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“Because he’s a prince, and you’re only an underling official?”

“This is where we part ways. Good night.”

“Wait, I can’t row back alone. Could you ask Nicostratus—”

“Head to the canal. I’ll send an aklo with you.”

I sigh. “You think I’ll cause problems.”

Quin stretches his arm out for me to start down the path. “I know you will.”

* * *

The morning has not gone well.

I’m on my knees in the east pavilion now, surrounded by gasping aklas as a stern-looking redcloak delivers a message from the king.

I shouldn’t have gloated.

“. . . theft from the king’s garden. You’re to report to his majesty’s liaison for discipline.”

I glance back at the safety of the aklas, only for them to watch me pulled away.

The trudge to the house is grim as I contemplate the prospect of punishment. Knowing what I know about the royal city, I probably won’t be allowed to heal myself either.

Pink-Bow’s brother died from a caning.

Would this be so harsh? For such a small transgression?

I spy Quin a stretch away from a gold-sashed aklo and whisper to him as I pass. “Will the king kill me for this?”

I catch a shadow of a frown.

The gold-sashed aklo barks at me. “Kneel.” I drop to the path, wincing at the smack. “Do you confess?”

I gulp. Trying to deny it might get me in worse trouble.

I nod.

“A second person was seen there. Who were they?”

I feel Quin’s gaze on me. Momentarily, I wish I could name him, maybe avoid too harsh a punishment by sharing it, but... This is the king’s quarters. Such behaviour from a person of Quin’s status may not be tolerated, and the infusion I gave him can’t defend against that. Nor would it prevent his demise if... I swallow a sick rush up my throat and shake my head.

The gold-sash glances at Quin, as if hesuspects... jerkily, I shuffle forward, drawing his attention back to me. “No one else was involved.”

With a furrowed brow, the gold-sash liaison slowly unravels the parchment he carries. “You will grow ten more pearl heart plants in this garden bed, by the king’s command.”

My jaw drops. “Grow them? From scratch?”

The gold-sash’s lips twitch. “Would you prefer a more traditional punishment?”

My cheeks burn and I lower my eyes.

As the liaison leaves, I call out, “Uh, do you have seeds for me to plant?”

But he doesn’t spare me a backwards glance. I flop heavily on my haunches and throw my head up in a thankful prayer to whatever deity has taken pity on me.

Quin comes to a halt beside me.