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Corrick might think all of this is pretense, but the captain’s grief feels genuine to me. “Please,” I say softly. “Call me Tessa.”
He gives me a nod, then a small smile. “Then you must call me Rian.”
Harristan speaks through the emotion with casual efficiency. “Who won?” he says.
“Galen Redstone won the throne,” Rian says. “If you can even call itwinning. He was an illegitimate son, and his primary rival was a man named Oren Crane, the king’s half-brother.”
“His uncle?” I say.
“Yes,” Rian says, “but I don’t believe they knew much of each other before the conflict. Power changed hands many times over the course of months.”
“And what happened to Oren Crane?” says Harristan. “Was he killed?”
“No. But he made enough enemies that his allies began to fall, one by one, until he had no choice but to yield. Now, the country has stabilized under this new leadership, and focus has shifted to rebuilding instead of fighting. Which is why I’m here now.”
“So you’re close with thisnewking,” says Corrick.
“Close? No. But I spent enough time on their shores that I’ve earned their trust. I truly do have an interest in helping them rebuild. I knew of the conflict with Kandala’s former kings, but I have my father’s ship and his seal. I offered to sail here to act in good faith.” He holds Corrick’s eyes. “It would be my pleasure to escort the King’s Justice and act as liaison with Ostriary’s court as well.”
“I don’t need you to act as liaison,” Corrick says.
Rian smiles. “I suppose I’ll just sail the ship then.”
“What about the fevers?” I say. “Do you worry about carrying disease to Ostriary?”
He hesitates, looking around the table. “Rumor says that it’s not contagious. That there’s no rhyme or reason to who is affected. Is that true?”
“Yes,” I admit.
He considers this. “Ostriary is desperate enough for steel that I’m willing to risk contagion, at least on a small scale. If it becomes an issue, we have more than enough Moonflower to go around.”
“What are your terms?” says Harristan. “What do you require, to bring this to pass?”
“Myterms?” Rian sits back in the chair, and he glances between the king and the prince. “Do you expect me to ask for chests full of silver? Do you have many to spare?”
“Don’t play with me.”
“I’m not playing. I’m not doing this for myself. We need steel.You need Moonflower petals.” He casts a dark glance at the end of the table. “Since apparently your own countrymen are reluctant to provide them.”
“ ‘Weneed steel,’ ” Harristan repeats. “Your father may have been loyal to Kandala, but you’ve clearly changed allegiance.”
Rian hesitates, then frowns. “It’s not a matter of allegiance. I spent a quarter of my life there, Your Majesty. There was no escaping the fighting. I was forced to pick a side, just like everyone else.” He pauses. “I want both countries to have what they need, and I don’t see any reason why you can’t come to terms with the new king himself. He seems to be a reasonable man. Healsowants to rebuild.” He glances down at Allisander and Laurel again. “He doesn’t want to take advantage of suffering people to line his own pockets.”
My heart is a steady thrum in my chest. Maybe it is naive, but I believe him. I believe every word. And it’s not just the strength of his conviction. It’s the loyalty of his crew. The way Marchon looked to him when he said the wordsbroken and bleeding. The way they all declared that they wouldn’t sail for anyone else. He just turned down silver, when surely he has the leverage to demand it. It’s the first time I’ve heard someone speak of hope and promise without caveats and conditions.
Maybe that’s what gives me the courage to look at Corrick and say, “You should go.”
He hasn’t looked away from the captain. “Oh, I should, should I?”
“Yes. Because I want to go with you.”
He snaps his head around like I told him I want to leap off the roof. “Tessa!”
“I do!” I say. “Consul Sallister clearly has no desire to give us enough medicine. If Ostriary has Moonflower, this could help allof Kandala, Corrick. This could buy us more time to protect more people while we deliver a better cure. This could be the very key to finding a way out of this sickness.”
The table falls silent, and I realize my voice has grown loud, impassioned. Across the table, Captain Blakemore is regarding me with raised eyebrows.
“Forgive the prince’s pet apothecary, Captain,” Allisander says from his end of the table. “She understands little of politics and negotiation.”
