“Why onearthwould this story give me any shred of hope?” I demand.
“Because my grandmother used to say sheknew. She always said she could feel the loss in her heart. That’s why she couldn’t be consoled. She knew they wouldn’t find her sister alive.”
I stare at him, my breathing quick. Quint reaches out and touches the center of my chest, and it’s so new that the warmth of his hand against my shirt takes me by surprise.
“Do you feel it?” he says, and his voice is so quiet, forcing me still. “You’ve known loss. In your heart, do you think he’s gone?”
His eyes flicker with firelight and stare back at me, unflinching now. In this moment, I realize he’s begging for the same kind of hope that I am.
I put a hand over his, holding his palm against my chest. My breath hitches, and I think of my brother. My brave brother, daring and reckless and downright incorrigible.
Cory.
I’d give anything for him to be here right now. I wish I’d never let him get on that ship. The thought feels selfish in so many ways.
As always, he’d be so much better at all of this.
But even though he’s absent, I don’t feel like he’sgone.
As soon as I realize it, a certainty seems to fill my chest, so cool and sure that it chases the waiting tears away and settles my pounding heart. I can breathe for the first time in hours.
“No,” I say steadily. “I don’t.”
Quint nods fiercely in agreement. “I don’t either.”
Maybe it’s ridiculous, because this is the most nebulous hope, but it gives me the greatest relief. I take a deep breath.
“Thank you.” I take his hand off my chest and clasp it between mine. Emotion is swelling in my heart. “Thank you.” I draw his hand to my face and press it to my cheek, then kiss his palm. “Thank you.”
His hand softens against my jaw, his thumb stroking over my skin. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
I go still. “Harristan,” I whisper.
He shakes his head.
“Stilla refusal?” I say. “Even now?”
That almost gets him. But then he sighs and draws back. “Well, you see, every time I consider it, I remember yet another moment and determine I simply could not possibly.”
I turn those words around in my head and determine they’re complete nonsense. “What doesthatmean?”
“I’ll remember you facing down one of the consuls, or standing in front of the rebels in the sector while they threw fire at you, or negotiating with Tessa when you wanted to reclaim the palace. Censure me if you must, but I cannot call a man like that something as simple as hisname.”
He really is going to drive me insane. I have to run a hand over my jaw.
“Just this afternoon!” he exclaims. “You squared up to that brutish man with the beard who was refusing to bring food to Sommer. He was twice your size—”
I give him a withering look. “That’s quite impossible.”
“Please don’t ruin my memory. He was possiblythreetimes your size, and you—”
“That’s enough, Palace Master.”
My use of his title draws him up short again. “Ah. Is that how it will be now?” He pushes the bowl toward me again. “Very well.Eat.”
I still don’t want to, but this time, I obey. The food has gone cold, but I consider how Leah Saeth spoke of her daughter begging for scraps while guards tormented them, and I don’t complain. I think of Reed, who was probably hungry, too, and died proving his loyalty. And despite myself, I think of a bound Sommer trying to forage for chicken feed in the cold cellar. I shouldn’t have any empathy for treasonous guards, but I do. I can’t help it.
But I eat my cold stew. Quint sits with me the whole time.
