Page 92

“No,” I say honestly, sitting back in my chair. “You don’t.”

For an instant, it feels as though everyone in the room lets out a breath. The wave of relief is that potent. Even the king himself seems to lose an ounce of tension.

I’m not immune myself: my heart slows. I can draw a deep breath for the first time in what feels like hours.

Then the king says, “How do you really know my brother?” and my heart wants to ricochet straight out of my chest.

Harristan smiles, but it’s shrewd. “You wear every emotion on your face.”

I slap my hands to my cheeks. “He said that, too,” I whisper.

“Are you working in league with the people who attacked the Hold?”

“What?” I sputter. “No!”

“Who are the Benefactors? Are they responsible for this?”

“I don’t know! I only heard of them at the riots. At the execution.”

“What of the smugglers we captured? Were you to distract the prince?”

“No! I didn’t—I don’t—”

“You seemed distressed when he agreed to punish them for their crimes.”

“Because I don’t want him to kill anyone. I don’t want—” My voice breaks. “Enough people are dying in Kandala. We shouldn’t be killing our own people. Especially if they’re just trying to stay alive.”

And then, to my horror, I’m crying. I’m crying in front of the king.

Soft fabric brushes my fingers, and I blink. He’s offered me a handkerchief.

I close my fingers around it. “Thank you.” My voice sounds thick and nasally. I can’t look at him now.

When he speaks, his voice is very low and almost gentle. “The King’s Justice cannot be lenient to those who attack a building in the center of the Royal Sector.” He pauses. “Surely you know this.”

I press the handkerchief to my eyes. I do. I do know it.

That’s the worst part.

“I know,” I whisper.

“You could have poisoned me with the tea,” says Harristan, his voice equally quiet.

I could have stabbed him too, but I don’t say that. “I’m not a killer.”

“Indeed not.” He pauses and inhales, but whatever he was going to say is lost because Quint comes bursting through the door.

“Forgive me, Your Majesty,” he says. “I was seeing Consuls Cherry and Pelham to another suite—” He sees us sitting and stops short. “Am I . . . interrupting?”

KingHarristan looks at Quint. “Be sure the consuls know that my coughing was tempered by Tessa’s assistance. I was lucky she was here. She formed a quick-acting tincture with few supplies—”

“It was just honey and—” I begin, but Harristan silences me with a look.

“—and I am grateful for her intervention,” he finishes.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” says Quint. He sounds nonplussed.

I feel the same way.