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His eyes are searching mine, and I search his right back. I keep thinking of what Quint said, how this is the first time Harristan and I will be doing any of this alone. The enormity of that tightens my chest. We’ve never been alone. Not when we were boys, sneaking into the Wilds with a few pieces of silver in our pockets, not when our parents were killed, not when rebels stormed the palace and we ran for our lives.

“Harristan,” I say. “Doyouwant me to wait?”

He says nothing, and the carriage draws to a stop. Suddenly, there’s no rattle of hooves on cobblestones, and the air between us is silent.

A porter begins to swing the door open. “Your Highness—”

“Not yet.” I reach out and snap the door closed. My voice drops until it’s barely louder than a whisper, and I repeat the question. “Do you? Do you want me to wait?”

He inhales deeply—then coughs.

I frown.

He lifts a hand, then takes a slow breath. “I’m fine.”

I clench my jaw. I hate this.

“We have an opportunity to do something good, Cory,” he says. “Father was so well regarded.” He pauses. “I don’t want fear and anger to be my legacy. I want to be … better.”

He sounds …hopeful. I don’t remember the last time I heard my brother sound hopeful.

“I do too,” I say.

He nods, then extends a hand.

I reach out and clasp it. Harristan isn’t one for affection, but his grip is tight and sure. For one brief second, my throat tightens, and I’m not sure I’m going to be able to climb out of this carriage.

But then he blinks and lets go, then reaches out to ruffle my hair, ending with a light shove, the way he did when we were boys. I scoff and bat his hand away, then reach for the latch on the door.

“Corrick,” he says quietly, before my hand pulls the latch.

I turn. “What?”

He says nothing for a moment, and in that breath of silence, I feel the weight of his emotion.

“Come home safe, little brother.”

I give him a nod. “I promise. Be here when I get back.”

Then I open the door and slip into the falling rain alone.

Porters and footmen carry umbrellas, but the wind is such that I’ve got rain in my boots and down my collar by the time I make it to the line of guards who’ve assembled for my departure. I’m still tangled up with emotion about my brother, full of doubts and worries about the trip, and then Rocco informs me that Tessa is already on board with Kilbourne and Silas. “Captain Blakemore sought to get Miss Tessa out of the weather,” Rocco says.

I’ll bet he did.

“Excellent news,” I say flatly. I glance around at the guards standing at attention in the rain. “What about Lochlan?”

“On board as well,” he says. “He’ll be watched by Guardsman Silas until we determine he’s not a threat to you, Your Highness.”

“Well chosen,” I say, but I’m not entirely sure about that. Of all the guards Rocco could have chosen, I wouldn’t have considered Silas. He’s younger than I am, and I doubt he’s ever been charged with anything more important than babysitting empty carriages. He’s hardly been a member of the guard for six months. But his family owns a number of iron mines in Trader’s Landing, and they have a bustling shipping business.

Meaning this guard will know iron and steel—and will likely know ships as well. That will be an asset right up to the moment when I need an experienced guard.

I glance at the gangway, then pull my pocket watch free. Water droplets immediately speckle the face. Men and women are shouting orders on the deck, and the rain steadily beats down. I didn’t expect—orwant—fanfare, but I did expectsomeonefrom theDawn Chaserto escort us aboard.

Or maybe I’m just irritated because this means Tessa is on board with the captain, while I’m standing down here getting rain in myboots, and the king of Kandala is hiding in a darkened carriage, waiting for me to go.

The thought feels petulant, and I hate it. Surely they’re busy preparing to leave in this weather.