I can feel the undercurrent of tension among the people, though. It’s so similar to Kandala, where everyone wanted things to be better, but solutions seemed impossible. It’s clear that many people have heard a rumor that I’m from Kandala, that I’m a sign that help isn’t far off, because I catch a few secret glances, people who kiss their fingers and touch a hand to their heart when Lina and Mouse aren’t looking. But others scowl at me when it becomes clear I’m with Oren Crane’s people. Like when Mouse is slamming someone into a wall while Lina and the others egg him on, and I stand to the side, powerless. I wonder how it makes me look. I wonder how it makesKandalalook.
On the night we’re finally due to return to the harbormaster, my nerves are on edge again. I have no idea how Tessa will respond to my words. Would she write a letter back? I should have said more—but I know the message would have gone through Rian, so I wasn’t going to pour my heart out throughthatman’s lips.
I could have at least told her I loved her.
Mind your mettle.I’m such a fool.
“You look like you’re going to come out of your skin,” Lochlan says. “Calm down.”
I’m pacing the floor of our shared room, and I glance at him. He’s sitting at the table, studying a paper by candlelight, trying to puzzle out the sentence I’ve written. He’s been a quick study over the last few days, and he’s easily learned a hundred words on sight already. We had to spend silver to buy more paper. Now he hasquite the stack, both from practicing his own penmanship and from reading words that I write for him.
It’s very weird to go from watching someone scream while an ear is ripped off their head to going back to the boarding house and teaching a man to read. It’s no wonder my nerves are shot.
“Never mind about me,” I say. “This is your first full sentence. See if you can read it.”
He sighs and looks at the paper while I resume pacing. “I . . . ? w-w-wiss . . .” He blows out a frustrated breath. “Wish?”
“Yes,” I say. “Very clever.”
“Shut up. ‘I wish I were as—’ ”
“You don’t like the praise? You’re learning this all so very quickly.” I truly mean it—but I’m enjoying that he thinks I’m entirely mocking him.
“Shut up!‘I wish I were as . . .’ ” He hesitates, whispering under his breath, because he must not be willing to stumble over pronunciations out loud now. He looks up at me. “As strong?” Another glance at the paper, and he frowns. “And . . . ?bravy? Brave!”
“Yes! Go on. From the beginning. You’ll have it all now.”
He takes a breath and begins slowly, but more confidently. “I wish I were as strong and brave as Corr—” He stops short, realizing what he’s reading. He flings the pencil at me, but there’s no real vitriol to it. “You ass.”
I duck and snatch it out of the air, then resume my pacing. “And with that, the trick pony learned to read.”
He goes still, as if struck by that. He stares at the page again, then sets it on the table. Candlelight flickers across his features as his eyes trace over the letters.
“Thank you,” he says, and his voice is a bit hollow. “Your Highness.”
After days ofCory, it gets my attention, especially since he says it without a lick of disdain. I stop between the bed and the window to look at him, but I keep my voice light. “So formal all of a sudden, Master Cresswell?”
He’s not looking at me now, but he shrugs a little, abashed. “You’re the king’s brother. I sort of . . . ?forgot.” He gives a soft, humorless laugh, then nods at the paper. “I know we’re stuck here, but you . . . ? you didn’t have to do that.”
I stare at him. I’m not sure what to say.
Maybe he’s not either, because he glances at the window. “It’s almost midnight.”
As if on cue, there’s a knock at the door, and Lochlan shoves all the papers into a box, then drops a blanket on top.
I’m the one who draws the door open, and I’m not surprised to find Lina there, waiting with Mouse. “It’s time to go,Your Highness.”
The way she says it is completely at odds with the way Lochlan said it.
“Or am I still calling you Weston?” she says. “I can’t keep track.”
“I can’t either, honestly,” I say.
“He’s Weston,” says Mouse. He looks at me. “You’re Weston.”
Lina scowls. “Weknow, you idiot.” She elbows him in the stomach.
He frowns and rubs at his gut, drawing back. His eyes are wounded.
