“Or maybe it’s just a ransom set for a king,” says Francis. “And they’re ready to pay every cent.”
Thunder cracks overhead, making me jump. Darkness fully cloaks the road now, assisted by the clouds that obscure the moon. I wish we had a lantern, but surely that would be foolhardy.
I keep thinking about Reed’s neighbor, at the vitriol in his tone.
It’s impossible to know how far rumors have spread and if the public sentiment is like this everywhere.
I need more guards. I need at least one of the consuls to respond to my letters.
Instead, I’m on a wagon in the dark with a massive bounty on my head. When I was a boy, there were times when I was tempted to slip into the darkness and stay gone, to forget the palace and theCrown and all my obligations. Even as the Fox, I had a few moments where the idea crossed my mind—right up until the last night when I met Maxon, a young man who flirted with me for a moment, then took my hand and tried to help me escape the night patrol.
They shot him in the chest right in front of me.
My breath quickens at the memory. I only knew him for a few hours, but the final moments were terrible. I don’t want to consider that the measures Corrick put in place to protect the people from smugglers have started to have the opposite effect—that the night patrol is taking matters into their own hands. That they’re being cruel because we’ve created the illusion that we approve of cruelty.
I need to think of something else.
For some reason, my brain summons Quint and the way he recast my doubts about everything. The way he flipped pages in that little book, reminding me of our days in the palace, how I forced the consuls to put the people first.
The way he made that puzzling list of dates that he refuses to explain.
I scowl and peer into the darkness. This line of thinking isn’t much better. Surely Thorin is taking too long.
Just as I have the thought, my guard leaps onto the wagon, and I jump a mile. Thorin settles onto a bale behind us. “Forgive me,” he says, his voice low. “Sommer will find us by the mill.”
I try to calm my pounding heart, and I have to breathe shallowly to keep from erupting into coughs again. “Does he—does he—” My throat threatens to close up, and I wheeze a breath. I clench my fists, even though I know anger and tension never make this better. “Does he—seem earnest?”
Thorin frowns. “Honestly, he seems like he’s starving. I wish I’d brought food. He was begging for it. I wanted to bring him with me right now. If I weren’t worried we were being watched, I would have.”
My chest clenches. I hate what the consuls are doing to my people. I don’t even know Sommer very well. Will he join us out of desperation? Right now, there are just so many variables. I consider the rebels peeling off the wagon, determined to follow us in case there was trouble—but that was before I knew about the ransom. Now I’m worried that they’re all waiting for a chance to take us down. We only brought six of them. Could Thorin and Saeth hold off six men? Would they want to?
I need to stop thinking like this. Myownconvictions are wavering.
Besides, we have one more house to visit: Saeth’s family. Our plan is to pick them up under the guise of traveling to see a sick grandparent who’s near death. It’s the most dangerous one, because Saeth’s family is the most likely to be watched—though the rebels have followed, ready to send up the alarm so we can flee if necessary. We’re lucky enough to have the full cloak of night now, and the rain is helping. If we’re successful, we can loop back through the woods to the crossroads to pick up Reed and Sommer.
At my side, Saeth’s own tension is almost palpable. I’ve been feeling it for the entire drive. It might have been eagerness when we set off, but it’s different now, a worry punctuated by what we learned from Reed.
I’m surprised he’s not driving the horses into a gallop.
Maybe Thorin can sense it too, because he shifts closer. “You should let me go.”
Thunder rolls overhead again, followed by a flash of lightning. Saeth’s jaw is set. “No.”
“We don’t know if she’s being watched. If she reacts inanyway—”
“She won’t.”
“Your children will. They—”
“I saidno.”
But Saeth doesn’t look at me. He keeps driving the horses.
He expects me to agree with Thorin. I can tell.
“I don’t know your wife,” I say quietly. “Will she react? Will the children give us away?”
Saeth thinks about this for a long moment. When he speaks, his voice is low and rough. “I didn’t know they’d frozen the accounts. And now it’s been more than a week without word.” He hesitates. “I heard that man at Reed’s. I don’t even know what she might believe.”
