Complications.
Olive puts her hand over mine, and I blink, surprised to see that her eyes are full as well.
“You can tell me,” she says again. “I’ll listen.”
“Corrick wasn’t my husband,” I say, and my voice breaks. “But I loved him.” The tears spill over. “I loved him so much.”
She comes around to me and wraps me up in her arms. Corrick and Erik would probably be warning me away, telling me to be on the lookout for a trap. But there’s too much emotion in the air, and I can’t look at every single person with so much cynicism. I just can’t. Her arms tighten on my back, and I press my eyes into her shoulder, and I sob until I lose track of time.
At some point I run out of tears, and I lift my head. I feel wrung out.
On the counter beside me is a pile of grass and wildflowers, most of them with roots and dirt still clinging to them. I frown.
“From Ellmo,” says Olive. “He came in and saw you crying.”
My heart melts. “That is very sweet.”
“He has his moments.” She reaches for a kitchen cloth and blotsat my face. “I’msureyou couldn’t do that to the drunken lout who’s probably going to need new bedding later. Do you feel better?”
I remember the way Erik seemed so uncomfortable with my tears in the rowboat. “I do, actually.”
“Good.” She hesitates. “Is it bad that I’m dying to hear about everything Rian did wrong?”
That makes me laugh through the last of my tears, and for the first time, my heart seems to settle, just the tiniest bit. I trust Erik, but this is a different kind of comfort, to share grief with someone who can understand it so acutely. “No. I’ll tell you everything.”
And I do.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Corrick
Now thateveryonebelieves I’m Prince Corrick—whether in truth or playing a role—keeping track of my identity gets a lot easier. Lochlan and I have spent a day learning the streets of Silvesse, but at midnight, I’m able to walk right up to the door of the Harbor Station at nightfall and request an audience with Mr. Cheeke.
While we’re waiting to be admitted, Lochlan leans close. “Lina and Mouse are in the alley.”
I sigh. “Making sure we do as we’re told, I’m sure.”
Once we’re inside, Ford Cheeke spares no time. He drops a piece of parchment on the table in front of me.
“Our king has responded,” he says.
I pick up the paper.
Prince Corrick of Kandala is dead. Oren Crane is attempting to trick you to gain access to me.
My heart stalls in my chest. Maybe I really am an idiot, because this is not an outcome I envisioned.
Lochlan is staring at me rather desperately, and I realize he doesn’t want to admit he can’t read it.
“So Rian thinks I’m dead,” I say to Ford, giving Lochlan the information he needs. “Your king iswrong. I proved my identity to you.”
He spreads his hands. “We might be at an impasse. Short of delivering you to him directly, I’m unsure how to convince him otherwise.”
I’m unsure, too. I stand there thinking, desperate for a new way.
I can’t walk out of here a failure. I have no doubt Lina and Mouse are waiting to drown us in the harbor if Ford doesn’t give us good news.
“What about Tessa?” Lochlan says quietly, and I look at him.
