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“Not nearly enough.”
His eyes sweep the room, and he stops when his gaze lands on Tessa. She’s drawn into the corner again, but she has the good sense to be on her knees. Her eyes are locked on the floor, and one of the silk pillows is clutched to her chest, as if that would provide any kind of defense against anyone at all.
She looks like a loud noise would cause her heart to stop beating. For half a second, sympathy joins the shame pooling in my chest, but then I realize the chain is nowhere to be seen, and I suspect she’s hiding it.
Please, Tessa. If she attacks my brother, there is literally nothing I can do to save her.
Harristan barely looks at her. His incredulous eyes snap back to me. “What are you doing?”
“Allisander demands punishment. Arella demands leniency. I thought I might have discovered a happy medium.” I move to the side table and fill a new glass, then hold it out to my brother.
He doesn’t take it. “Arella hardly thinks what you’re doing is lenient.” His eyes search mine. “For that matter, neither do I.”
It takes a moment for me to realize what he’s saying. Harristan gives me free rein to do what needs to be done, but he doesn’t like torture for the sake of pain and violence. He doesn’t like prolonging the inevitable.
I drain this drink in one swallow like the others, then drop my voice so my words are for him alone. “As you said, brother, all that matters is what it looks like.”
He frowns. “Cory. I don’t like this.”
I don’t like it either. I look away.
He’s watching me carefully, trying to figure me out. This isn’t like me. I know it. He knows it. He’s going to press me for more of an answer—or worse, for more of a decision. I’ll have to tell him everything, and then Tessa will end up in the Hold, and later, at the end of a rope. I’ll be right there next to her.
But then he coughs. It’s not a small sound, like in recent days. It’s a harsh cough that requires a breath of air that sounds as though it’s pulled through a wet sieve. Then again.
“Harristan,” I say in alarm.
He gives another short cough, then looks at me. “I’m fine.” He clears his throat. “If she escapes your room, she’s going to the Hold.”
I make my voice hard, the way he’d expect it to be. “If she escapes my room, she won’t make it to the Hold.”
I expect him to say more, but Harristan nods and turns away. He’s moving stiffly, his back tight as if he’s trying not to cough again. I stand in the doorway and wait until he’s out of earshot, then look to one of my guards. “Have the kitchen send a pot of tea to the king’s room, along with a vial of the elixir.”
“Yes, Your Highness.” He bows to me, and I close myself back into my chambers.
Tessa is still in the corner, looking at me with wide eyes over the pillow.
“What?” I say flatly.
“The king is sick,” she whispers.
“He is not sick,” I snap. I stride across the floor, and her eyes narrow in a way that tells me she’s going to drop the pillow and swing that chain.
I’m rattled and tired and full of tension, but on top of it all, I’m done with being struck. When she swings, I catch the end and jerk hard, looping it around one of her wrists and then the other so quickly that she cries out. Before she has a chance to fight back, I pin her against the wall, trapping her hands overhead.
She’sbreathing hard, her chest expanding rapidly into mine.
“You’re not the first to attack me,” I say.
Her cheeks are flushed, and I wait for her to fight me.
She doesn’t. She stares into my eyes and we share the same air, until the moment shifts. Changes. Softens, though not in the way I expect.
“I wish I’d never let you kiss me,” she says quietly.
I almost flinch. I should have let her hang on to the chain. Being hit with that would’ve hurt less.
“Now I understand why you wouldn’t show me your face,” she adds.
