I’m rarely called to the Hold when the sun is in the sky, and now it’s been twice in one week. It’s never a particularly pleasant place, but during the nights it’s usually cool, which keeps the odor manageable, and quiet, because even the most offensive criminals must sleep occasionally.
During the day, it’s hell.
“You really must do something about the smell,” Allisander says, a handkerchief masking his face as we walk through the gates.
Maybe it’s only hell because he’s here.
Or maybe it’s hell because I am. I should be in the palace. I should be watching over Tessa. I keep thinking of the way she tossed that glass of brandy at me, and I imagine her doing something similar to my brother.
It’s too easy to imagine. And despite all evidence to the contrary, I really am a lot more tolerant than Harristan is. Lord, Tessa.
“You haven’t said anything about the girl,” says Allisander.
e girl. I bristle at his dismissive tone, and it takes effort to hide it. e girl is brave. Brilliant. Strong. Compassionate. e girl does more for Kandala than the spoiled consul standing in front of me. “e young woman you assumed spent the night in my quarters?”
A guard steps forward to hold the door to the staircase.
“Well . . . yes,” says Allisander. “According to Arella, you were—”
“I know what Arella thinks I was doing, just as I know what you think I was doing.” I glare at him, and he has the grace to look surprised. “She was wrong. So are you.”
He stares at me over the handkerchief. “Rumors say she snuck into the palace to kill Harristan.”
ere’s an undercurrent of concern to his tone that makes me wonder, just for a moment, if the tiniest spark of their friendship remains. But then he
adds, “She could have been working with the smugglers I captured, and now you’ve allowed her access to the king.”
Ah. Of course. I keep my eyes forward and stride down the stairs. “She’d hardly be alive right now if that were true.”
He’s all but hissing at me behind his handkerchief. “Well, it’s certainly not commonplace for you to bring a smuggler to your room—”
“Consul, I hope you didn’t drag me to the Hold before breakfast for a discussion we could have had in the palace.” We reach the bottom, and I glance at him. I need him to stop digging for information about Tessa—at least until I can nd out what she said to my brother. “Tell me about your prisoners.”
He huffs for a moment, like a discom ted toddler. “Well. ey struck in the Wilds. We had six wagons full between Lissa’s shipment and my own.
ere were dozens of them, all at once.”
I stop short in the nal hallway before the turn into the lowest level. A lone lantern hangs from the wall here, ickering shadows across Allisander’s cheeks. ere isn’t much that could drag my thoughts away from Tessa, but that does it. “Dozens?” I say. “Your supply run was attacked by dozens?”
“Yes. Far more than the small pack you unearthed from Steel City.” He coughs, and he must be grimacing behind the handkerchief. “We couldn’t capture them all, of course. And lord knows how many parcels they were able to escape with—”
“You don’t keep an inventory?”
“Of course we do. But they set one of the wagons on re—” “On re?”
“Yes. ey had aming arrows. Torches. ey were organized, and they must have known we were coming. We just authorized this shipment two days ago, and because of its size, few people knew we were coming.” He makes a disgusted noise. “I knew those rst eight wouldn’t be the end of it.
ere must be hundreds more, waiting to destroy our supply runs. ey endanger all of Kandala, Corrick. ey must be stopped.”
“I agree.” And I do. If Allisander and Lissa are spooked, they’ll stop making shipments at all. Or they’ll require the sectors to spend money and manpower they can’t spare to come get medicine themselves. I wonder if any of the prisoners were those who escaped during the riot. “I’ll question them. We’ll unearth what’s happening.”
“Good.”
We turn the corner. e smell is worse down here than usual. It’s quieter, too. For midmorning, I was expecting shouts and curses to be coming from the cells, but no one is talking. Four guards are stationed down here, and they nod to me, but they look . . . bored. I stop at the rst set of bars and peer inside.
A young woman lies on the oor, facing the rear wall. I see brown hair
rst, in a messy pile beside her head. I’m so used to watching for Tessa among the smugglers that are dragged to the Hold, so for an instant, my stomach clenches. It’s not her. I know it’s not. It can’t be.
is woman doesn’t look quite right anyway. She’s older than Tessa, with beige skin a few shades darker. Her jaw is bruised heavily, her lips cracked and bleeding. A y alights on her mouth and she doesn’t inch—meaning she’s unconscious or asleep. One arm seems twisted at an unnatural angle.
I can’t shake the tension in the pit of my stomach.
I say nothing and move to the next cell. A man this time, easily in his thirties. Eyes closed, his nose crooked and crusted with blood. His clothes are torn and stained crimson in so many areas that I can’t tell where his injuries originated. Both arms are de nitely broken.
My jaw tightens.
Next cell. Another man, this time in his twenties. Broken, bloody, and bruised. Also unconscious. His leg is broken.
Next cell. A third man, even older. His beard is speckled with gray. e side of his face is awash with bruises and swelling, and it looks like his eye is crusted shut with blood.
A woman is in the next cell, her breathing rough and ragged. Her face is dirty but unharmed, and her feet are bare and bleeding. She’s also pregnant. While I’m standing there, her eyes utter open, and she coughs against the straw-covered oor. She sees me watching her, and I wait for fear to bloom in her eyes.
It doesn’t. Resignation does. “I gured dying here would be quicker than the fever,” she croaks, then blinks slowly.
Allisander said they were organized, that this was a planned attack, but none of these people look like organized criminals. I wonder if they’re all sick.
“We’ll make sure it’s more painful,” says Allisander. He kicks at the ground, sending a cloud of dust and grit rattling into the cell.
e woman coughs again, then spits blood onto the stone oor. “I gured.
You proved that when we surrendered.”
It takes a moment for the impact of that to sink in. I turn and look at Allisander. “ey surrendered?”
“Of course. We had a heavy contingent of guards. Once we realized what we were under attack, we were able to corner half of them. ough most were able to escape into the Wilds.”
e woman smiles, blood on her lips. “anks to the Benefactors, you’ll see them again.”
I freeze. I remember the shouts during the riot in front of the gates. “Who are the Benefactors?”
Her eyes fall closed.
Allisander slams a hand against the bars. “You will talk.” She doesn’t.
Allisander inhales as if he’s going to spew more vitriol, but she’s not going to talk, and he won’t be satis ed unless I start creating nightmares to get answers. I’ll do it if I have to, but not for his private indulgence. I head for the next cell. Allisander shuts his mouth and follows. Another man this time. He’s sitting upright in the corner, cradling his wrist in his lap, but his eyes are heavy-lidded. He’s pale and sweating, his breathing a little too quick. With a start, I realize he’s a man Tessa and I used to bring medicine to.
His name is Jarvis, and he has a pretty wife named Marlea. I wonder if I’ll
nd her in one of the cells. ey live in Artis, just outside the Wilds, and he works as a bricklayer while she mends clothes. He’s large and thick with muscle, but he’s also one of the most gentle men I’ve ever met. While most of the people who rely on us for medicine are quick to condemn the king—and me—Jarvis was one who’d always say, “I’m sure the man is doing the best he can.”
I can’t see him attacking a supply run.
en again, I couldn’t see Tessa sneaking into the palace either.
Tessa. Tension’s grip on my insides grows even tighter. I look at the consul. “If they surrendered, why are they all so heavily injured?”
He cocks an eyebrow, like we’re brothers-in-arms and I’ll nd all this amusing. “Does it matter?”
I don’t play. “Yes.”
What I can see of his face turns serious. I want to rip the handkerchief away. “Why?” he says.
“Because I can’t question prisoners who are barely conscious.” I pause. “My guards know that. If someone surrenders, they’re brought to the Hold. Unharmed. Did you give them different orders?”
Allisander hesitates. He’s trying to read my face.
I don’t give him the chance. I look to a guard stationed by the wall. “Stanton. Have the prison doctor treat their wounds. Feed them all. I’ll return late this evening.”
He nods. “Yes, Your Highness.”
Allisander has nally lowered that handkerchief. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am,” I say. “If you want information, they need to be in a condition to give it.” I turn for the stairs.
He’s not following me. “First you bring an assassin to your room, and now you’re caring for prisoners? Why isn’t that girl down here in a cell, too, Corrick?”
I ignore him and look at Stanton again. “Have the guards who were assigned to the supply run report to the palace. I’d like to speak with them.”
en I step close to Allisander, and I shove every thought of Tessa out of my head. I send my thoughts to the dark place that reminds me of how I felt aer my parents were killed in front of me. “Would you like me to prove that I haven’t turned so, Consul?”
My voice is cold, but he doesn’t back down. He may have been friends with Harristan, but his relationship with me has always been a bit more politically weighted. I sometimes think he avoids my brother, as if their standoff from so many years ago still stings, but he and I have always met on a level playing eld. But now he looks like he wants to challenge me, and that is unlike him. I wonder how much gossip is already swirling in regard to Tessa. I wonder if the fact that prisoners escaped during the riots is being seen as a weakness on my part. I wonder if I’m going to be forced to do something terrible, just to quiet the rumors.
Without warning, my thoughts summon the image of Tessa on the oor of my room, shaking and terri ed. Her thoughts are always of the people. Mine are too, but not the way hers are. She used to look at Weston—at me—
with such devotion. I didn’t deserve a moment of it then, and I deserve it less now.
e thought comes as a blow.
Something must icker in my expression, something that exposes a ash of vulnerability or weakness, because Allisander steps forward and says, “Yes, Corrick. I would.”
“Very well. You are banned from the palace until you can remember that I am King’s Justice, and you are Consul of Moonlight Plains. You will not countermand my orders with guards I provided for your protection, and you will not—”
“You cannot ban me from the palace.” He looks like he wants to knock me into the wall.
“Shall I nd you a cell among your friends? ey seem crowded. Perhaps you could share.”
His hands have formed sts, and his eyes are cold. “No,” he says through gritted teeth.
I raise my eyebrows.
“No,” he says again, “Your Highness.”
“Remember that,” I snap. “Yours is not the only sector with the Moon ower.” I turn and head for the stairs without waiting to see if he follows or not.
 |
I’ve been waiting for Harristan for twenty minutes, and I’m about ready to tear the wallpaper from the walls. Instead, I’m looking at stacks of paperwork that are accumulating in front of me: detailed accountings of each sector’s medicinal allotment, along with the most recent census per town, as well as death records and health records and crime records. More information than I could ever care to need.
“What is all this?” I ask a page as he carries yet another stack into my quarters.
“By order of the king, Your Highness,” he says, before offering a quick bow and leaving the room—just to reappear minutes later with more. He looks at the laden table doubtfully.
I want to tell him to toss it all in the replace.
“Just stack it on the oor,” I say.
I sent word to Quint, hoping he’d bustle through my doorway with information about Tessa’s meeting with my brother, but apparently he’s been dealing with some kind of issue with the kitchen staff.
I have no idea what Harristan is doing—or why he’d send me all this. I sent word to him, too, and my brother’s response was a terse, “Later.”
I move to the side table and pour a glass of wine.
e page returns with another stack. Lord. I pour the wine back into the bottle and switch to brandy.
I enjoy details, and I’m not opposed to digging through mountains of documents, but this . . . this is a bit much. I’m not even sure of the purpose.
I want to send word to Tessa, but I can’t think of anything to say that won’t be read and gossiped about—and I need to know how her meeting with Harristan went so I can decide how I want our interactions to be viewed.
I also can’t stop thinking about these Benefactors, and what that means. Is someone behind these attacks, these raids? For the people to take such a risk would require funding of some sort. Or medicine. Otherwise the risk to the people is simply too great.
If these attacks continue, Allisander will slow his shipments. e risk to Kandala is too great.
On my nal night as Weston Lark, I asked Tessa if she knew who they were, and she didn’t. She wouldn’t have lied to Wes. I wish we’d had one more night, one more chance to talk to the people.
But of course I’ve undone any chance of that.
I drag my hands through my hair. I’m exhausted, and it’s hardly the middle of the aernoon.
When the page appears with more, I snap, “Enough.” He inches and almost drops them all.
I sigh. “Put them on the oor. I’ll send for you when I’ve reviewed what you’ve brought.”
In a year, most likely.
Finally, an agonizing hour later, the guards announce my brother. Aer the way he made me wait, I expect him to come storming in, but instead, Harristan strides into my room casually, letting the door fall closed behind him.
“Corrick.” He takes one look at the stacks of folios and paperwork and frowns. “What’s all this?”
“You tell me.” I take a sip of my drink. “It was sent here by your order.” “Oh. Yes. e girl claims our dosages in the Royal Sector are too high.
Will you see if we have data that may corroborate this? e palace physicians are looking into it, but you’re better with all this.” He waves a hand at the piles.
Meaning he doesn’t have the patience—or the time—for it. I don’t either, really. My heart is thumping at what Tessa told him. “And when would you like this analysis?”
He eases into the chair across from me and lis the cover on a folio before letting it fall closed. “Tomorrow.”
I choke on my drink. “An entire day, Harristan? Why not in an hour?”
“I will not have her staying in the palace if her reasons for being here are not valid.”
I set my drink down and stare at him. He stares back at me.
Last night, in the quiet darkness of his quarters, he said that I was keeping secrets from him—but he didn’t demand answers. He doesn’t demand them now either. But his position is clear.
I am both surprised and not that Tessa was able to somehow convince my brother that her reasons for being in the palace were valid. Not just valid, but . . . bene cial.
“I’ll go through the reports,” I say quietly.
“Good.” He reaches for my glass of brandy and takes a sip. “You do realize you can’t ban Allisander from the palace inde nitely.”
I grimace. “I didn’t realize the news would reach you so quickly.” “He issued a complaint almost immediately.”
“From the palace steps, I imagine.”
Harristan doesn’t smile. “As a matter of fact, yes.” He hesitates. “Even if our dosages are faulty, we cannot alienate our primary supplier.”
“Allisander grows too bold.”
“For all of Arella’s demands for leniency, her sector is not a major supplier for Kandala. Nor is Roydan’s.”
I know this. He knows I know this. He sets the glass on the table and I take it. “Stringing people up outside the gates hasn’t stopped the smugglers,” I say. “If anything, they grow bolder.”
“For certain. ey sneak right into the palace and nd themselves in my brother’s room.”
I drain the glass and look away. “Lord, Harristan.”
For a moment, I think he’s going to press me for more information. My brother is no fool. He knows there’s more to Tessa than what I’ve said. He admitted as much last night.
But he simply glances at the papers and stands. “You have much to do.” He claps me on the shoulder before turning for the door. “I’ll take care of Allisander.”
“ank you.”
I can’t say it aloud, but I’m thanking him for more than just handling an irritated consul. I’m thanking him for his trust. For allowing me to keep my secrets.
For allowing me to protect Tessa.
He knows it, too, because he offers a small smile. “You’re welcome, Cory.”
en his smile is gone, and he’s reaching for the door.
