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“The king will never allow you to keep her here as some kind of . . . tortured concubine,” says Quint.
“I won’t allow it either,” I snap.
He’s not paying attention to me. “We’ll need to come up with something else. Something that will satisfy Allisander yet appease Arella.”
“I need to know why you were in the palace,” says Corrick, and his voice has gone cold again, the way it was when he grabbed hold of my hair and jerked tight.
I swallow. “I told you. It was a mistake.”
“Try again.”
It’s easy to see why people are terrified of him. It’s not just his reputation. When his attention is so focused, it’s hard to think of anything else. I want to rewind time to the brief minute when he was still Wes, unchaining my hands, letting me cling to him the way I’ve done so many times before.
I need to shake this off. Wes doesn’t exist.
And Corrick is still waiting for an answer.
I glance between him and Quint. There’s no use in lying, not when the answer is so boring. “I had to make a delivery in the Royal Sector. I made a wrong turn and found myself facing the palace. I knew—” My voice breaks, and I have to clear my throat. “I knew the supply of Moonflower petals here was more potent than in the other sectors, and I wanted—I wanted—”
“You wanted to steal right from the palace?” says Corrick. “Even I didn’t take from the palace, Tessa.”
“No—I know. I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t even plan it. There were—there were girls. Serving girls, I suppose. I followed them. I thought for sure the guards would stop me, but—but I guess one girl in homespun looks just like the others. I walked right in.”
At that, Quint looks alarmed. Corrick’s whole demeanor darkens.
Quint puts up a hand before he can say anything. “I’ll find out who was stationed there at daybreak. You’ll have names by breakfast.”
I don’t take my eyes off the prince. “You’re going to kill the guard who let me past?”
“I’m certainly not going to write him a letter of gratitude.”
I say nothing, but maybe my horrified expression conveys my thoughts anyway, because he sighs and looks away. “I’m aware of my reputation, but I don’t execute everyone, Tessa.” He pauses. “Besides, I’m surprised you’re sparing a thought to his defense. If he’d done his job, you’d be in the workshop right now, filling vials and loading your pack.”
Hearing him talk about the workshop in such a flat voice makes my throat swell. Like it’s something to be mocked, and not a space where we shared the most important moments of my life over the last few years. I have to press a hand to my eyes before tears can fall.
When I steady my breathing and lower my hands, trying to blink the tears away, I see that Quint is holding out an embroidered handkerchief, and his expression isn’t unkind. It’s so shocking that it drives back some of the emotion. I take it, clutching it between my fingers. It smells like cinnamon and oranges and feels like silk. It’s quite possibly the most expensive thing I’ve ever held in my hands—with the exception of Moonflower petals. I hardly want to use it to dab at my cheeks. “Thank you.”
There’s a knock at the door, but Corrick doesn’t move. “That will be supper,” he says. “Enter,” he calls.
A serving girl who looks a bit tired and rumpled carries in a tray. She sets it on the side table, then curtsies to the prince. “Your Highness. Master Quint.” Her eyes land on me, and she quickly glances away. “Will you be needing anything else?”
“No,” says Corrick.
“Yes,” says Quint. “Prepare a suite for our new guest. Be sure the closet and washroom are fully stocked. Fresh linens, too.”
“Of course.” She curtsies again, then slips out the door.
“I’ll leave you to dine,” says Quint. “I’ll speak with the captain for suitable guard assignments. I believe four should be enough to prevent any further . . . ?shall we say, wandering?” He looks at me pointedly.
“Wait. A room for me?” I squeak. Nothing here makes any sense.
They ignore me. “What are you thinking?” says Corrick.
“I’m thinking she shouldn’t remain in your room any longer than necessary. It’s the middle of the night, so rumors haven’t had a chance to spread. You said she’s been adjusting the dosages on your runs. Perhaps she could have brought some medicinal insight to the palace? Surely we can spin something better than a punishment of being chained to your bed.”
“Surely,” Corrick says woodenly.
Quint pulls a little booklet from his jacket and jots a note. “I’ll draft an announcement by midday for you to review.”
