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“You and Roydan? Tell me more.”
“No.”
“Check,” says Quint.
I glance at the board. He’s moved his knight into position to capture my king, but that’s easily solved. I move one space to the right and look back at Arella. “Allisander and Lissa believe you are making a statement in opposition to them.”
“How lucky for me that I don’t pander to Consul Sallister and Consul Marpetta, then.”
That statement is a little too barbed, and I lose the smile. “Why are you here, Arella?”
“Your people are suffering,” she says. “These whispers of rebellion are not an attack on you and your brother.”
“They’re not whispers,” I say.
“People are desperate. They’re dying.”
“Check,” says Quint.
I sigh and move my king again. “I know people are dying.”
“Your brother may wear the crown, but everyone knows two consuls rule Kandala.”
My voice gains an edge. “You should watch your words.”
“Or what? You’ll throw me into the Hold?”
I inhale a breath of fury, but Quint says, “Check.”
“Damn it, Quint!” I shove my king one more space to the left, then stand to face Arella. “I know our people are dying. So does Harristan. I am doing my best to keep them alive.”
“Hmm. Would the man hanging from the gates agree?”
Her confidence would be impressive if it weren’t all being used to stand against me. “You requested a pardon for the eight smugglers who were imprisoned.”
“Yes. I did.” Her eyes don’t flinch away from mine. “Do you think your presentation before the sector gates would have ended in cries for revolution if your brother had granted it?”
I go still.
Outside my window, lights flash, and the faint sound of the alarms carries over the quiet of the night sky.
“Another prisoner,” says Arella. She all but spits the word at me. “Another body for your wall.”
“Another warning to other smugglers,” I snap. “A promise to the people that their medicine supply will be kept safe.”
“The medicine only a privileged few receive?”
My voice is tight. “We grant as much of the supply as we can, and you well know it.”
“True strength is not determined by how brutal you can be,” she says, and her tone is still quiet, but full of steel. “True leadership is not determined by killing those who oppose you.”
“True leadership is not determined by slipping into the prince’s chambers in the dead of night either,” I say. “You could have gone to Harristan at any time, Arella. I notice you waited until the others were gone, and you bring your pleas to me instead of my brother.”
To my surprise, she laughs. “I told you, I care nothing for Lissa and Allisander.” She pauses, and her voice drops again. “I care for my people. I care for your people.” Another pause, and she takes a step closer. “You are the King’s Justice, not his executioner. I thought someone should remind you.”
My jaw is tight, and everything I want to say would be a betrayal to someone who matters.
SoI say nothing.
Arella frowns, then offers a curtsy. “Thank you for granting me an audience, Prince Corrick.”
Once she’s through the door, I take a long breath and run my hands back through my hair. I look at Quint, who’s sitting impassively beside the chessboard.
“What?” I say.
He inhales as if to answer, then shakes his head. He reaches out and knocks over my king. “Checkmate.”
