But then Lochlan says, “Are you sure you want to help Oren go after Rian?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“You gave that woman so much money. I know she got to you. She got to me, too. They trust Rian. Redstone. King Galen? Whatever. Theylovehim. They put a lot of hope in him, and they did that for a reason.”
“I know.” I sigh. “On theDawn Chaser, once we knew the truth, he kept insisting that he hadn’t told many lies. After speaking to the tailors, I find myself thinking that perhaps Rian truly was working in earnest for his people. He simply went about it in the wrong way.”
Lochlan shrugs and finishes the apple. “Sounds familiar, Weston Lark.”
My eyes narrow. I cannot believe I’m trapped with him for a companion. “You’re the worst, too, Lochlan.”
He wipes his hands on his trousers like an absolute savage. “Quit stalling. You told Crane you were an assassin.” His eyes are piercing. “Let’s go find this man so you can do what you do so well.”
CHAPTER SIX
Corrick
By the time darkness falls, Lochlan and I are down to our last two coins. We’ve paid to keep the room for the night, as we’ll need a place to return to once we’ve taken care of Ford Cheeke. It also provides us with a meeting point if we get separated—though I’m beginning to reach a point where Ilongfor separation from him.
We’ve also spent a bit of silver in a few taverns, trying to learn about the people here. As we discovered in the clothier’s shop, the king is well loved, and it’s impossible to hide our accents, so I don’t bother trying. Everyone seems happy that their king has returned safely from Kandala, but everyone seems wary of Harristan and what the future might hold. The people reallyaredistrustful of my father—and my grandfather, I learn in one tavern—which makes me wonder about the trade agreements that went wrong so many years ago. But Rian’s influence is strong, and it’s clear that they’re ready to take a chance on Kandala if it means they can access steel to rebuild their bridges—especially sinceRian is back, and our presence is evidence that Kandala sent people with him. When we mention that we’re seeking passage to Fairde, we’re often given the same names to contact that we were given by the tailors.
One barkeep near the harbor slid our silver back across the bar before we could say a word. “Gossip already made it this far, and you boys should know Crane’s people are in the back room. Run afoul ofthem, and they’ll be selling your body parts back to Kandala in exchange for their precious steel. Come back after dark. They’ll be gone by then. You need to find a new tavern for now.”
We didn’t have enough silvers for another tavern, so we walked loops through the streets, mapping the turns, learning the paths to the harbor, finding convenient places to hide if the need arises.
Well, that’s whatI’vebeen doing. Lochlan hasn’t said much, so he could be singing nursery rhymes in his head for all I know.
I should probably be figuring out how I’m going to kill some man I’ve never laid eyes on, but I don’t want to think about that.
Instead, I’m thinking about what Lochlan said earlier.
You told Crane you were an assassin. Let’s go find this man so you can do what you do so well.
The words are like a handful of thorns stuck to the inside of my clothing, and I can’t escape them. They needle me at every turn. He acts like I was a heartless executioner. I know this is an image I spent years cultivating for myself, but I hate it. I hate that he sees me that way. I hate thateveryonein Kandala sees me that way, and I can’t even escape it on an island where no one knows who I am.
I shouldn’t care. Ishouldn’t. It doesn’t matter what Lochlan thinks of me. I’ve had hundreds of prisoners in the Hold spit their hatred right in my face.
But every single step pokes me with a reminder.
Once the sun eventually drifts behind the buildings, we come to a stop in a shadowed alley near the tavern.
“Should we go back inside?” Lochlan says. “Was he trying to tell us he could help us?”
“We’re going to have to ask someone directly about Ford Cheeke,” I say. “No one has mentioned his name yet, which is concerning. I wouldn’t put it past Oren to trick us.”
“Crane said he monitors shipping logs. It’s also possible that Ford just doesn’t sailhimself.”
Yes. That is also possible. I chew at the inside of my cheek. The food from the boarding house seems like we ate it days ago, and hunger gnaws at my gut. I’m tired from walking all day, too. I hurt my ankle weeks ago when the rebels captured me and Tessa, and though I thought it was healed, it seems that a day of trudging along cobblestones brought more of a strain than I was ready for. At this point, I’m tempted to steal a boat and sail it to Fairde myself.
I just don’t know how.
But is that an option? Have I been overcomplicating things?
I look at Lochlan. “If we stole a boat, could you sail it to Fairde?”
“I thought you were worried about Rian capturing you and holding you for ransom.”
“I am. But if we stole a boat, we wouldn’t have to worry about anyone warning him that we were coming.”
