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CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Corrick

Iknew I should have killed this man when I had the chance.

If I were alone, I’d fight. I’d run. I have a dagger and my treble hook. I could bury the weapon in Lochlan’s belly and escape into the woods, then be over the wall in the blink of an eye.

But I’m not alone. At my side, Tessa’s breathing is quick and shallow, and she’s shifted closer to me.

It seems unfair that fate would put her in my arms at last and then deliver this fool to our door.

I glance at the crossbow and then back up at Lochlan’s face. “You said you didn’t have a problem with me.”

“I don’t have a problem with some bleeding heart named Wes. I do have a slight issue with the King’s Justice, Prince Corrick.”

“So do I,” I say easily.

He snorts, then glances between me and Tessa. “I knew I’d heard your voice before. It took me a bit, but that dagger was just too fancy. No way that didn’t come out of the palace.” His expression darkens. “Tricking your people into thinking someone was helping them? You’re even more disgusting than I thought.”

I ignore him and look at the other men. “You know me. You know us. Put down your weapons and walk away.”

The men exchange glances. Lochlan knows who I am, but I can feel their uncertainty in the air. They’ve known Wes and Tessa for years. Thunder rolls overhead, and rain begins to spit between the trees.

Lochlan keeps the crossbow trained on my chest, but he looks at Tessa. “Who is he?”

“He’s Wes.” She’s such a terrible liar. Her voice is breathy and afraid. “Weston Lark.”

“Tell the truth or I’ll shoot him.”

“He’s Wes! I promise, he’s Wes!”

“You’re a liar, and you don’t matter.” He turns the crossbow on her.

“No!” I shout. Without thought, I tackle him. Even though one of his arms is injured, he’s stronger than I expect. We roll in the wet underbrush, grappling for control, until I hear Tessa scream.

It’s all the distraction Lochlan needs. He grabs the crossbow and bears down. “They’ll kill her,” he says. “Now tell the truth.”

Rage colors my vision. I try to shove Lochlan off me, but now he has me pinned. Somewhere behind me, Tessa squeals, and I hear a punch land.

“Fine!” I shout. “I’m Prince Corrick,” I grind out. “I’m the King’s Justice.”

“No,” gasps Tessa, and I wonder if they’re choking her. But then she says, “Corrick, no.”

Allthe ways she said my name, and this time breaks my heart.

“Surrender,” says Lochlan, and in his eyes, I can see the promise of everything they’ll do to her if I don’t.

I lift my hands, and it costs me everything. “I surrender.”

We’re forced to walk through the woods, heading east this time, which means we’re not going back to the village where we first met Lochlan. My hands have been bound, the ropes tied so tightly that my fingers are already tingling no matter how much I flex against the bonds. The point of a crossbow keeps jabbing me in the back, and I can tell it’s intentional. I grit my teeth against saying anything, because they’ve got Tessa walking somewhere behind me, and Lochlan already made it clear that if I don’t do what he says, they’ll take it out on her.

He’s the one jabbing me with the crossbow.

Rain falls steadily through the trees now, turning the footing slick and challenging, especially in the dark. Especially with my hands tied. My pulse beats at a rapid clip, sending little spikes of anger and fear through my bloodstream. I pray for the night patrol to find us.

Then again, maybe that would be worse. I don’t look like Prince Corrick right now, and I don’t know every single patrolman in Kandala. They were going to shoot that boy in the village. I have no doubt they’d shoot me for daring to impersonate the king’s brother.

And if they did believe me, being found among smugglers couldn’t be explained away.