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And I gave her my ring. I have no way to prove myself now. I’m injured and half soaked in blood. Even if Violet’s family found me and believed me—which is doubtful—I rather doubt the night patrol would.
They shot Maxon. They shot him, and he didn’t even do anything wrong.
You’d do the same, I’m sure.
The words seem to have two meanings now. I clench my eyes closed and try to breathe.
I press my hands into the ground and shift my weight, and the cat uncurls, annoyed, but I ignore the animal and try to get my legs underneath me. I can stand, but I feel lightheaded, dizzy. Mytrousers are tacky with blood, and I can see through the tear in my pants that the injury is still seeping.
I draw a ragged breath and swear.
Well, I can’t just stand here. I limp into a stall with a cow and attend to human needs. I’m not quite thirsty enough to share the animal’s water trough, but it’s close. Violet’s family has a draft horse, but when I limp to his stall, I discover that he’s old and sway-backed, and most likely broke for harness, not for riding.
I’m so dizzy that I’m not sure I could stay on top of a horse anyway.
I wish for clothes, but there are none in the barn. I could try to walk toward the Royal Sector, but I gave Violet all of my money, so I don’t even have coins to pay for a ride in a wagon.
I have no idea which is worse: staying here, waiting for discovery, or heading out in the sunlight and praying that no one recognizes me.
I think of Captain Huxley standing with Arella and Laurel.
If you don’t have medicine, then what do you have?
Information on the king. On how he’strickingyou.
I’m not tricking anyone. This is more treason and betrayal—and as much as I hate to admit it, I’m a bit shocked it’s coming from Arella Cherry.
Corrick is gone. If I can’t trust my guards, I have no one.
Quint.
But if Arella is working against me, maybe I can’t trust Quint either. Maybe Quint is the one who had Violet locked up, and he’s just now gathering guards and consuls to come takemeinto custody, to parade me back to the palace in chains for doing the exact same thing Corrick was doing.
A chill crawls up my spine, and I make my way back to the wallof the barn, then slide back to sitting. The deepest, darkest part of me wants to run and hide, to lose myself somewhere. No one would ever know.
But that would mean abandoning my throne.
Abandoning my people.
If anyone deserves to escape this role, it’s my brother.
Without warning, I hear hoofbeats, and I freeze. It’s more than one horse, so it can’t be Quint alone.
I struggle to my feet again, then brace a hand against the wall when I begin to slip sideways. My heart stutters in my chest, then bolts, pounding so hard that I feel it in my head. I wish I had a weapon. I don’t know how long or how well I can fight, because the weapons master always goes too easy on me. It makes him nervous when my breathing gets strained.
But I rather doubt I’ll last long. Running as far as I did last night just about killed me.
Then, without warning, the barn doors are rolling open, the sun so bright that I have to blink it away. Figures fill the doorway. I recognize Violet first, because she bursts forward. “Fox!” she cries. “You’re still here!”
“Still here,” I say. My eyes are on the men following her. They step out of the sunlight slowly, and I’m frozen in place. Quint is there, his expression tense when his eyes land on me. I’m not sure it’s a relief, because he didn’t come alone, as I requested. He’s backed by two guards, Thorin and Saeth, and they look as fierce and foreboding as ever.
I keep thinking of Captain Huxley’s words in the clearing last night—or Rocco’s warnings to me and Corrick before he left. Thorin and Saeth are trussed up in weapons and armor. I’m exhaustedand injured … and unarmed. They could kill me right now and there’d be nothing I could do about it. My fingers are clutching at the barn wall so tightly that splinters have dug under my nails, and I can hear my breathing shaking. It’s only slightly louder than my heart.
Thorin moves first. He takes a step forward, and my breath catches. I draw myself up and brace against the wall.
But he drops to one knee. “Your Majesty.” An instant later, Saeth and Quint do the same.
A relieved breath huffs out of my chest, and I almost sag against the side of the barn. I have to run a shaking hand over my face. “Rise,” I say, and my voice is rough.
