Erik is rowing again, heading us back the way we came. “She’s probably wary,” he says. “Rian said these shores used to be attacked by Oren Crane’s people.”
“Oh,” I say quietly. I hadn’t thought about that.
“I’m sure that’s why our house was empty.”
I hadn’t thought about that either. In all my anger at Rian, I forgot that Ostriary faced its own tragedies.
Erik is right. I’m sure Rian’s regret is genuine.
But he was still a liar. He did a lot of terrible things to get what he wanted. Corrick is dead, and he has to know Harristan won’t forgive him for that. If he needs steel for Ostriary, he might do something even worse to get it.
That gives me an idea. “Maybe I don’t have to lie at all.”
Erik looks back at me, pulling hard on the oars so we cut smoothly through the water. “Oh?”
“He still needs steel. He let Corrick die, so he must be worried that Harristan is going to set Ostriary on fire when he finds out.”
“I’ll help light the match.”
“Me too. But neither country can sustain a war. Rian knows Harristan listened to me about the Moonflower. I think he’d believe that Harristan would listen to me again. Like you said, no one knew who Rian was bringing back, because he didn’t know himself.” Rage is burning in my gut. Erik is right. Anger is so much more powerful. “I don’t need to lie about anything at all. Maybe I just need to convince him that I’m the only one who can help him get what he wants.”
CHAPTER THREE
Harristan
When I was a boy, sneaking into the Wilds was an adventure. I’d have my brother by my side, and we’d lose ourselves among the people, spending coins and eating sweets and pretending to be Sullivan and Wes, just two boys who could escape the trappings and rigid rules of palace life for a little while. At the end of the night, we could always sneak back into the Royal Sector, climbing a rope into my chambers or following a tunnel into the empty palace kitchens. We never had to worry about a hot meal or a warm bed or a pair of boots that fit.
In retrospect, I’m ashamed to think that we were playing at being poor, though we never had to live it.
Now, I’m living it.
Some things, I’ve learned to ignore. The first time I was confronted with a straw mattress, I thought I’d never sleep again, but now I hardly notice. The autumn wind whistles through loose shutters and cracked windows at night, but I’ve been taught tostoke the fire and tie the curtains tight to keep the warmth in. My clothes are all borrowed or donated, and nothing fitswell, but everything keeps me warm, so they’ll do. I still have the boots I originally took from the palace, which should last me a while. The worst are the insects and rodents that seem to be everywhere. That might be the hardest thing to bite my tongue about—but I do.
Food doesn’t seem scarce, which keeps taking me by surprise. So many of the people here are thinner than they should be. I’ve been sharing a small two-room house with Quint and my two guards, Thorin and Saeth, but meals have been delivered twice a day. On the seventh day, when dinner is delivered, it’s two entire roasted chickens, a full loaf of bread, a steel bowl full of salted root vegetables, and another bowl full of fruit.
I stare at all the food, and then at the woman delivering it. Her name is Alice, and at first I thought she was young, because she’s nearly a foot shorter than I am, but I’ve learned that she’s closer to my age. Her voice always shakes a bit when she talks to me. I’m pretty sure it’s less because ofme, and more the fact that Thorin or Saeth usually loom at my side.
Tonight, it’s Thorin. My guards don’t wear their palace livery anymore, but they’ve kept their weapons, and there’s no undoing years of training and discipline. They’re wary of everyone in the Wilds. It’s nearly impossible for them to look harmless. Between the two of them, Thorin always looks a bit more severe, too. When Alice eases the tray onto the table, she gives me a quick, crooked curtsy, then edges immediately toward the door. “W-we hope that will be enough for you.”
“More than plenty,” I say, because it’s enough forsixpeople, and Saeth is out walking a patrol. He won’t be back for hours, andhe won’t go hungry either. I’ve heard my guards are offered food and drink at every campfire they pass. “Thank you, Alice.”
She nods and slips back through the door.
I move to shove the letters I was writing into a pile, but Quint reaches across the table to put a hand down to keep them in place. “Finish first,” he says.
The command takes me by surprise. My eyes flick up and meet his. I wait for him to falter, to hesitate, todefer—the way he would in the palace.
He doesn’t. “If you please,” he adds. “Karri is waiting with the runners. It will be dark soon.”
I sigh tightly, because I’m hungry—but he’s right. I reach for the kohl pencil I’ve been using.
“Go ahead and eat, Thorin,” I say pointedly. “One of us should.”
“I can wait.”
I put the pencil back to the paper, and I fight to keep a childish scowl off my face. My focus should be on the three consuls we aim to reach, to see if I have any allies left among the elites. I have to be very careful not to give away any information about where I am hidden, because I could puteveryonehere at risk—though I have to share enough so the letter will be believed.
But instead, my thoughts are on Quint and these tiny moments of . . . ?well, not quite defiance. He’s never rude or disrespectful.
