Corrick grabs hold of me before I can. He pulls me hard against him, his arms tight against my back. His breathing is quiet in my ear, but the beat of his heart is so hard against my chest. I wrap my arms around his neck.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I’m so very sorry.”
His face presses into my neck, and it’s only then that I hear his breath shudder. I stroke a hand over the back of his head, and I remember all the times we talked about appearances, and cynicism, and vulnerabilities, and I hope I’m not weakening him now.But he’s clutching at me so tightly and his breath is shaking against my neck and I don’t know what else to do. He shouldn’t have to learn that his brother is dead while people are cheering for his safe return.
“Corrick,” I whisper again, and I realize I’m crying, too. “Oh, my love. I’m so sorry.”
“Your Majesty,” says a voice, and Corrick snaps his head up. The desperation on his face is so absolute. His eyes are wide and searching, as if his brother has suddenly appeared, as if this has all been a moment of grand confusion.
But Harristan is dead.
This is someone addressing Corrick.
Seeing the realization dawn in his eyes is like watching him learn the truth all over again. His gaze fractures, his shoulders nearly fall, his body jerks like he’s taken a blow.
But Corrick draws himself up at once. All emotion put away, locked down.
The man who spoke is Jonas Beeching, and he’s risen to his feet. “Forgive me,” he says gently. “I know that this is a shock. But much has happened during your absence, and there are many matters that must be addressed—and swiftly.”
Corrick goes rigid. I didn’t think his eyes could go colder, but they do. His hand slips out of mine, and he turns to face the consul. I shiver at the sudden distance, and I want to grab his hand back. Not just for me, but for him, too. I wonder if it was like this for Harristan when their parents died. Were the former king and queen lying in pools of blood, while the consuls suddenly turned to Harristan, at age nineteen, and started making demands of him?
With a shock, I realize it must have been exactly like that.
And now they’re going to do the same thing to Corrick.
Lochlan steps forward, and he must be realizing the exact same thing. “Look,” he snaps at the consul, who blinks at his brazenness. “The man just lost hisbrother, so you can give him a few minutes—”
“Iassureyou,” says Consul Beeching, “we cannot—”
“Enough,” says Corrick, and for as cold as his voice is, he sounds exactly like his brother. So much so that everyone around us goes quiet. I think he even startles himself. But after a bare hesitation, he continues. “Consul Beeching, please have your people see to Princess Olive of Ostriary. This is her ship, and she graciously returned me home. We can take care of whatever needs addressing for Kandala immediately.”
“Good,” says the consul. “I do have a carriage waiting.” He gestures ahead.
Rocco moves to clear a path, and Corrick nods, moving to follow. Consul Beeching looks to some of the people surrounding him, and I realize Karri and Thorin are back behind several guards who have followed the consul. Those same guards are now moving to separate me and Lochlan from Corrick, drawing us away, propelling us in the opposite direction.
I gasp. “Corrick!” I call, but the crowd is too loud, and I don’t think he’ll hear me.
“Miss Cade,” says the consul, “you will go with—”
“No!” Corrick turns around at once. His eyes meet mine, and again, I see that flicker of panic, of desperation, ofneed. But only for a moment, and only for me. Then it’s iced over. “Miss Cade will remain with me.”
There are a few gasps around us, but I don’t hear who makes them.
“Lochlan and Karri should follow us as well,” Corrick says.
The guards go still. Now it’s Lochlan’s turn to look at him in shock.
Consul Beeching’s mouth works silently for a moment, and he glances at Lochlan a little dubiously, but then he says, “Yes, of course, Your Majesty. This way.”
I’m worried that we’re all going to be forced to share a carriage, but there are several waiting, and I’m glad to see that Karri and King Harristan’s guards Thorin and Saeth have also followed us.
“Tessa and I will share a carriage alone,” Corrick declares, and that’s all he says before he barely allows time for a footman to open the door to one. Once we’re inside, the door slams, and the ice simplymeltsfrom his expression. His face falls into his hands.
Then he doesn’t make a sound.
It’s so silent in the carriage, but I climb onto the bench beside him and wrap my arms around him. After a moment, he picks up my hand and pulls it to his heart, the way a child would clutch a treasured doll. When the driver cracks a whip and the carriage begins to move, we remain just like that.
I have no idea how long we have, but it won’t be enough time.
