Defend the Dawn (Defy the Night #2)(13)

“Steel City,” I say.

He nods. “The inter-island bridges of Ostriary are constructed of Kandalan steel. Faulty steel, in many areas. They are beginning to fail.”

“So they need more,” I say.

“Yes,” says Lieutenant Tagas. “Quite a bit.”

Rian gives her a look, and she shrugs. “We do.”

“What is your goal here?” I say to him. “Have you become an agent for Ostriary? Is that the reason for all your secrecy?”

“I’d be a fool to say so, wouldn’t you think?” he says. “But I have spent six years there, and I can understand their caution. Their country is not without its problems.” His eyes don’t leave mine. “Neither is yours.”

No, I definitely don’t like him.

“Fine,” says Harristan. “Ostriary needs steel, yet they have nothing to offer. They haven’t sent an emissary of their own, just the son of a spy who doesn’t bear a clear allegiance to his home country. Regardless of the letter you bear, I have no reason to believe a word you’ve said. Tell me why I shouldn’t commit you to the Hold and send these Ostrian sailors back where they came from.”

“Oh,” says Rian. “I didn’t say Ostriary has nothing to offer.” He stands.

All four of Harristan’s guards immediately step away from the wall. Two of them have hands on their weapons.

Rian freezes. He lifts his hands.

“I’m unarmed,” he says to the guards. His voice is quiet. “I have a key to the chest. Allow me to show you.”

The tension in the room has doubled.

“Set the key on the table,” Harristan says.

Rian frowns, but he pulls a key from his pocket and tosses it onto the table. The key rattles against the wood.

“Rocco,” says Harristan. “Open it.”

The guard takes the key and draws the chest away, toward the wall. He unlocks the padlock gingerly, as if expecting a trap, but the lock gives way with a click, and he lifts the lid.

Whatever he sees makes him gasp—and Rocco is one of the most stoic guards Harristan has. He’s not a man to gasp.

“What?” says Harristan. “What is it?”

Rocco turns the chest around. It’s packed full of white petals. Easily enough to supply the entire palace for weeks. Maybe even the entire Royal Sector.

“Moonflower,” he says, and his voice is hushed.

“Yes,” says Rian. “I’ve heard you might need some?”





CHAPTER FIVE

Tessa

I’m desperately curious about the ship that arrived in Artis, but anyone I can ask about it is busy dealing with it. One of the hardest things about knowing Corrick as the prince—instead of Weston Lark, the outlaw—is that he’s surrounded by obligations and duties and constraints, just by virtue of his position. There’s no secret workshop in the dark hours of the morning anymore. There’s the palace, which is full of guards and servants and courtiers, all listening for a bit of gossip about the King’s Justice.

So I have to wait. At least I don’t have any more obligations, so I can get out of this dress.

To my surprise, a message is waiting for me when I return to my quarters. It’s been delivered by one of the stewards at the front gates. No seal, just a familiar scrawl.

Tessa,

I wish that had gone better. I don’t know if you’re allowed to leave the palace, but I was hoping maybe we could meet up as friends again. I’ll head for Woolfrey’s Confectioners on the chance you have time to come join me. It’s been a long time since we could share a chocolate cream. I miss you.

xo,

K

Oh, Karri. I have to press a hand to my chest.

She’s right. I wish that had gone better, too.

Woolfrey’s Confectioners is a candy shop in Artis near Mistress Solomon’s, where Karri and I worked together grinding herbs to create potions and remedies. We used to giggle over a chocolate cream at least once a month, whispering about the frivolous patrons who’d visit Mistress Solomon’s shop.

The memories tug at my heart.

Maybe this is a sign. Maybe Karri and I can figure out a way to convince Prince Corrick and Lochlan to find some common ground.

I need to call for a servant to help unlace me from this gown. But if Karri left this message at the front gate, it would have already taken a bit of time to get to me. I don’t want her to think I have no intention of showing.

I look down at the silk dress I’m wearing. I can suffer in a corset for a few more hours.

I smooth my skirts, then head for the palace steps, where I ask one of the footmen to call me a carriage.

He gives a slight bow. “Yes, of course, Miss Tessa.”

Heat rushes to my cheeks. Weeks ago, I’d never even been inside a carriage, and now I can summon one at my whim. “Thank you,” I say, but he’s already gone, off to attend to the needs of the next courtier.

Since I’m alone, I don’t expect anything grand, but I’m still surprised to be escorted to a two-seater open-air buggy with dark purple panels and gold trim. The horse is a large dapple gray in patent leather harness, every buckle and strap shining in the sunlight. The driver tips his hat to me and lowers a wooden step for my convenience.

“To the town square in Artis, miss?”