Page 131

“For the pain.” She hesitates, then bites at her lip. “Your Highness.”

Corrick takes the tea. He doesn’t look like Wes anymore; he looks like the King’s Justice, his eyes shadowed and closed off, even wounded. But he says, “Thank you.”

He doesn’t take a sip. He doesn’t trust her. He doesn’t trust any of them.

I probably shouldn’t either, but I’ve known Karri for years, and I don’t think she’d try to poison him—but then I’d never expect her to be working with rebels either. I’ve lived in the Wilds and worked in Artis side by side with these people all my life. But even though they seem to want to help right this second, Lochlan kidnapped me and Corrick. The crowd tried to kill Corrick, knowing full well who he was.

I suddenly feel like I have a foot planted in each world, and I’m not sure how to move forward.

From the expression on Earle’s and Karri’s faces, I don’t think I’m the only one.

I thought things had turned in our favor, that I’d changed the minds of the crowd, but I’d forgotten, again, that Wes was never just Wes, and Corrick is . . . ?well, the brother to the king. They can patch him up, but they can’t undo what’s been done.

King Harristan’s voice was so gentle when he spoke to me after the explosions in the Royal Sector, when he said, The King’s Justice cannot be lenient to those who attack a building in the center of the Royal Sector. Surely you know this.

I do know it. I also know the King’s Justice can’t be lenient when he’s been kidnapped and beaten nearly to death. He might agree with the rebellion, and he might be willing to change things from the inside, but that doesn’t mean he’ll turn a blind eye to everything done here.

Even if he would, I doubt these rebels would believe him.

I stopped the attack, but I didn’t stop anything else. They’re still rebels. To everyone here, he’s still the prince whose duty it is to punish them. My pulse tumbles along, begging me for action, but there’s no action to take. I place my hand over his.

Lochlan and Earle exchange a glance.

Karri won’t meet my eyes.

Corrick looks at Lochlan. “Fetch a crossbow. Do it now.” His eyes shift to Earle. “Take Tessa away from here.”

My brain can’t keep up with the sudden onslaught of emotion. “Wait. Corrick—Corrick, no—”

Earle takes my arm. “Come on, Tessa.” His voice is low and sad.

Lochlan has already gone through the door. I struggle against Earle’s grip. My eyes are on Corrick, broken and bleeding, but sitting upright out of sheer force of will.

“Stop,” I say to him, and to my surprise, I’m crying. “Corrick, no. What are you doing?” I twist free of Earle’s grip suddenly, and I throw my arms around Corrick.

He makes a small sound, and I know I’ve hurt him, but I don’t care. “I’m sorry,” I say. “Please—please don’t—”

“Tessa.” He speaks right to my ear, his voice just for me, and it forces me still. He has a plan. He must have a plan.

But then he says, “I told you what they’d do.”

They’d torture me and use me against Harristan.

He did tell me. He sacrifices everything for his brother. This is no different.

I choke on my breath. I can’t let him go. I can’t. I burrow my face against his shoulder.

After a moment, his arms come around me, and I can feel him shaking.

His lips brush against my cheek. “Mind your mettle, Tessa.”

My breath catches, and I draw back to look at him. “I can’t lose you twice.”

He flinches. “Forgive me.”

The door slams, and I jump. Lochlan is back. Earle takes hold of my arm again.

I tighten my grip, and Corrick winces. “Tessa. Please.”