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CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Tessa

The king makes for an intimidating audience, even with Quint at my side. It doesn’t help that the Palace Master looks as anxious as I feel. I speak haltingly at first, the crackling of the fire underscoring my words, but King Harristan says nothing as I tell him the story of my parents again, how they were killed by the night patrol—and Corrick stopped the same thing from happening to me. I tell him about the workshop, and the people we helped, and how I didn’t know who Prince Corrick really was until the night I was captured in the palace.

The king listens to all this patiently, and when I finally fall silent, he says, “How did you come to be in the rebel camp?”

I swallow. “Consul Sallister was threatening to withhold medicine if Corrick didn’t put a stop to the attacks on his supply runs. We’ve heard some whispers about the Benefactors, and I thought . . .” My mouth goes dry. “I thought people might talk to us if we returned as outlaws.”

Heconsiders this for a moment. “And how did you leave the palace without being seen?”

My eyes flick to Quint before I can stop myself.

The king follows my gaze.

Quint inhales like he’s going to spin this, but King Harristan’s gaze is unyielding, and Quint sighs. “I helped.”

“And not for the first time, I’m assuming,” says Harristan. “Or Tessa would not have asked for you to be here.”

Quint glances at me. “No, Your Majesty,” he concedes.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

“This is not a time for apologies,” says Harristan. His eyes are on Quint now. “For how long?”

“For . . . years.”

“Years,” echoes Harristan. He frowns. “Why, Quint?”

“In the beginning . . . ?well, simply because Prince Corrick is the King’s Justice.” He says this as if it explains everything, and in a way, it does. “I wasn’t helping so much as turning a blind eye to his mysterious early morning absences. But then came a morning when he didn’t show for a breakfast with one of the consuls. I went to inquire, and his guards said he hadn’t left his quarters all morning. When I knocked, he let me in, and he was . . . ?in a state. He was filthy, with blisters on his hands. He’d watched a child die. A baby who coughed so hard she couldn’t breathe.”

“I remember that,” I say softly, and I do. The mother had the fever all through her pregnancy, but she kept taking the teas we brought, and the baby was born perfectly healthy. But within a week, the infant had a fever, and she succumbed to the cough right in front of us. I swallow. “He was filthy because he helped the father dig a grave.”

“Yes,” says Quint. “He told me. He told me everything.” He glances at Harristan. “He was helping his people, Your Majesty. How is that treason?”

The weight in the room is potent.

Harristan runs a hand over the back of his neck. “I hate that he wouldn’t tell me.”

“He couldn’t—”

Harristan silences me with a look. “I know,” he says evenly. “I know what he risked.” He looks at Quint. “You should have told me.”

Quint says nothing. He doesn’t look afraid. He looks resigned.

I glare at the king. “You don’t make it easy to tell you anything at all,” I say.

“Tessa,” breathes Quint.

“I’m not just talking about Quint,” I continue. “I’m talking about Corrick, too. You said you know what he risked, but I’m not sure you do. He let those rebels beat him nearly to death because he didn’t want to be used against you. He was willing to sacrifice his life to protect you. He doesn’t want to be cruel. He doesn’t want to kill anyone. He does these things to spare you from doing them. He wants to be honest and he wants to be just and he wants to be better. Not just for you. For all of Kandala. And you—well, you are a—”

“Tessa.”

It’s not Quint’s voice this time. It’s Corrick’s. He stands in the doorway, Rocco at his back. He’s a bit pale, the bruises on his face stark in the artificial light here in the palace. His hand is braced on the doorframe, his knuckles white where he grips the wood.

“Corrick,” I whisper.

He limps to the table, and I stand to help him, but he stops by my side. He brushes the back of his uninjured hand against mine, looping our fingers together, causing my heart to skip a beat. But his eyes are on the king. “You should be questioning Arella and Roydan, not chasing down my pastimes.”