’s here. We’re on the outcropping, and it’s easily defensible. It keeps most of the island out of the line of cannon fire, too. If he stages this ‘prison’ at your house, they could surround Oren’s ship in the cove and trap him without a problem.”
Behind Rian, Sablo taps his chest, then nods. Gwyn says, “Plenty of trees for hiding, too.”
Rian looks between all of them, then lets out a breath. He looks down at the parchment he was holding, then carefully folds it up and slips it back into his saddlebag.
“Yes,” he says slowly, letting out a breath. “I want your house.” He looks at Olive, and his voice drips with sarcasm. “And I’ll need a decoy. Interested, Livvy?”
“Why don’t you get one of your sycophants.” She raises her eyebrows at the people behind him. “Are you busy, Gwyn?”
“I’ll be busy taking care of Oren.”
My heart trips and stumbles in my chest. “I’ll do it,” I say.
“Tessa!” says Olive.
Rian startles, too. “What? No.”
“Why not?” I demand. “I’m the right age. I can’t fight, but I can sit and look like a prisoner.”
“Absolutely not.”
Olive grabs my hand. Her eyes are piercing. “Tessa. You don’t know what he’s like. What he’s done.”
I look right back at her. “I do know what he’s done.” I turn my head and look at Sablo, who’s missing a tongue. My eyes flick to Gwyn, whose little Anya was tortured. “I’ve heard a lot of stories about what he’s done.”
“This isn’t why I came,” Rian snaps.
“We don’t need a decoy for Oren,” says Gwyn. “We just need a location so we can lay a trap.”
“You don’t?” I demand. “You think he won’t send a scout to make sure you really have a prisoner? You have one chance to get him, and you’re not going to lay the most perfect trap you can?”
Rian is glaring at me, but that gets him. A muscle twitches in his jaw. “I don’t need you. I have my own people.”
“Why risk one of your own people?” I demand. “If I die, you lose nothing.”
“And if I succeed?” he says. “You clearly want something.”
“Yes,” I say. “I want passage back to Kandala. If Oren is out of the way, there’s nothing stopping you.”
He considers this for a minute. Then he nods. “Done. I’ll arrange it. Miss Cade, we’ll see you in two days at dawn. Be ready.”
