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I mentally realign everything that happened the morning before the execution that turned into calls for revolution—and the morning afterward. Wes was unsettled. Troubled.

I think that very few people truly deserve what they get, Tessa. For good or for bad.

I told him he only deserved good things, and he looked away.

He saved me on the night my parents died. He’s saved me countless times since.

He’s been responsible for the deaths of countless people, too.

The king’s voice is loud in my memories.

Every smuggler has a story to justify their actions. The penalties are well known. How can I turn a blind eye to one type of thievery and not another?

There are too many layers here. I thought it was as simple as right or wrong . . . ?but it’s not. My chest feels tight again, and my eyes go hot.

Corrick picks up his wineglass. “If you cry, I’ll be forced to comfort you.”

His tone says he’s teasing—but also not. It helps chase my tears back. “However will you manage?”

“Well. Forewarning that I’ll have to do something truly abhorrent to keep up my heartless reputation.”

Something tells me he’s not wholly teasing about that either. Any emotion dries up. A serving girl appears with platters laden with slabs of beef surrounded by root vegetables and a fluffy circle of pastry painted with honey.

Once she’s gone, I look at Corrick, who taps his finger against his fork before picking it up.

I mirror his movements gratefully, and we eat in silence for a moment.

“Do you think the royal apothecaries will really listen to me?” I venture softly.

“Harristan has ordered it. They will.” He rolls his eyes. “And he’s delivered a room full of records for me to review by tomorrow, so if I can find any evidence to back what you’ve already discovered, it will help.”

I straighten. “Really?”

“Yes. Between that and dealing with Allisander’s prisoners, it’ll likely take me all night.” He gives me an ironic glance. “I’m so very appreciative.”

“Why you?”

“Why not me? As much as you might like to imagine it, I don’t ride around in velvet carriages and order executions all day.”

He’schallenging me again. Not directly, but I feel it.

In a way, that reminds me of Weston Lark, too.

Corrick slices another piece of food. “Don’t pity me too much.”

“I don’t pity you.” I feel a bit breathless again. Every moment I spend here changes the way I feel about him and the way I feel about myself. “If you’re trying to figure out a way to make the medicine more effective for all of Kandala, I’m going to help you.”