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Harristan looks from Corrick to Rocco. “What happened? Why are you here?”
“Allisander came to my cell. He said he plans to force you to make an example of me, or he and the other consuls will stand against you. He says he has enough of a force to pull it off.”
The king’s expression darkens. “He grows too bold.”
“I agree. Which is why he’s locked in a cell.”
“Corrick! You cannot—”
“This is beyond bold, Harristan. This is revolution, and it’s coming from all sides. I don’t know who he’s working with, but he’s talking about an attempt to remove you from power. The rebels in the Wilds have explosives from Trader’s Landing. We have no idea how they were able to get enough into the sector to attack the Hold, which means they could attack any other part of the sector, including the palace. We have no idea which consuls will ally with Sallister—or if they would even stand with us against a rebellion.”
I glance between him and the king. “You said Consul Sallister has his own army.”
“He does,” says Harristan. “Consul Marpetta has quite a force protecting Emberridge as well, but Lissa has always seemed content with the status quo.” He looks at Quint. “Which consuls are in the palace?”
“Nearly all of them,” says Quint. “Lissa Marpetta is the only one who returned to her sector.”
“The people of Artis are struggling,” I say. “I don’t know of any military force, and when I worked for Mistress Solomon, we would have heard of such a thing.”
“He wanted silver for a bridge,” says Corrick. “Allisander said we should have granted it. Remember when you told me that in public is all that matters? You were talking about me and Allisander—but I think they’re pretending to hate each other. I think Jonas is working with him.”
The king looks at him. “But they do—” He breaks off with a cough. His fingers grip the edge of the table.
All the men exchange a glance, and Harristan doesn’t miss it. He glares at Corrick. “Stop it. I’ve told you before, I don’t need—” He coughs again.
“Here,” I say. I seize the teapot and pour hot water into a china cup, then add honey. I don’t have a scale, but I toss a few petals into the mortar bowl to grind them up. But as soon as I see the petals against the stone, I hesitate.
Harristan coughs again.
“Tessa,” says Corrick.
“Hold on. I need to think.” I glance up, surveying the array of food. There are no vallis lilies this time, but there are sprigs of thyme on the edge of one of the platters.
I shake the petals out onto the dark tablecloth, grind the thyme, and add it to the cup with the honey. “Here,” I say to Harristan. “Drink that.” Then I look back at the white petals.
“What are you doing?” says Corrick.
“The petals are different.” I quickly divvy them up. “Look.” I point. “Those are clearly Moonflower. Those are . . . ?I’m not sure.”
“They are very similar,” says Quint. Even Rocco draws close for a look.
“The petals were like this in the rebel camp, too,” I say. I feel like I’m close to figuring something out, but I’m not quite there. “The ones they would have gotten from the Benefactors.”
Corrick’s expression is grave. “Or the ones they would have gotten from stolen shipments.” He pauses. “They’re very close, Tessa. This could be a growing anomaly, or—”
“No! You were never the one to grind and measure. But there’s never been a . . . ?a growing anomaly.” I pause. “Corrick, you once said you never stole from the palace. Maybe—maybe—” My thoughts trip and stumble as I try to figure this out. “I need my books. My father used to keep track of new herbs.”
Harristan coughs again, but it’s not as strong. “What does this mean?”
“You drink the elixir here three times a day. What if . . .” My thoughts churn. “What if someone realized you don’t really need as much? If you were sickly as a child, maybe you really do need more to keep the fevers at bay, but if someone is tampering with your supply . . .” I let my voice trail off.
“Wake the consuls,” says Harristan. His voice is rough. “We need to determine which shipment these petals came from. We need to determine if the supply was contaminated, or if someone—”
A shout echoes from the hallway, and he freezes. Another shout, followed by a crash, and then splintering wood. Then a woman’s scream.
Harristan and Corrick exchange a glance. Rocco goes for the door.
An explosion rocks the palace, causing the floor to shake and the china to rattle. The lights flare with blinding brightness before dying altogether, plunging the room into sudden flickering shadows from the hearth. Shouts and screams erupt in the hallway before another explosion occurs, somehow closer, making the windows rattle.
