My chest clenches at the thought. Much like last night, I hate this.
The worst part is that I understand why they did it, the same way I understood the dark note in Saeth’s voice when he said he had a choice to make. But it’s the first time I’ve felt pulled in both directions like this. Sommer might have betrayed us—but he was still one of my guards. And he wouldn’t have done this if he hadn’t been driven to it.
“What did you feed him?” I say, and I keep my tone level, without censure.
“I threw some hay down there,” says another man.
A woman nearby offers a dark laugh. “I offered some of my chicken feed.”
“Did you peck for some food, soldier?” taunts the first. There are flecks of grain stuck to the blood on Sommer’s face, which make me think that he did.
One of the other men makes clucking noises, and they all laugh.
“Enough,” I snap.
They’re all jolted into silence.
I look at Francis. “I asked you to feed him a meal.”
He glares right back at me. “Yeah, wellhekilled half our people.”
“No. The others may have, but he didn’t. He was trying to captureme. He was desperate forfood, just as you were all desperate for medicine. We will not stoop to these means.” I look at the man who made the mocking chicken sounds. “You will fetch him a proper meal. Now.”
He’s an older man with an impressive beard and an even more impressive glower, and he doesn’t move. If he thinks he can intimidate me, he’s wrong. I stand my ground, and after a moment, he gives me a half-hearted nod and mumbles, “Yes, Your Majesty,” then turns away.
I glance at Saeth. “Cut his hands free.”
When he does, Sommer makes a small sound, and I see that the twine sliced into his skin in several places. He must have been bound all night because he moves gingerly, rubbing at his wrists, wincing. His eyes are fixed on my boots, his breathing still hitching a bit.
I’ve never really questioned anyone. That was always my brother’s purview. If I had occasion to speak with a prisoner, it was rare.
Honestly, the last time I faced a prisoner, it was Corrick himself, bruised and bleeding and starving, just like this.
I force thoughts of my brother out of my head. They won’t help me now.
The bearded man has returned with a basket of food and a water skin, and he practically thrusts them at me, but Saeth takes them. There must be cinnamon bread fresh from someone’s oven, because I can smell it. Quint has asked someone else to bring me a chair, so I sit.
Sommer’s head has lifted a bit, and there’s a new tightness to his shoulders, as if he wants to lunge for the food, but he doesn’t dare risk it. His throat jerks as he swallows.
“Sit,” I say. “You can eat.”
He looks up, his eyes meeting mine for the first time this morning, but he doesn’t move. I wonder if he expects me to trick him, just like the others did.
“We may not have a long history together,” I say to him, “but you spent enough time in my personal guard to know I’m rarely anything other than forthright.” I take the basket from Saeth and set it in front of him. “Eat or not, Sommer. The choice is yours.”
After a moment’s hesitation, he sits back on his heels and tugs at the cloth wrapping the food. His voice is low and rough. “Thank you, Your Majesty.” Then he takes a swig from the water skin, barely setting it down before he shoves a slice of cinnamon bread into his mouth.
The men and women of the Wilds are still nearby, surrounding us, and while I want to send them away, I keep thinking about what Saeth said, how I’ve finally won them over. They lost people, too. Their curiosity is valid. And unlike what happened to Saeth’s family, Sommer has no expectation of privacy here.
So I ignore their looming and focus on the guard in front of me. Unlike Thorin and Saeth, whom I’ve known since before I was crowned king, I don’t know Sommer well. I remember choosing him, and I remember hearing his oath. Until last night, he never gave me a reason to doubt it.
It’s terrifying to consider how fragile loyalty is. My father taught me so many things about being a king, but neverthis.
“Start at the beginning,” I say to him, and I realize Quint has taken a seat nearby, his book and pencil ready. “Tell me what happened on the day I disappeared from the palace.”
Sommer hesitates, then nods. He keeps his eyes on the food. “I didn’t come on duty until midday. By then, it was already knownthat you were missing. Master Quint was gone, and so were Thorin and Saeth. The rumors were outrageous, because everyone had a different story. Someone said a girl had sung ridiculous songs on the palace steps all night, trying to convince a footman to find Master Quint.”
He says this like it makes no sense at all, but it’s probably the truest of all the rumors. I’d been desperate, and I’d given Violet my signet ring so she could convince the footman to summon Quint—but he didn’t believe her. So she started doing anything she could think of to annoy him into acquiescence.
