My vision blurred. All of these people had starved; they were discarded out-of-sight from the road and far enough from any town to prevent sickness from taking root.
“Take the reins.” Quinn’s voice was a command, and I followed it without thinking twice. Niro continued to walk away, but the sight was burned into my mind.
Then he brought his arm up, placing his hand over my eyes so that there was only darkness. The smell of him wasn’t enough to break away from that cloying stench behind us, but it did stabilize me enough that I could process what I was thinking.
Every one of those people weremypeople now, forgotten while those in charge gallivanted about the countryside.
Fuck Adelaide. Fuck appearances. Fuck—
Quinn’s forehead pressed into the nape of my neck, and my thoughts went quiet.
“I know,” he murmured against me. “I know what you’re thinking. You want to turn back and conclude the tour.”
I nodded, and his hand slipped free from my eyes, securing itself around my waist.
“You need to see your country. Every festering wound, every starving child, every corner of the map where people are suffering. There are many people still breathing out there who need to know that they are seen. Remember what you're feeling now, Alana, and use it to do good. Use this tour not to perform, but to gather intelligence about the world beyond the castle, the forest, and yourself.”
His hand opened. Every finger connected to my stomach, where life bloomed within.
“And I’ll be right here with you. It’s where I want to be.”
We returned to the road and found the others in a commotion. Nicolas was at the head of it, surrounded by guards as a roughhewn woman stood in front of him. Beside her was a little boy with wild, unkempt hair and a dirty complexion; neither one of them had washed in some time.
I climbed down from Niro and approached, and Quinn was swift to accompany me. We caught the tail end of the argument,though the woman’s accent was so thick and her voice so weak, I struggled to understand a word of it.
I rushed over to Nicolas, furrowing my brow, and signed quickly.“What’s going on?”
“This woman wants to sell us her son.” Nicolas frowned. “For a single loaf of bread.”
The stranger turned to me, desperation written in every premature wrinkle of her face. “I cannot watch him starve anymore.” She broke off, pushing her son forward. “You'd feed him, wouldn't you? Please?”
I looked at her skeletal hands and sharply turned to my husband.“Nicolas.”
“Godsdammit, we cannot save every child in Antier.”
“No, but we can save this one.”
Every member of the procession was watching. I saw my parents among the crowd and waved them nearer. When Mother was close enough, I pulled her sleeve and whispered in her ear.
“The boy is hungry. See that he’s fed.”
“Lady Alana!” came another voice, and Lady Maeve came rushing over. Her cheeks flushed. “I—I mean,QueenAlana…my husband and I did not finish our meal. We can spare the woman some cheese and fruit.”
Her pale blue eyes met the desperate mother’s, and she bowed. Nicolas was absolutely horrified. “I’m sorry, what? Feeding them, I understand, but we’re taking in the child?”
“I will take him under my wing, King Nicolas,” Lady Maeve interjected, beholding the child with distanced affection. She crouched. “Are you hungry, small one? We’ve just come from Sunhill and have lots of food. Would you like an apple?”
The child looked to his mother. His frailty made it impossible to discern his age; he could have been anywhere from two to four. His voice was absent as he moved his mouth and clung to his mother’s skirts.
Quinn drew between us, facing the mother. “Are you sure about this, ma’am? We can send you home with food.”
“Quinn—” Nicolas started, but went ignored. Adelaidewas making her way nearer, too.
“I’ve nine sons and daughters, two grown and one no older than a babe,” the woman said slowly, trying to match our dialect as well as she could. “Three more are at home. His sister is weaker each day. I’ve lost two to hunger already.”
“All right,” Quinn said, and he took out his coin purse and placed it right into her hand. “Then this is yours. As is the food.”
“Quinn Navarro!” shouted Adelaide, drawing nearer. The viscount smiled, not an inch of regret for his actions. Behind him, the woman marveled at the weight of the stags.
