I sigh. “Exactly.”
“Prince Corrick is always quite good with details,” he says. “And his experience in the Hold gives him an edge that you lack. I rather doubt Francis would have dared to come near him with an ax, of all things.”
“I wasn’t sure it was possible to feel worse, Quint. Thank you.”
He resumes his writing. “Though it may be worth considering that Annabeth likely wouldn’t have found the courage to speak to Prince Corrick atall.”
I’m not sure what to say to that.
Eventually, he sets the pencil down, then begins flipping through the book, going back a few pages. He holds it open near the light so I can read. “Here. The day after you agreed to send them to Ostriary, you chose to send Lochlan instead of Laurel Pepperleaf, as a measure of goodwill for the people, as well as a means of protection, so he could not launch another revolution in Corrick’s absence. You had me draft a letter to Baron Pepperleaf in appreciation for his daughter’s offer to attend the journey, but insisting on declining for her protection.”
I look at his brief notes to that effect, then back up at his face. “I remember.”
He flips back a few pages. “On the day you suspected Corrick of conspiring with the rebels or the Benefactors, you sent the army into the Wilds to collect him.” His hand runs down the page, then stops somewhere near the center. “Look. You specifically gave orders not to arrest the people. Corrick only. Tessa if she was with him. You did not want the army’s presence in the Wilds to stoke revolution.”
I frown. I don’t understand why he’s showing me this.
Quint keeps flipping. “Here. Jasper Gold wanted a special tax on trade routes through Mosswell, but he’d conspired with Sallister to make sure they both got a cut. When you approved it, you ensured the tax went to the benefit of the sector, not to line either of their pockets.” He taps at the page. “I did enjoy the look on his face when he realized what you’d done.”
This page is full of tightly packed notes. It must have been from a meeting with the consuls. Quint’s handwriting is small and hard to read, full of shorthand. Messy too, because he was writing quickly. It takes me a moment to figure out that he refers to the consuls with their initials. AC for Arella Cherry, RP for Roydan Pelham, and so on. It looks like many of them protested the tax outright. I remember that meeting now, because Corrick had been the one to identify that the tax was somewhat justified, but I wanted to make sure the money was going where it was needed.
I take the book from Quint, because it’s hard to read in the flickering lantern light.
He shifts a bit closer, then leans over to tap a finger over two words. “I rarely editorialize, but . . . ?well.”
JG annoyed.
I smile, remembering. “Jasper Gold. Hewasannoyed.”
“Yes. He asked me to have a porter call for a carriage the very instant the meeting was over.” He pauses. “Prince Corrick never fails to take action in the moment, but you always look out for the entire kingdom. Do not doubt yourself. I don’t know that he could calm and rally the people the way you have.”
That makes me look up, and I realize that we’re very close, almosttucked around the lantern, the book held between us. Quint’s eyes are on the pages, and when he goes to turn another, his fingers brush mine.
It’s a bare touch, brief and meaningless, but somehow it contains the force of a lightning strike. It’s so startling that I nearly draw back. I have to swallow, to force myself still while he turns another page.
I don’t know how he has the talent to annoy me tono end—and then sit beside me in the dark and offer encouragement so offhandedly.
Quint has worked in the palace for years, so we have a thousand moments between us. Maybe a million. Some have been absolutely interminable, like when he demands that I weigh in on the color selection of table linens, when I absolutely could not care less. But others have been downright intimate, from the time I dressed his wounds, to the time when he dressedmine. When Tessa’s friend Karri stitched up my thigh after I’d been shot by the night patrol, he let me clutch his hand until I thought I might break his fingers.
My thoughts are scattering dangerously, and my cheeks feel warm. I need to remember myself. It was easy in the palace because I was surrounded by protocol. When I was younger, I could escape the Royal Sector and forget myself for a time, but once I was crowned king, I knew what was expected of me. I had rigid rules to follow, and deviating from them could mean disaster.
Here, I have nothing. I’m wearing patched broadcloth and wool, sitting outside in the middle of the night. It was bad enough when I snatched the book out of Quint’s hands, when that spark of challenge hung in the air. I should go back inside before I do anything else.
I don’t.
Quint continues turning pages as I watch. I’m not sure what he’s looking for, but his notes go onforever. Several apply to meetings I was a part of, but most of the time, I have no idea what his scrawled shorthand is even about.
Linens -24?
Geo -morning
Heath -discuss tea leaves
Pr Corr -interrupt dinner
I stop his turning and tap that one. “What was this?”
He leans close to read, and he has to think for a moment. “Prince Corrick was dining with Hugh Jansson.”
