We end up in Ford Cheeke’s office, standing around a long table. I think we’re all still too tense to sit. The room is warm and smells faintly of tobacco smoke. Ford is clearly an organized man, because the room is neat as a pin, not a paper or book out of place. The bookcases that line the back wall of the room are so perfectly ordered that I’d be hesitant to remove a book. Even the ledgers and papers on his desk seem arranged with precision.
We had a brief moment of worry when two of the guards from out front did come to investigate Penny’s scream. Ford urged us to hide in a storage closet, so Lochlan and I tucked ourselves into the space, leaving the door only slightly ajar so we could hear.
“We might have just trapped ourselves,” Lochlan breathed at me. “You’d better hope he believes you.”
“I’m not killing an innocent man just to get home,” I whispered back.
But then I stood stock-still while sweat gathered in the small of my back, and I wondered if I’d made the biggest mistake of all. If Ford and Penny turned us over to the guards, there would’ve been no telling where we’d end up.
But we stood and listened as Penny told them she’d only screamed because a mouse had burst out of the closet. The guards had rolled their eyes and left.
Penny went to untie Edward, who’s joined us in the office. Now the three of them are at one end of the table, staring at me and Lochlan a little warily.
Ford glances at his companions in a way that tells me there must have been private conversations during the time Lochlan and I were hiding in the closet. Then he clears his throat.
“If you wouldn’t be opposed, Your Highness, before we get to your request, I would like to attempt to verify your identity.”
“How are you going to do that?” demands Lochlan, and they all pull back a little.
Honestly. He’s so brusque. If anyone needs a governess with a switch, it’s him. I shoot him a glare, then lift a hand, placating. “It’s fine. I understand their caution.”
“Thank you,” says Ford. “My report that said you were . . . ah, dead, also claimed that warships from Kandala followed the Dawn Chaser and attacked on the open sea. So we’re a bit wary of a trick. After your rather violent entrance.”
“Those brigantines sank,” I say. “But again, I’ll answer what questions you have.”
Edward moves to the bookcase and puts a finger against his lips, surveying the contents. After a moment, he stoops to withdraw a slim volume from a low shelf. He flips it open and scans a page, then moves close to Penny. He’s got quite a bruise on his jaw, and I refrain from wincing. He and Penny engage in a rushed whispered conversation, hastily flipping pages.
Lochlan leans close. “What are they going to do, quiz you on Kandalan history?”
I have no idea. I surely hope not. Would they have books on Kandalan history here? Would they be accurate?
Penny finally looks up. “What was your maternal grandmother’s middle name?”
Well, that takes me by surprise. I blink, then think about it. “Ah . . . Annabel.”
“Excellent!” says Edward, as if I’m a prize pupil and didn’t knock him flat twenty minutes ago. He really does remind me of a much older Quint. “Your paternal great-grandfather. What was his fourth name?”
I honestly can’t believe this is my quiz, but I’ll take it. I mentally work backward through the family tree.
“Are you counting on your fingers?” Lochlan mutters.
“What’s your paternal great-grandfather’s fourth name?” I say under my breath. I look at the others. “Druvil.”
Penny takes the book. “Ooh! Your great-great-grandmother had a sister, and she actually had six names, which is quite a lot, even for royalty—”
“I think that’s enough,” says Ford, and he gives his daughter a bit of a withering glance. He moves to the bookcase and selects an even larger book, and I wonder if I’m going to be forced to list the pets of my uncles or something—but Ford then reaches behind it. He must press a latch or turn a lever, because we all hear a click.
After a moment, he withdraws a folded slip of paper, and he unfolds it carefully. He glances at it, then back at me. “Name the individuals you brought on the ship with you—and what happened to them.”
“Myself, Tessa Cade, and Lochlan Cresswell.” I gesture at Lochlan. “In addition to three guards from Kandala: Erik Rocco, Liam Kilbourne, and Matthew Silas.” I pause, and my voice turns grave. “Matthew Silas was lost at sea when the brigantines attacked. Liam Kilbourne was killed by the crew. Erik Rocco was injured in the fight. I don’t know if he survived.” I hesitate. “Tessa . . .” My voice trails off, and I frown. My heart is suddenly pounding, because until this moment, I hadn’t considered that Ford Cheeke might be a source of information that might benefit us as well.
Tessa.
I glance at the letter, which I’m assuming came from Rian himself. My voice goes very quiet. “If you know this much about our journey, I’m very hopeful you have word of where she ended up.”
Ford considers this, then glances at the others. “Put the book away, Penny.” He slips the letter back into its hiding place, then gestures to the chairs. “Please. Sit.”
We do.
Ford wastes no time. “Tessa Cade and Erik Rocco are both alive. They safely made it to Fairde.”
A tightness in my chest seems to ease and tighten simultaneously. “So they’re with your king.”
“The letter didn’t specify, but it would stand to reason that they are. I have a skiff departing at dawn tomorrow.” He moves to his desk and pulls a slip of parchment from a drawer, followed by an ink pen. “I’ll send word at once that you’ve survived—”
“No,” I say.
He stops short and draws himself up. “No?”
“Your king lied about his identity and tricked me into journeying to Ostriary. I have no interest in escaping one man’s manipulation and being traded for another’s.”
All three of them exchange a glance. “Manipulation?” says Edward.
“Did Kandala not agree to barter for steel?” says Penny.
But Ford’s gaze is more appraising. “Does this have anything to do with why you were ready to cut my throat upon arrival?”
“Quite a lot,” Lochlan says dryly.
“The only reason we survived was because Oren Crane’s people fished us out of the water,” I say, and Penny gasps. Her hand goes to the burn scars at her neck.
“He’s kept us prisoner until dawn yesterday,” I say. “We convinced him to let us go temporarily. He believes Lochlan is a Kandalan spy and I am an assassin. He gave us a task to prove our roles, because he believes we want vengeance against Rian for letting Prince Corrick die. But he expects us back at dawn.” I pause, studying Ford across the table. “And I’m not sure how he’ll proceed once it becomes clear that we did not succeed.”
He studies me right back, and his eyes are piercing. “So you’ve aligned yourself with Oren Crane?”
“I’m trying to stay alive until I can find a way to bring my people back to Kandala, Master Cheeke.”
“What was your task?” says Edward.
Before I can answer, Ford does it for me. “To kill me.”
I nod. “He believes you have a secret way to pass messages to your king.”
Ford gives a little humorless laugh. “Secret. I suppose to a man like Oren, the matter of detail and precision might seem like a secret. Everything that passes through this harbor is weighed and measured and recorded in this office. Every letter, every parcel, every piece of freight. The sender, the receiver, the weight. I and my people are known for our accuracy, Your Highness.” He gestures toward the hallway. “If you wanted to, you could find the details for a pallet of firewood shipped to Roshan ten years ago. Third room on the left, I believe.”
“So there are no secret messages?” says Lochlan.
“None at all.” Ford tugs at his jacket and spreads his hands. “But I am getting older. Perhaps I miss a few things here and there.”
Fascinating.
I eye those scars along his skin, remembering the way he said his daughter had gone through enough. “Has Oren Crane tried to torture this information out of you in the past?” I say.
He nods. “His people have. Lina is particularly vicious.” His eyes flick to his daughter, and she shudders.
“We’ve met Mouse, too,” says Lochlan.
Ford shakes his head. “Mouse wasn’t always that way. He used to work on the docks. Moving the heavy loads. A lot of dockworkers are on Crane’s payroll, but Mouse refused to work for Crane once everyone started trying to rebuild. Crane sent Lina after him, and I heard she and her henchmen threw bricks at his head until he stopped moving—but it didn’t kill him. It just broke his mind. When he eventually woke up, Lina convinced him that he worked for Crane all along.”
I didn’t think I could hate Lina any more.
“So there’s truly no other details about sending secret messages you can share?” I say to him.
“No. I simply don’t track certain missives.”
That seems a little too deliberately vague, and I’ve spent too many hours questioning prisoners who spin the truth to avoid execution. I raise an eyebrow. “For certain people, surely.”
Ford’s eyes narrow. “You broke in here to kill me, and you haven’t offered a clear indication as to whether you’re working with or against the people of Ostriary.” He folds his arms. “Kandala has quite the sour history with our country, so I believe I’ve said all I’m willing to say, Your Highness.”
“If your king had been forthright,” I say, “my motives would be crystal clear. Rian presented an opportunity to help Kandala in exchange for steel—and I boarded his ship with the intent to begin negotiations. Instead, he lied about his identity, killed my guards, and told me that someone is poisoning my country. I’m trapped here with no way home. I’ll work with whomever grants me the best options.” My voice turns sharp. “Right now, I rather doubt that’s your king.”
Lochlan leans toward me. “Not for nothing, but a few minutes ago, you did tell this guy you wanted his help.”
His voice was quiet, but Penny adds, “After breaking in and scaring us half to death.”
Edward nods. “Quite true. And while I’m glad to be alive, you do strike quite a blow, Your Highness.”
Lord.I run my hands across my face and wish I could undo so much about the last few weeks.
Honestly, so much about the last few years.
“Ostriary spent a great deal of time at war,” Ford says. “Many of the islands have only just begun to rebuild. You did say you wanted my help, but if you’re going to align yourself with Oren Crane to tear it all down again, please tell me now.”
I don’t want adversaries, but it seems like that’s all I’m good at making.
Harristan is really better at keeping things congenial. The night we first met Rian, I thought we were going to come to blows across the dinner table, but my brother kept cutting through the tension with quiet ease.
But memories of that moment help me stop and think.
“I don’t want any part of your war,” I say. “I’ve already seen evidence of what Crane has done. But he did indicate that he has eyes all over Silvesse. Is that true?”
“Yes,” says Ford.
“Then I have no doubt his people have been trailing us all day. If I leave here without completing this task, they’ll likely recapture us. They might be waiting outside right now.”
Penny and Edward exchange a worried glance.
“So I need something else to give him,” I say. “Something better.”
“If my options are to benefit Crane or to face my own death, you don’t want my help,” says Ford. “You mean to blackmail me.”
Edward leans toward Penny, and his voice is very soft, but I hear him. “It’s no wonder Kandala’s royal family has such a nefarious reputation.”
I let out a breath. I suppose this does look like that. I need to think.
As much as I hate Lochlan, he was good at strategizing when we were trapped in the cage—and our plan did get us away from Crane, at least for a short time. He might be terse and lacking in manners, but he was also able to organize a revolution and lead rebels into the Royal Sector.
So I look at him. “If we walk out of here, Crane’s people are going to be on top of us.”
He gives a short nod. “Yeah.”
“If they sneak us out of here, they’re going to send us to Rian, and that’s not better.”
“You’ve said.”
“Crane thinks Rian still has his daughter. Can we use that somehow?”
His eyebrows shoot up. “You’re asking me?”
“Yes,” I say. “I am.”
His mouth quirks up like he wants to be flippant, but then his gaze sharpens, and he frowns a little. He looks at Ford. “Why hasn’t Rian been able to get rid of Crane?”
“Too squirrelly. Too many allies.” Ford pauses. “Again, they’re all over Silvesse. On other islands, he doesn’t have a stronghold, but here, he does—and his allies are very loyal.”
I consider how he didn’t even come on land to talk to me. I wonder if he’s always on that ship. He certainly had a lot of people surrounding him. I wonder how many people Rian has. I doubt Ford will tell me.
Lochlan looks at me. “We could tell Crane that when we discovered the ‘secret’ messages, we learned where his daughter is being held—and we decided it wouldn’t be prudent to kill Ford in case that tipped off Rian.”
Ford looks alarmed. “But I have no idea where his daughter is being held. I don’t want Crane coming after me—”
“His daughter isn’t being held anywhere,” I say. “She’s dead.”
My words drop like a rock.
“Oh,” says Ford.
I look back at Lochlan. “But that’s a good idea. It would also motivate him to sail to Fairde to rescue her—especially if we said Rian was hiding her.”
Ford is glaring at me. “And how is this not leading an assault on our king?”
I glare right back at him. “Because you’re going to send him a warning of exactly when and where this ‘rescue’ is taking place, and you’re going to tell him that Prince Corrick of Kandala handed him his primary rival on a silver platter, and I expect restitution in the form of a return journey to my home country.”
Ford turns this around in his head, and I’m sure he sees all the same places this can go wrong that I do. This plan is full of holes that I’m going to need to fill in later, but it’s more than we had an hour ago.
“What if Crane doesn’t believe you?” he says.
“Then I’m no worse off than I am right now.” I glance around the table. “And you’re all still alive.”
“You’re going to need to return here,” Ford says. “If he believes you, this will take some arranging. I can’t snap my fingers and instantly receive a response from our king. How will you convince Crane that you need to come back?”
That almost throws me. It’s a good question, and my thoughts are spinning.
But then I have a solution, and once the idea comes to me, it’s so obvious that it shouldn’t have taken me any time at all.
“Don’t worry.” For the first time in what feels like weeks, I smile. “I have an idea.”
I was right. Crane’s people jump us before we get far. We’re dragged into an alley and shoved up against a wall.
I find myself glaring at Lina and Mouse. Lina’s got her hands on her hips like she’s the leader of this little pack, while Mouse stands off to the side like a wounded-yet-trained bear, waiting for orders.
Two of the men are pinning me against a brick wall, but Lina draws a dagger and puts it right against my throat. I feel the bite of the blade and then a trickle of blood, but she doesn’t press any harder, and I refuse to flinch.
“I knew you’d fail,” she says. “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t kill you right now.”
“The fact that you’ll never forget that I could have killed you with my bare hands, but you need two people to hold me down while you do it with a knife.”
She growls in rage, then spits right in my face.
“Well, that’s horrific,” I say, clenching my eyes closed. “I might have preferred the knife.”
“I can do it with my bare hands,” she says. Then she punches me right in the stomach.
My eyes are still closed, so I take the hit fully. It knocks the wind out of me. The only thing holding me upright is the grip these men have on my arms.
“If you beat him to death,” Lochlan says, “then Crane won’t get his daughter back.”
She punches me again and I see stars. I’m choking on air.
“Fine,” says Lochlan. He sounds bored. “I’ll tell Crane it was your fault.”
“Lina,” says Mouse worriedly. “Lina.”
“They’re lying.”
I fight for air and barely succeed. “We’re not,” I gasp. “That’s—that’s why—”
“That’s why we couldn’t kill Ford Cheeke,” Lochlan finishes for me. “He knows where Redstone is hiding Bella.”
Lina has her fist drawn back, ready for another punch, but Mouse catches her arm. She’s breathing hard and spitting mad, but Mouse isn’t looking at her, he’s looking at me.
“Is that true?” he says.
I nod. “Yes, Mouse,” I wheeze. “It’s true.”
Lina tries to tug her arm free. “You let me go, Mouse, or I’m going to carve my name into your back.”
He looks at her. “Stop hitting him, Lina. Oren needs to know first.”
She glares at him, but one of the men pinning my arms to the bricks says, “He’s right, Li. Oren needs to know.”
She swears. “Fine. Bring them.”
The ship is black in the moonlight, only a few lanterns hung from the masts. Now I have an ache in my gut to go along with my sore ankle. At least I was able to wipe Lina’s spit from my eyes.
It’s clear that Lina doesn’t believe us when she announces our arrival to Oren and anyone on deck to listen.
“They didn’t kill Cheeke,” she says, sounding exasperated. “They didn’t even have anything with them. They completely failed, and now they’re making up a story about Bella so you don’t hang them.”
“What story?” says Oren.
“We broke in,” I say. “We met Cheeke and his people.” I pause and look around at the other sailors. “While Lina might like to leave people in a pile of broken bones, Lochlan and I find it’s easier to get information with a little bit of sophistication and grace. What we discovered was too important, so we were returning to you for further orders.”
I say “orders” deliberately, offering Oren Crane the power here. I see the flicker in his eyes as it registers.
“Ask your people,” I continue. “We didn’t even resist when they dragged us into the alley.”
Oren studies me, looking for a lie.
But there isn’t one.
Mouse offers, “They didn’t fight, Mr. Crane. They asked us to bring them to you.”
“You still haven’t told me what you’ve learned about my daughter,” says Oren.
I nod. “Ford has received letters from Redstone that indicated he still has Bella held captive.”
That flicker in his eyes turns into a gleam. “Where?”
“In his palace. But he would obviously move her to a new location if he thought you were planning a rescue.”
“Then how does that help me?” Oren demands.
“I could leak false information to Ford Cheeke,” I say. “Tell him that you’re planning a rescue—and find out where they’re moving her. Then you could plan a real rescue that they’re not expecting.”
“Why would you help me?” says Oren.
“Why wouldn’t I help you?” I say. “As I’ve said before, Galen Redstone killed my prince and tricked my king.” It takes no effort to insert fury into my tone. “You think I can’t wait to cut his throat, too? I’ll do anything I can to help you. I’ll even rescue her myself if you want—though I’m sure she’d rather see her father’s face as her savior.”
Those words hit their mark, too.
Lina practically explodes. “Why would Ford Cheeke tell you any of this?” she demands. “You broke in to kill him. This has to be a lie.”
Oren turns his gaze back to me and Lochlan. Some of that spark in his eyes dims. “Indeed. Explain that, Weston Lark.”
“Oh, that’s not who I said I was,” I say. “I told Mr. Cheeke that Weston Lark drowned in the attack.”
Lochlan nods and claps me on the shoulder. “It was very tragic. I’m so sorry for your loss.”
Oren is studying me now, and he looks like he can’t decide whether to be angry or amused. “Then who does he think you are?”
“He believes I’m Prince Corrick of Kandala,” I say. “And we desperately need his help to reach the king.”
