“Thorin suggested approaching two of the younger members of my personal guard,” I say. “Reed and Sommer. You know them?”
He nods. “Yes.”
“Karri is gone, but it could be some time before we hear back from any of the consuls. We need more insight from inside the palace. From the Royal Sector. The men here are ready to fight, and it’s time to make a small move. We have a plan. If the men can quietly bring Reed and Sommer without notice, I would ask them to bring your wife and children, too.” I pause. “If you’re willing. This is not without risk either.”
Saeth hasn’t moved. He’s still staring out at the night. Eventually, he looks at me.
“You don’t need to risk yourself for my family,” he says.
“Why not? You’re risking yourself for me.”
He lets out a breath, then shakes his head. “I can’t ask for this.”
“You’re not asking. I’m offering. Are you willing or not?”
“I’m willing,” he says, and his voice is very quiet. “Thank you.”
He shouldn’t be thanking me. Not yet. I have no idea if any of my decisions are the right ones. So manywrongones led me to this point.
But Saeth hasn’t looked away, and I have to say something. I gesture toward the door. “You should rest. You’ve earned it.”
“Thorin and I agreed we wouldn’t leave you alone,” he says.
“His Majesty is not alone,” Quint says from behind me, and I turn my head to realize he never left the porch. He’s seated against the wall, his little book open on his lap while he writes, a lantern beside him on the boards.
He turns a page and continues writing. “I can certainly shout for one of you if more trouble appears.”
Saeth looks like he wants to object, but he really must be exhausted, because he says, “Yes, Master Quint,” and then he disappears into the house as well.
It leaves me alone on the porch with the Palace Master.
Or . . .whateverQuint is, now that we’re no longer welcome in the palace.
I rub a hand over the back of my neck and sigh, then shift so I’m leaning against the post that supports the roof. I’m tired, and I need to return to bed, too, but I’m also somewhat rattled. I don’t know what Annabeth really wanted, but if she planted explosives, she could have knowledge that might be useful later. I don’t know if we’ll be able to retrieve more guards and Saeth’s family—or if we’ll all be in the Hold by this time tomorrow.
Or maybe the men who showed up to confront me won’t think this plan is worth their time, and they’ll kill me themselves.
All of these thoughts make me feel sour and prickly and nowhere near ready to sleep again. I look at Quint. “You don’t have a family, too, do you?”
I mean for the question to be genuine, but somehow it sounds a bit argumentative. His eyes flick up from his little book. “Your Majesty, I lived in the palace.”
He says this like it’s obvious, and itis, and it makes me feel like an idiot.
I scowl and look out at the night. “I know. There could still be someone you’re . . . missing.”
“It’s kind of you to ask. But no.”
With that, he looks back at his book.
It feels dismissive. On the first day we had to flee the night patrol, Quint mentioned that Corrick asked him to look after me. It annoyed me then, and something about this moment, of the way Quint is remaining on the porch, reminds me of it.
Much like the way he put his hand down on the piece of paper, or the way he thrust a tunic at me before I answered the door.
Like I’m a child who needs minding, not the king of Kandala.
For some reason, that turns my mood even pricklier.
“What on earth are you writing?” I demand.
