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I’m staring at him. I’m not sure what to say.

Corrick takes a sip from his glass. “Surely you don’t think we were the only ones sneaking into the sector to steal medicine. It wasn’t difficult to plant a mask on him.”

I remember the alarms and lights from the night Wes went missing. I thought they were for him.

My mouth is hanging open. I snap it shut. “You . . . ?you said you worked in the forges. You said you were from Steel City.”

He shrugs and runs a hand across the back of his neck, looking abashed. “It was as good a place as any other. I have an interest in metalworking, so I can speak to it a bit.”

It’s so difficult to remind myself that he’s not Wes. His manner has changed again, and he’s more relaxed now that we’re alone and I’m not punching him in the crotch. I was wondering how he wore two faces, but after seeing him with different people, I’m thinking he has dozens of faces that he shows when the need arises. I have no idea which is real, but his easy manner is making it hard to remain tense and frightened. If I close my eyes, we could be back in the workshop, sitting by the fire, trading silly banter.

No. I can’t. I can’t forget that he’s Prince Corrick. He could snap his fingers and have me executed right here.

Idraw a shaky breath. “What—” I have to clear my throat. “When I was in chains—when you—when that other woman spoke for me—”

“Consul Cherry. Of Sunkeep.” He takes another bite of food, as if my emotions weren’t crumbling to pieces right in front of him.

My mouth stalls. I swallow. He was so harsh. That’s what I’m having the hardest time reconciling. He was so playful and decent as Wes.

He sets down the fork and looks at me. That’s almost worse. His eyes are so piercing. No wonder prisoners beg for death.

But then he says, “Ask your question, Tessa,” and his voice is soft and low and familiar, no hint of ice or steel in his tone.

I draw a breath. “You knew it was me,” I say. “When I was lying there in chains. I couldn’t see you, but you could see me. You had to know.”

“I knew.”

“And . . . ?and you were so cruel.” For all my rebellious bravado, my voice won’t rise above a whisper now. I need to understand. I need him to explain it to me.

“I told you,” he says. “Cruelty is expected. Necessary, in fact, in front of Consul Cherry.” His eyes flick to the door and back to mine. “In front of my guards, who will gossip about whatever they see and whatever they hear.”

I study him. I consider the way he threw me on the ground when the guard burst through the door. The way he adjusted the fabric over my shoulder once the door was closed.

The man on the gates was hung for being a smuggler, but he was caught raping and beating a woman. Isn’t that what Corrick said? That part isn’t public knowledge—just the smuggling.

Meanwhile,Corrick is allowing people to think he’s abusing me—when he hasn’t actually harmed me since the moment I woke up in the pile of pillows. I consider the food in front of me, or the way Quint is preparing a room.

“Why would you want people to think you’re horrible?” I say.

He inhales as if to speak, then thinks better of whatever he was going to say, because he gives a slight shake of his head. “Why did you really sneak into the palace?” he asks quietly.

“I told you. I hoped—I hoped to steal medicine. I hoped to help the people we left vulnerable when Wes—when you—when we stopped.”

“You made it into the servants’ passageways, so you would have had quick access to our rooms.” He pauses. “You know what they found in your pack. Did you seek to kill the king?”

I say nothing. My mouth goes dry. To even admit the thought crossing my mind is treason. It was only a moment, but I thought of it.

I wonder what my father would think of me right now. Did I fail? Or did I make the right choice?

“Did you seek to kill me?” Corrick adds.

I wet my lips. I won’t say yes—but I can’t deny it either. “I couldn’t do it,” I whisper.

“You’re not a killer.”

I nod. He knows I’m not.

His eyes go hard again, like twin slabs of ice in the moonlight. “Kindness leaves you vulnerable, Tessa. I learned that lesson years ago. I’m surprised you haven’t.”

Years ago. When my parents died?

No, that’s ridiculous. That wouldn’t have affected him. But I realize that I’m forgetting—again—that he’s a member of the royal family, and he’s faced his own losses.

So. . . ?when his parents died? What does that mean? He’s changed faces again, and I’m not sure what’s safe to say.

Corrick wipes his hands on his napkin. “Eat your dinner. I’ll take you to your room so you can get some sleep. You’ll need it. Quint will be banging on your door at sunrise.”