Boldness, maybe. Audacity?
Because this isn’t the first time. It’s not even the second. Or the fourth.
What’s odd is that I can’t decide if I’m bothered. The question of it keeps tugging at me. I don’treallymind. At least, I don’t think so. Or maybe I do, but it’s like the straw mattress and the rats. Maybe I’m learning to ignore it. My staff of hundreds has beenreduced to a staff ofthree, and their loyalty feels dangerously precarious. Any of them could walk out of here and claim a hefty reward for my capture, so I’m not going to take a stand over writing letters.
Especially when Quint is right. Karri and the runnersarewaiting.
I just . . . ?I want to stall alittle. The longer we wait, the greater the chance that Corrick could return. I wouldn’t have to face all of this alone.
As soon as I have the thought, I realize how very selfish it is. Howcowardly. I force it out of my head, and I start writing again.
Tessa’s friend Karri is taking runners to deliver letters to the homes of Jasper Gold, Jonas Beeching, and Roydan Pelham, a very calculated attempt to see which consuls mightnotbe conspiring against the throne. I’m hesitant to send away one of the few people I trust here in the Wilds, but I trust the consuls so little that I have to risk it. I’m most doubtful about Roydan Pelham. He’s been working with Arella Cherry, who I saw working with Christopher Huxley, the captain of the palace guard, and Laurel Pepperleaf, whose father is slated to take over the richest sector in Kandala. If they’re all working together, it could go very poorly for me, especially if Allisander Sallister comes to power.
But Roydan was always kind to me, especially after my parents were assassinated. He was the only consul who didn’t seem to volley for power or try to have my crown ripped right off my head. So my letter to him focuses on his loyalty, how he has always seemed to care for me and Corrick, on how much we have appreciated his kindness toward us. I talk about his care for his sector, when several other consuls have done nothing for the people of Kandala. I ask if he’s willing to put the people first one more time, as I am.
I mean the words genuinely, but I’m also hoping they’ll prove to be strategic if he shares this letter with Arella or anyone else.
I hope they make it clear thatIam willing to stand with the people, no matter what the cost.
I finish the letter and sign it. I don’t have my seal, but I write my initials inside the curls of a few letters in the way I do to prevent forgeries. It’s not as perfect as it would be with a fountain pen, but it’s the best I can do. Karri is set to take the letters to three different sectors, to use the back roads and hidden courier trails farthest from each destination to help prevent discovery.
But it meansdayswill pass before we know if any of the consuls are on our side. Possibly weeks.
As soon as I finish my final flourish, Quint all but snatches the paper up from under my hand, folding it crisply to match the others. “I’ll take these to Karri.” He’s through the door before I can say anything at all.
I stare after him for a moment, then set down my pencil and run a hand over the back of my neck. I haven’t touched the food, so Thorin is still waiting.
All the guards go by their last name when they’re on duty, and until a few weeks ago, I couldn’t have identified many of them by their first name. Outside of their ability to do their jobs, I didn’t know much about any of them at all. But here, “on duty” seems to have become an endless assignment. I try not to address them so officially when they should be enjoying moments of freedom.
“Sit, Ben,” I say. “Eat.”
He sits, and as we pull food from the platter, he offhandedly says, “I thought Master Quint was ready to rap your knuckles.”
I glance up in surprise, because I hadn’t realized it was apparent to anyone but me.
Thorin sees my expression and frowns. “Forgive me. I shouldn’t have—”
“No,” I say. “I honestly thought the same.”
He flicks his eyes at the ceiling. “I shouldn’t be surprised that he would figure out a way to stage a revolution throughpaperwork.”
That startles a laugh out of me, which makes him smile—but then my laughter turns into a coughing fit that’s so strong I have to press my forearm to my mouth so no one outside the house will hear.
Thorin’s smile vanishes, and he’s staring at me with concern. After a solid minute passes with no relief, he pours a cup of water, too. He looks like he’s ready to go for the door, but I glare at him between coughs, and he freezes.
I’ve spent days trying to hide this, but it’s getting harder. Once I can breathe, I take a gulp of water, then inhale slowly until I’m sure I won’t cough again. “Eat,” I say. “I’m fine.”
But I’m not, and he knows it.
There’s so little medicine here. I get a dose every few days, but it’s nothing compared to what I was receiving in the palace. Sometimes at night I hide under my blankets and cough into my pillow so they won’t know how bad it is. Thorin and Saeth have begun working with the men and women who want to train to stand against the consuls, and I should join them, but I simply don’t think my lungs could manage it—and I can’t afford to reveal any weakness to these people.
Thorin is still staring.
“I’m fine,” I snap. “Sit down. Eat.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” He drops into his chair at once. “Forgive me.”
That’s not better.
