“Yes?”
“Prince Corrick of Kandala, allow me to introduce Princess Olive of Ostriary. My newest, dearest friend.”
He glances between me and her as if trying to track the course and timing of this introduction. “A pleasure,” he finally says.
Olive looks from me to him. “What are you doing?”
I take a deep breath. “Olive loves her country and has been found to be trustworthy. She has offered to grant us passage home, out of the goodness of her heart. Instead of working with Rian, would you be willing to introduceherto King Harristan soshecan negotiate for steel?”
“What?” Rian sputters.
“Tessa!” Olive gasps. “But I—I—”
I squeeze her hand tightly, then glance at Erik. “Perhaps with Rocco as her escort? For protection?” I smile sweetly. “She is a princess after all. And devoted to her people.” I look back at Olive. “Right?”
Her mouth works for a moment, but no sound comes out. She looks from me to Erik to Rian, and back to me again. “Well . . . ?yes.”
“So would you?” I say to Corrick. “Would you be willing to allowPrincess Oliveto act as liaison for negotiations with Ostriary?”
Corrick smiles. “Ah, Tessa.” He takes my hand and kisses my knuckles, then gives Olive a nod. “Princess Olive, I would indeed.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Harristan
Even with Consul Beeching’s intercession at the border, there are a lot of casualties. A lot of injuries. Worse, a lot of missing people. It takes days to sort through them all. Quint and Saeth’s family made it safely into Artis, but there’s been no sign of Thorin—or Alice, the girl who tried to help him. There’s been no sign of Violet, and no sign of Nook, the boy who helped when we faced the traitorous guards.
I know some people fled into the other sectors or went into hiding. The rebels were always rather skilled at going to ground and running from the night patrol, and this is no different. Rebel camps have been built along the river in Artis, just outside Sallister’s reach, and Consul Beeching’s guards patrol night and day. There are occasional shouts of joy when people find their way here from where they’ve been hiding and families are reunited. But as days pass and Quint and Karri and I walk among them,accompanied by Beeching’s guards, I know that there are many people who won’t be coming back at all.
By the fourth day, I ask Jonas for guards and horses and an armed escort back into the Wilds. I don’t think Sallister would be brazen enough to attack another consul’s people—if the army remains at all—and I need to see what’s left.
Jonas surprises me by joining us. We ride through the forest, and I’m struck by how deserted the area is. I’ve grown so used to the sounds of children playing, or men chopping wood, or women calling their families for dinner. Every house is deserted.
I’m dismayed to see that many of them have been torched and burned.
The soldiers were thorough.
We come to the small house that Quint and I shared for our last few days in the Wilds—surprisingly untouched—and then the one that Saeth and his family shared—burned to the ground. A tiny stuffed doll lies in the mud about twenty feet from the door, and I recognize it as one I saw Ruby clutching. Saeth isn’t with us, but I climb down from my horse to pluck it from the ground, then knock the dirt from it to tuck in my saddlebag.
As we ride on, I know we’re going to come to the cellar where Sommer was kept, and I’ve been dreading it. I don’t have any idea whether anyone would have released him during the panicked flight from the Wilds—and it might have been reckless to do so. He might have helped our attackers.
But the thought that he might be lying dead in the cellar is almost too much to bear.
Quint must sense my sudden sorrow, because he reaches out and touches my hand, just the tiniest brush of his fingertips. He’sgrown very good at these small movements now that we’re surrounded by people of grand importance again, even though I wouldn’t mind larger ones. But I look up.
“Sommer,” I say, and he nods.
Jonas hears the weight in my voice, and of course I’ve told him of the guards who tried to capture us. “Where was he held?”
I nod ahead. “This way.”
“I can have my guards retrieve his body.”
I start to shake my head—then think better of it and nod. “We can at least give him a burial.”
I hold my breath when they pull the cellar doors open, because ithasbeen several days, but instead of the stench of death, we’re confronted by Nook and Violet, armed with pitchforks, blinking in the sunlight.
“Violet!” I say in surprise. I climb down from my horse. “Nook! What are you doing in the—”
