“I think he’d like to apologize,” she says. “To start anew.”
“Do you think he really means it?” I say.
Olive heaves a sigh. “I can never really tell with him.”
I think about everything Rian did wrong, the way he double-crossed so many people. I remember clinging to the ropes high above the ocean, wanting to trust in his ideals. It’s so tempting to tell her yes, to think that Rian might be able to come here and forge a new beginning.
But unlike Laurel Pepperleaf, I don’t know if I could ever trust him.
“Tell him I’ll send word when I’m ready for him to visit,” I say, and she smiles.
I hug her twice as tight before she leaves that time, and I give Erik all my apothecary notes on what to do to help with morning sickness. They beg me to visit at least once, and I keep promising to go, but I don’t think I will. The memories are too raw, too harsh, too painful.
Corrick has lost too much, and I’m staying right here by his side.
It’s winter now, just past the solstice. We haven’t had much snow yet in the Royal Sector, but the northern sectors are probably getting quite a bit in the mountains. This was always a challenging season in the Wilds, because there was never enough food, never enough firewood. But in the palace, I can curl up with Corrick in front of a roaring fire at night, and he’ll draw a blanket around us both. Karri and I can drink chocolate creams and play games and read books and never go cold.
I rather like winter here.
But one morning at breakfast with Corrick, a steward brings me a letter that’s been delivered to the palace. It only has my name in script on the front, and a simple seal on the back. I don’t recognize the handwriting, and at first, the letter makes me frown.
Miss Tessa Cade,
Thank you for allowing us to select a well-bred horse from our stable for your riding needs. We believe we have found the perfect creature, a small black palfrey that is guaranteed to be sure-footed over the cobblestone streets of the Royal Sector. You areinvited to visit at your leisure to determine whether the animal is suitable.
Yours sincerely,
Sullivan Lark
I gasp out loud and drop the letter.
Corrick stares at me. “What? What is it?”
My mouth works, but no sound comes out. I can’t give him one single shred of false hope. I can’t.
I look back at the letter.
A small black palfrey.
That’s the exact kind of horse that Harristan and I shared on the night the rebels took the Royal Sector.
Sullivan.
This can’t be a coincidence. It can’t.
There’s an address at the bottom of the letter. It’s out in Moss-well, and several hours away in this weather.
“Tessa?”
I look back at Corrick. “We need to go see a man about a horse.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Sullivan
When I hear the carriage rattling down the lane, I know. The cottage is closed up tight against the weather, and we have a fire blazing in the hearth, but I throw a scarf around my neck and head out into the swirling snow anyway.
I half expect a full contingent of guards and soldiers to be following them, but I only see two horses pulling the carriage.
