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The captain runs a hand across the back of his neck, clearly agitated. His jaw is set, his shoulders tight. Rocco has moved close again.
Actually, so has Kilbourne. Sablo and Marchon aren’t far either. For the first time, I realize that the tension has spread beyond just a battle of wills.
“Rian,” I say softly. “If the king sent ships, it was protection for Corrick. They’re not hostile.”
He glances at me, but his eyes return to the prince. “Then your brother has put me in a bad position, Your Highness. Since you like to speak of advantages, I would like to remind you that you and your people are outnumbered. Your ships will not fire on mine while you are on board. It’s no secret where your vulnerabilities lie—”
Rocco moves so swiftly that I’m barely aware he’sthere, blocking me and Corrick from the captain, one weapon drawn. Kilbourne is just to our side.
Sablo and Marchon are there, too. Lochlan is on his feet, glancing between the two men, but Gwyn has dragged her daughter outof the fray. I can hear the little girl squealing in protest, but my eyes are locked on the conflict.
I expect Rian to tell everyone to back down, the way he has before, but he’s not the one to speak up. To my surprise, Corrick is.
“Rocco. Kilbourne. Stand down.”
His voice is quiet and steady, and they obey—barely. They each take one step back.
Sablo and Marchon haven’t moved. If they drew a weapon, Corrick would never be able to move in time.
“Captain,” says Corrick, “if you don’t like fighting on your ship, I suggest you not issue threats you can’t walk back.”
“I didn’t threaten you.” He glances at those ships on the water. “Kandala is the aggressor here.”
I glance at Corrick and think of what he said about the rebels, about the king—how they listened tomewhen it came down to trust. But I have no idea how to fix …this.
I go to take a step forward, to somehow convince Rian that those ships aren’t warships, but before I can move, Corrick catches my wrist. He doesn’t look at me, but there’s an urgency in his grip. A plea that I don’t fully understand.
I go still again.
“Rian.” My voice is too soft, and I wet my lips. “They’re not warships,” I say. “They’renot. I know you think he’s a villain, but Kandala truly needs medicine. Corrick might have done horrible things, but they’re not bringing a battle to Ostriary. There’s no purpose. They barely avoided a revolution. They wouldn’t start a war with another country. I swear it, Rian. Iswear it.”
He says nothing.
“Please,” I say quietly. “Please believe me.”
“That much is true,” says Lochlan, and Rian’s eyes shift his way.
Lochlan shrugs. “I might’ve hoped for the prince to fall—but we really do need medicine. They can barely manage their own people, Captain. Even if they wanted to attack Ostriary, there’s hardly an army to fight.”
Rian runs a hand across the back of his neck again. He hasn’t looked this agitated before. It reminds me of the moment I begged him to continue the game, and he turned harsh eyes my way.
Corrick’s hand is still on my wrist, but he still hasn’t looked at me. “I think our competition may have gotten the best of us this evening, Captain.” His voice is so smooth, the way he used to cajole Consul Sallister into yielding—because every word sounds absolutely sincere. “I give you my word that I do not know the origin of those ships, but I understand your suspicion. Perhaps we should make an early night of it so you and your crew can determine a way to move forward. If you’d like to return us to Port Karenin, I’d fully understand.”
Rian studies him, and a muscle twitches in his jaw. Sablo and Marchon stand at his side, ready for whatever order their captain gives.
Corrick flexes his hand and grimaces. “In truth, I’d appreciate the time to find some tweezers and a bit of salve, because I obviously don’t have the hands of a sailor.”
One of the crewmen snorts. I think it’s Tor. A ripple of quiet laughter goes through the people on deck. Rian looks like he wants to roll his eyes, but he doesn’t. “Fine. Return to your quarters.” He glances at Sablo. “Stand down,” he says. “Allow him to leave.”
Corrick turns to me. “Miss Cade, do you have any salve left?”
There’s so much tension on deck that I don’t know how torespond to the formality, so I hesitate, then nod. “Yes—yes, Your Highness. I have some in my quarters.”
He gives me a nod in return. “Excellent. Let’s head below.” He offers me his arm.
So much tension clings to the air that I don’t know which location carries less risk: down below with Corrick, or up here with Rian. But if I stand here deliberating, it’s going to make everything worse, and I sense that the dynamics have changed. I hold my breath and take his arm, and we descend the staircase in silence.
I feel Captain Blakemore’s eyes on me the whole way.
