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“The most important one was to never stop eating. If food’s put in front of you, you eat it. If water’s there, you drink it. Wasting food only spites yourself. Being weak only helps your captors.” He pauses, and his voice is grave. “If you’re breathing, you’re alive. If you’re alive, there’s still hope. Don’t undo it on your own.”
But I can’t. I need to figure out a way to return to Kandala. I need to tell the king what happened to his brother. I need to tell Karri what happened to Lochlan. And I can’t leave Erik either.
I truly do want to help all of you.” I glance at the others. “Sometimes helping takes time.”
“The pay. The prince paid a lot. You gave us a week in a cell. Wes isn’t your errand boy. If you don’t like Lina, pay up, or kill her yourself.”
“Touch me again,” I say, “and he won’t have to pay me a cent.”
“I’m going to force-feed you this coin in a second—” “Don’t threaten me with a good time, Lochlan.”
After speaking to the tailors, I find myself thinking that perhaps Rian truly was working in earnest for his people. He simply went about it in the wrong way.” Lochlan shrugs and finishes the apple. “Sounds familiar, Weston Lark.”
I promised her I would be better, and here I am, on a mission to do my worst.
Then again, Rian was already angry that someone sent brigantine ships after us. He said he considered that an act of war—right before he said he was going to hold me for ransom and use me against Harristan. So this is probably fine.
They sound so friendly and kind that I want to climb back up those stairs, untie those suspenders from Edward, and throw myself out the broken window.
It was just another type of armor. I didn’t realize it at the time, but Quint was sending me into battle, fully prepared.
But still. This feels like discovering he used to kick puppies or steal from children.
My parents risked themselves—and they died. I risked myself—and I was caught.
“But that’s what I mean about how we all come from a different place. We don’t really know until we . . . know.”
“I’m going to break all the toys before you get there,” Rocco says. “I’m going to break your face when I get there,” the boy calls back.
But he doesn’t look ready to fight, and I hate it. I hate that he looks as kind and thoughtful as he did on board his ship. I hate that he looks like he cares that I’m here, that he’s relieved that I’m here. I hate that his eyes are full of concern and worry.
The citizens of your country are being poisoned by Moonflower, and you say I set everyone up to fail? Why is it all right for your prince to lie and cheat and steal to protect his people, but you hold me to a different standard?
Corrick was also to blame for a lot of what went wrong. So am I.
“If you boil the stems,” says Gwyn. “It causes the fever and the cough. Too much, and it can be downright debilitating. That’s how we kept Bella subdued for so long.”
The Queen’s River, which starts at the northern tip of Kandala, just like the Flaming River. The northern tip of Kandala, coincidentally home to the two sectors where the Moonflower grows. Where the “cure” was discovered. I stare at the map. Maybe every sector doesn’t have access to fresh water. “They’re putting it in the water,” I say in horror.
“I’m certainly not going to sit in that house waiting around for some man to decide my fate. If I’m stuck here, I’m going to make myself useful.”
He’s probably as lonely as I am. He and Corrick were always close. A part of me envied that, especially once I learned that my brother had Tessa as well. I never had anyone.
“Prince Corrick never fails to take action in the moment, but you always look out for the entire kingdom.
I don’t know how he has the talent to annoy me to no end—and then sit beside me in the dark and offer encouragement so offhandedly.
I feel flushed and uncertain and off-balance, and I haven’t felt like this since . . . I don’t know when.
Like my heart got twisted up with my imagination. Over Quint, of all people.
But before the door falls closed, I notice Quint flip open the little book, just turning back the cover to that list of dates. At the bottom, he adds one more.
I couldn’t ask them to risk their lives if I’m not willing to risk my own.
Are we going to argue over semantics again, Quint? If it pleases you. He’s infuriating. I’m glad he remained behind.
I don’t want to consider that the measures Corrick put in place to protect the people from smugglers have started to have the opposite effect—that the night patrol is taking matters into their own hands. That they’re being cruel because we’ve created the illusion that we approve of cruelty.
I help, and I try not to think about the fact that my sole remaining guard and this boy are putting themselves in harm’s way to protect me. I hope the choices I’ve made so far are worth it.
He left us like this. Do they feel like I abandoned them? Like I was poisoning my subjects, then abandoned the most loyal ones to starve?
No, if I had that power, I’d reverse time and begin my entire reign again.
Francis is on his feet, too, staring at me. He’s got a hand clutching his side. I can’t read his expression, and I don’t want to. I can’t decide which is the most humiliating: knowing he watched me kill someone, watched me cry over it, or watched me nearly vomit on the body.
He’s trying so hard to protect you, but you have to know it’s destroying him. I didn’t know it was like this. I watched it time and time again, but I didn’t know.
We came to fetch more guards, and now we’re going home with fewer people than we started with.
They’re wrong. I know they are. I’ve never poisoned anyone. I’ve never turned on my people.
Everything was terrible. Everything is terrible. But when our parents died, I had Corrick. Now, I have no one.
“Thorin and Saeth gave me a brief accounting of what happened,” he says gravely. “Do you want to talk about it?” Memories of the guards facing us in the clearing flash in my brain, and I shudder, then shake my head. “No.”
“And I’m not treating you like a child. I’m treating you like a man who’s been through hell and could do with a bit of gentle care.”
“But last night, you grabbed my book, and you looked quite disappointed when I didn’t grab it back.” Against my will, a flush crawls up my cheeks. Quint notices too much. I always forget that.
I seize the lapels of his jacket, and I press my mouth to his.
His hair is turning gold and his eyes won’t stop sparkling, and every part of my body wants to feel him against me again.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” he says quietly. “Obviously.” I suck in a sharp breath, and I suddenly want to pull back farther. “Obviously?” I demand. He startles. “What? Oh! No. Not obvious in that way. But if I may say, it’s rather charming that you would think I could tell—”
I’m the king, and my entire night was just ruined because of an act of betrayal. My entire life has been one long string of betrayals chased by pity.
I might be the only person who knows you better than your own brother.”
So you spend years of your life alone—years, Your Majesty, obviously—relying on the smallest moments of connection to survive, until tonight, when you finally relent and allow yourself a moment of happiness for one second.” His eyes are so fierce they could cut steel. “And then you cheapen it by calling it an act of pity, you insult me by treating me like a whore, and then you hurt me by calling it a mistake.”
But I think of the way he fetched the quilt. Or made the tea. The way he’s been at my side for a million little moments. The way I was broken and hurting and I tried to send him away—but he sat down and said no. The way his hands felt against my skin.
“Ah, but you are vexing,” I say. “Because I wanted to kiss you. I want to kiss you again.”
“I must be repaying some kind of penance, because I’ve been lusting after you for two years, yet on the day you finally kiss me, I am forced to have a ten-minute discussion each time we share breath.”
