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If I’m responsible for every moment of suffering in Kandala.
With a start, I realize Corrick isn’t just talking about Captain Blakemore’s perception of him. He’s talking about me. Lochlan. The people in that candy shop. Everyone.
Including himself.
I realign everything he’s said since he got on board. I was waylaid by Lochlan’s comments, and my doubts were reinforced by Rian’s own thoughts about Corrick.
But the prince got on this ship because he wanted a better way.
I haven’t yet decided whether it’s worth the risk to force his hand.
So Corrick risked his life instead of picking a fight.
And when a fight seemed apparent, Corrick all but threw himself on his own sword.
It’s exactly what he did when he was in the palace. He couldn’t fight Allisander Sallister without risking everything, so he went out into the Wilds to help people in a different way.
All while allowing everyone to think he was the most vicious man in the country.
I move to the table and pick up the jar of salve. “Will you let me take a look at your hands?”
“I told you. My hands are fine.”
I draw an exasperated breath and stride across the room to him. I let my bag drop to the floor and seize his wrist.
I half expect him to pull away from me, but he doesn’t resist at all. In fact, he looks somewhat amused. “Your bedside manner has grown rather rough.”
I gentle my grip. “I’m sorry. I thought—” I stop myself. “I don’t know what I thought.”
“You thought I’d fight you.”
Yes.
But I can’t say that, because it feels like we’re talking about something else entirely, and my heart skips a beat. We’re so close together. I can breathe in his scent, and it reminds me of when we’d stand together in the workshop, when it was just the two of us against the night.
I uncurl his fingers to find two of them already red and blistered, with a neat tear in the skin across his palm. The injury isn’t terrible, but I’m sure it hurts.
“Come sit,” I say. “Let me wrap it for the night.”
He studies me, his eyes searching mine, but then he nods.
I pull a roll of muslin from my pack, along with some other herbs, and we drop into the seats. I open the jar of salve and dab some onto the worst of the wounds. His hand rests in mine, warm and steady, and he’s so quiet that I can hear each inhale.
When I glance up, his eyes are right there, watching me.
“I can’t believe you did this,” I say quietly.
“You think I should’ve just let go? You’re not the only one, I’m sure.”
“No. I meant the climbing. The competition.”
“I wanted an answer.” He pauses. “You climbed the mast, too.”
“Well, I wasn’t racing. It was still terrifying.” My heart jumps at the memory of the spinning sky, the rough water below. “Why was he acting like you cheated?”
“When I slipped,” he says, “the captain stopped to tell me how to guide my feet back onto the ropes. In doing so, he lost his chance to take the lead.”
I frown and shake my head. “I don’t understand why he would help you if he’s worried that you and Harristan are working against him. Do you think there’s any chance that he’s being earnest? That maybe he really is worried you’re going to take advantage ofhim?”
