I run a hand over my face, then nod. “Go ahead. Open the door. I did sayday or night.”
“Wait!” Quint hisses from the other side of the room. “A moment,please.”
I think he must be in some state of undress, but he’s not. Instead, he strides across the room, fetchesmytunic from where I tossed it at the end of the bed, and holds it out to me.
I stare at him.
He doesn’t falter. “I thought you might not want to greet your people shirtless,” he says, and my eyes narrow.
Another knock sounds at the door, louder this time.
I snatch the tunic out of Quint’s hand. “Go ahead,” I say to Thorin again. As I pull the tunic over my head, I realize we’re the only three in the dimly lit room. “Has Saeth not returned from patrol?”
“No,” says Thorin, and in that one word, I can hear his concern. But then he opens the door.
I’m wondering if it will be another group of men with axes and hammers, but I’m surprised to find a middle-aged woman on the doorstep. Her graying hair is in a long braid hanging over her shoulder, and she’s wringing her hands.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “I know it’s late—”
“It’s fine,” I say. “Come in.”
Quint is already lighting the candles on the table, drawing the chairs back. The woman hesitates in the doorway, glancing from me to Thorin and then to Quint. Her handwringing turns to fingers gripping knuckles, and she appears ready to flee.
“I shouldn’t be here,” she says quickly. “My husband didn’t want me to come. I—I had to wait for him to fall asleep. I—I’ll just—” She backs through the door.
“Wait,” I say, but she’s already off the small porch. By the time I make it to the doorway, she’s in the yard, scurrying into the darkness. “Please,” I call. “Wait. I’ll hear whatever you have to say.”
She stops before she reaches the trees. “I heard that you granted amnesty to those who held the Royal Sector.”
I step down off the porch, but as soon as my bare feet touch the dirt, she looks like she might bolt, so I just nod. “I did.”
“I wasn’t there. That night. I—I wasn’t there.”
I frown. I’m not sure what she’s trying to tell me. “But you were a part of it?”
She takes another step closer to the trees, until she’s almost invisible in the darkness. “I’m not admitting anything.”
Talking to people in the Wilds is so very different from talking to people in the palace. In the Royal Sector, everyone always has a hidden agenda. Words are barbed like weapons, and every syllable is calculated. I’m generally good at sensing when the consuls are lying to me, to say nothing of the courtiers who simper at dinner every night. I have no hesitation in cutting through their nonsense. If I’m not decisive and sharp, it’s seen as weakness. They circle me like sharks who sense blood in the water.
If I’m sharp with this woman, there’s a good chance I’ll never see her again, so I sit down on the step. “Are you worried I’ll punish you if you were?” I say quietly. “Amnesty wasn’t just for people who were there that night. I know you were all desperate. I said I wanted things to change, and I meant it. You can speak freely.” I lean forward, then brace my forearms on my knees. “Besides, it may not be obvious, but I’m currently without a throne. Truly, you have nothing to fear.”
She’s silent for a while, considering that, but she eventually draws closer, pulling her shawl tightly around her shoulders. I glared at Quint when he offered me the tunic, but now I’m glad for it, because there’s a chill in the night air. My bare feet are freezing against the ground, but I’m worried she’ll bolt again if I stand up.
I gesture beside me. “Please. Sit.”
She regards me for a moment, then eases forward to gingerly perch on the step beside me.
“What’s your name?” I say.
“Annabeth, sir. King? Your Majesty.” She frowns and tugs hershawl closer, then bites her lip. “I—I don’t know what to call you. A lot of people have been calling you the Fox.”
The Fox.Violet started that, when I was an outlaw leaving coins on steps and stumps and windowsills. Now that I’m living among them, I wonder if it’s easier to think of me as someone separate from the king. As if I’m not the man who, in their eyes, simply lazed about the palace and allowed his brother to execute people for stealing medicine they needed to survive.
A lot of them used to call me Horrible Harristan, the way they called my brother Cruel Corrick.
Annabeth didn’t show up with an ax, so she can honestly call me whatever she wants.
I glance over. “You don’t have to be formal. Fox is fine.”
