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“I can’t simply dress up a sailor as a guardsman,” Harristan says.

“No, Your Majesty,” Rocco agrees. “But … you could send a guardsman who knows his way around a ship. I grew up around the docks in Sunkeep. My brother and his wife still sail the trade route along the coast of Sunkeep and Steel City. I joined them when I took a week’s leave last spring.”

Interesting.Harristan and I exchange a glance.

“So you’ll be a sailor and a spy,” I say.

“A guard,” he says, a bit ruefully. “I’ll keep you alive, Your Highness—and I’ll be able to ensure your safe passage, regardless of what happens to Captain Blakemore.” The weight of those words sink in as he looks to Harristan. “I wanted to make this offer before you made any announcements so there would be no later changes that might invite questions.”

I watch my brother turn this around in his head, examining it from all angles, looking for points of weakness. When he settles on one, it’s not something I considered.

“This is a good suggestion,” Harristan says. “You didn’t want to discuss this with the guard captain?”

The guardsman hesitates. “Captain Huxley still has not determined how the rebels were able to gain access to the palace during the initial revolt. I’ve already seen how quickly Rian Blakemore and his crew have heard rumors around the Royal Sector—rather specific rumors about you, Your Highness, and Miss Tessa, as well. If I made my skills known to Captain Huxley, I worried that there would be no way to keep them secret.”

He has my full attention now. “Are you saying you think the guard captain is a security risk?”

Rocco glances between me and my brother. He might be in the king’s personal guard, which carries some benefits, but he’s not an officer. Making an unfounded claim against the guard captain could put him out of a job, and he looks like he’s just realized he’s cornered himself.

“Go ahead,” says Harristan. “Answer freely.”

Rocco hesitates again, but then he nods, and I realize that he might not trust the guard captain, but he must trust my brother. “Captain Huxley has been known to accept a bit of coin for gossipabout the royal family. If someone started asking questions, I think he’s likely to look the other way if a bit of silver crossed his palm.”

“Are there any other guards with your skills?” says Harristan.

“Not that I know of—but again, I didn’t want to inquire and invite questions.”

Harristan nods. “Very well. I’ll accept your offer. I’ll be sending three guards. Choose the two who you feel would make the best match for this assignment, and bring me their names when you’re on duty tomorrow. Anyone but Thorin. Don’t go through the guard captain. I’ll tell him I made the selection myself.”

Rocco’s eyes widen in surprise. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

“You’re dismissed,” Harristan says.

Once he’s gone, I say, “The guard captain will choke when you don’t involve him in the decision.”

“Rocco has earned the chance to choose his own team.” He pauses. “And I trust him to bring guards who will be loyal.”

I study him. “I don’t like that he doesn’t trust Captain Huxley.” It makes me not want to leave, but I don’t say that. “Why did you tell him not to choose Thorin? He probably would have been his first choice.”

“Because you’re leaving.” For the first time I see the worry in his eyes that I already feel in my gut. “I need someone I can trust, too, Cory.”

It’s late enough when I leave my brother’s room that I expect Quint to be asleep, but when I stride down the hallway to his chambers, I find him up and waiting with a half-finished bottle of wine and a quarter-finished book.

His door was slightly ajar when I arrived, but I push it closed behind me. Quint slips a piece of paper into the book to mark his place, then adds it to the pile of books and papers on his desk. Servants tend his rooms just the same as everywhere else in the palace, so my friend’s quarters aren’tmessy, but there’s definitely a good dose of clutter, as if one thing drew his attention before something else claimed it.

I remove his abandoned jacket from the other chair, toss it onto the foot of his bed, then drop into the chair myself. He doesn’t ask if I want a glass of wine; he simply takes one look at me and pours.

“It’s late,” he says. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

I raise an eyebrow. “I’m never asleep at this hour.”

“At dinner, you looked ready to take Captain Blakemore’s head off. I fully expected you to be spending the evening making Tessa forget that a ship even sailed into port.”

I frown and take a gulp of wine. I probably should be. But I was worried that every petty and jealous thought would find its way out of my head. She’s asleep by now anyway.

Probably.

I wish I could stop thinking of that moment in the carriage when she was afraid—and some of her fear was ofme.