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I stare at him. “You—you were working with the rebels? To attack your own supply runs?”
“It was just a little bit of medicine here and there,” he says. “They’ll do anything for it, Corrick. It was easy, really, and they don’t—”
“But—” Maybe I’m too tired or too injured or too overwhelmed, but my brain can’t make sense of this. “But why?”
“Because Harristan wouldn’t pay a higher price if my shipments weren’t at risk.”
I have to take a step back from the bars.
I want to kill him myself.
“You did it for silver?” I demand.
“No. I did it because this time, I could force him to give me what I asked for.”
I freeze.
“I see the way you manipulate the consuls,” he says, “making us volley for funds. I saw it when I was a boy, when we asked for part of Lissa’s lands.”
“He was your friend, Allisander!”
“No. He was not my friend. A friend would not have humiliated me before half the nobility. A friend would have found a way to help me save face in front of my father. Harristan is no one’s friend, Corrick. Not even yours. Look at the way he left you in prison for an entire day.”
My fingers tighten on the bars.
“Do you know how much convincing it took for me to get him to accuse you?” he says. He leans in, his voice turning vicious. “It wasn’t much at all.”
I have to shake off the doubts he’s putting into my mind. I know my role here. I know what I’ve done.
I’m only beginning to clearly see what Allisander has done.
I think of the prisoners we were set to execute, the ones led by Lochlan. I kept saying they weren’t organized, because they weren’t. They were innocent people lured into smuggling by Allisander—a man who was urging their punishment from the other side.
He was giving silver and medicine to desperate people. He was urging them to rebel—right when they needed little urging. And he was giving them the means to do it.
I think of Tessa splitting the petals before the explosions in the palace. I put my hands over my mouth and try to force my brain to think.
“You weren’t even giving the rebels real medicine,” I say softly.
“Why would I risk real medicine?” he demands. “Lissa has been supplying it to the palace for years.”
I take a jolting step back. Lissa, who never demands anything. Lissa, who’s always happy to maintain the status quo.
Lissa, who stood in the salon and tried to convince me not to trust Tessa. It had nothing to do with her being a girl from the Wilds.
It had to do with knowledge, and information, and access to everything Lissa was doing wrong.
It’s just like Tessa said before the rebels attacked the palace. We’re not getting a full dosage. Of course we need to take it three times a day in the palace.
Of course Harristan always seems on the verge of illness.
“You started this revolution,” I say to Allisander. “Out of petty revenge.”
“We all helped start this revolution,” he snaps. “You too, Your Highness. You, the King’s Justice. I gave them the means. You gave them the reason.”
I flinch. I can’t help it.
But then I take a breath and look at him. I can’t undo what’s been done, but maybe I can help stop what’s been set in motion. “The rebels will not yield to Harristan. He can’t promise access to the Moonflower—not when you’re refusing to send shipments that are at risk.”
