Defend the Dawn (Defy the Night #2)(103)

“Fine,” he eventually grinds out.

But a moment later, we’re ascending the steps together, and his movements are tight and forced. His shoulders are rigid, his fingers twisting together. His jaw is so tight that I can see his throat jerk as he swallows.

I’m no stranger to people being afraid of me. But that’s usually in the Hold, where someone has been imprisoned for committing a crime.

Lochlan told Tessa that I only brought him on this journey with the intention of throwing him over the railing if I found a convenient moment. When she told me about it, I brushed off his words because it was so obviously untrue.

Until this moment, I didn’t fully consider that he believed it.

The wind catches my hair and tugs at my jacket as we reach the top and step onto the deck. I expected Blakemore, but there’s no one here. I glance over at Lochlan. “It really wasn’t an order,” I say to him.

He doesn’t look at me. “You’re the King’s Justice,” he says, as if that explains everything.

And maybe it does. I frown. “And I really didn’t invite you along with the intent to kill you.”

“That’s reassuring,” he says flatly.

I do have a limit. I round on him. “You took me prisoner and encouraged a mob to beat me to death, and then you took consuls and citizens hostage, killing them when you didn’t get your way. Yet Harristan still invited you and the rest of the rebels to negotiate—”

“You put me on a stage,” he says. “With a sack tied over my head, and a crossbow pointed at my back.”

I’ve changed my mind. Now I do want to throw him over the railing.

Not really.

But maybe a little.

“You resorted to violence and death when you had no other choice,” I say to him. “But somehow you mean to hold me to a different standard?”

“Yes,” he says.

“Why?” I demand.

He scoffs and turns away.

I grab his sleeve and hold fast. “Tell me why.”

He jerks free, his hands in fists like he longs to throw a punch. “Because your brother is the king!” he snaps—but then he breaks off. His eyes flick to the guards, as if he’s worried they’re going to get physical if he says much more.

“Go ahead,” I say evenly. “Talk.”

He stands rigidly, his hands still clenched tightly, but he says nothing.

“They won’t hurt you if you remain civil,” I say.

He inhales a tight breath and takes a step back, then looks away, out at the sea. For a moment, I think that’s going to be it. The gulf between us is just too vast. He doesn’t trust me, and I don’t trust him, and no matter what we say in this moment, our past actions will overshadow every moment of our future.

It feels bleak and hopeless, and I want to sigh.

But then Lochlan speaks, his voice rough. “The king didn’t just invite me to sit at that table. He invited Consul Sallister, despite everything he did.” He pauses. “The Benefactors promised money and medicine. They knew we were desperate—and we believed they truly wanted to help. But in the end, they were no better than you were, Weston Lark. They had the power to make a difference, but instead, they just watched as the night patrol rounded up more of us for execution.”

I flinch. I can’t help it. My own voice is rough. “Lochlan. That’s not why I was bringing medicine—”

“I know!” he snaps. “I know. You don’t think I know? You don’t think the people know? That night we held the sector, we laid down our weapons for Tessa. But it wasn’t just for Tessa.”

I stare at him.

“So we took a chance,” he says. “We trusted that this was an opportunity for real change.” He swears and looks away, but he must gather his mettle, because he takes a step closer to me. His voice is a low growl. “And then we had to sit across the table from a man who truly was a criminal, a man who faced no repercussions for his actions. None! Where’s the sack over Sallister’s head, Your Highness? Where’s the stage? Where’s the noose? Where’s the crossbow? And you want to know why I’m holding you to a different standard?”

Somewhere on this ship, Tessa is picking a lock while I’m supposed to be causing a distraction. But just now, I’m frozen in place, considering the implications of Lochlan’s words.

Because he’s right. About all of it.

Before I can say anything, motion flickers above me, and then Rian lands on the deck beside us.

Of course. I should’ve looked up.

I wonder how much he heard. His eyes are shadowed and tense, and I’m fairly certain he heard all of it.

I expect him to chastise me, or mock me, or to be openly critical of my brother’s rule, especially now that he has more ammunition.

His eyes meet mine, and a spark of his typical belligerence flares in his gaze, but this time, it’s a bit darker, a bit angrier. “All that, and you still managed to lure Tessa into your quarters.” He raises an eyebrow and gives me a once-over. “I trust you’re well rested, Your Highness?”

No. I’m not.

Which is probably why I stride forward and throw a punch.

It’s reckless and impolitic, and if we were only at odds over the appearance of ships, I never would’ve done it. But his comment is a barbed dig at Tessa, and I’ve reached a limit. The captain sees it coming in time to dodge a full strike, which is unfortunate, because it gives him an opening to drive a fist right into my midsection. It steals my breath, but I grab hold of his jacket, dragging him off-balance, then clip him in the jaw. I’m distantly aware of Lochlan swearing and getting out of the way, but this fight has been brewing for days, and it feels terrifyingly good to hit something. My hands still ache from the rope burns, but I don’t care. I strike and grapple until the ship sways and we begin to fall. I don’t even know which one of us goes down first, but I feel the collision with the wood planks of the deck a moment before the guards start dragging us apart.