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I inhale to say I can do it, but then I think better of it and give him what he asked for. He unrolls a long strip of cloth and slices through it neatly.
Quint watches this, then glances at me and back at the king. “You are the king,” he begins. “If I may—”
“I know who I am, Quint.” Harristan’s voice isn’t impatient, the way I’ve heard him before. He sounds . . . ?thoughtful. He lifts the edge of Quint’s shirt, and I wince as I get a closer look. An arrow cut straight across the side of his abdomen, causing a wound at least five inches long. I can’t tell how deep it is, but it’s bled enough to tell me that it won’t heal well without stitching. He’s probably right that exertion made it worse than it would’ve been.
Harristan rolls up the muslin to press it tightly against the wound, and Quint hisses a breath. But the king is quicker than I expect, and he wraps a length around Quint’s waist swiftly, holding the bandage in place. His fingers are sure and gentle as he overlaps it twice, before tying it off with a well-placed knot.
“You’re very good at that,” I say, and I mean it.
Harristan glances at me. “I was sickly as a child. I spent a great deal of time among the palace physicians.” He looks back at Quint. “That should hold until it can be treated properly.”
Quint’s expression flickers into a frown. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”
“Thank you. That arrow was meant for me.” Harristan says this as if it’s nothing, then rolls up the remaining muslin in his hands and looks at me. “Who else knows of this place?”
“The rebel Lochlan,” I say. “And the men who came with him.”
“And what do they want?” he says.
I stare at him. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“They have attacked the palace, Tessa.” He pauses. “What do they want from me? Do they want silver? Medicine? A full pardon?”
I think of all the people who were attacking Corrick. He was so sure that they’d use him against Harristan, but then they didn’t. They just wanted vengeance. “I don’t know who these Benefactors are, but the people just . . .” I swallow. “They want to stop dying.”
He looks away, and when he speaks, his voice is low. “I want that, too.”
I hear the truth behind every word. I’ve heard it since the first day I faced this man in the palace. I saw it in the way he patched up Quint’s wound. He and his brother have spent years doing what they felt they needed to do to survive, and they’ve been destroying themselves in the process.
“Corrick implicated Arella and Roydan,” says Quint.
The king runs a hand across his jaw. “Yes. He did. And while I can see Arella taking a radical stance, I can’t see Roydan going along with it. Then again, I can’t see the other consuls taking such a strong stance against me, and clearly they are.” He shakes his head. “I can’t stay here. I will not hide in the shadows while the sector burns.”
“You cannot return, Your Majesty,” says Quint. “It’s too dangerous.”
“I believe I’ve spent too much time allowing others to do what they think is best.” Harristan looks at me. “And what about you? Where do you stand?”
I stare back at him. “I want people to stop dying, too.”
“I can’t cure the fevers, Tessa. I would if I could.” He pauses. “Where would you be in this revolution, if my brother had not tricked you?”
Tricked. I take a breath and think of my last conversation with Weston Lark. My voice is soft yet strong as I say, “I’d be lighting the explosives myself.”
The king smiles, but it’s a little grim. “Far easier to start a war than to end one.” He pauses, his eyes skipping across my form in a way that’s coolly assessing. “These rebels tortured Corrick, but not you.”
I glare at him. “And you think I was somehow a part of it?”
“No.” He steps right up to me, and his eyes are as chilling as Corrick’s can be. “One day we will have a conversation that does not end in accusations,” he says. “What I mean is that they did not harm you.” He pauses. “They did not trust the King’s Justice. But they trust the outlaw Tessa.”
My breath catches. Yes. They do. I remember Earle’s gentle hand on my arm when Corrick was begging Lochlan to end his life quickly. Even Lochlan himself was gentler with me, having one of the men cut me loose after I got them to stop beating Corrick.
“What are you saying?” I whisper.
“I am saying that civil war will kill far more people than the fever ever could. I am certain my soldiers have already begun a defense. People are likely dying in the streets as we speak. On both sides. If I cannot restore order, this will spill outside the Royal Sector.” He pauses. “I have yielded to Consul Sallister’s demands for far too long. I have yielded to the demands of the elites for too long. I will hear from my people.”
I stare at him.
“I don’t know what I can promise,” he cautions. “Change is never quick or easy. But I would like to try. Will you help me?”
