Defend the Dawn (Defy the Night #2)(21)

Corrick smiles. “Social.”

“Will Harristan be bringing someone as well?”

“No.” He seems startled. “Haven’t you noticed? My brother never invites a companion.”

I hesitate. I haven’t been at court very long, but I’ve spent enough time in the palace that I’ve become accustomed to the usual players. Some of the consuls are married, like Roydan Pelham, an older man who’s rather devoted to his wife, while others seem to rotate through courtiers as regularly as I wash my face.

Until this moment, I hadn’t considered that Harristan never has someone at his side. I haven’t even seen him engage in so much as a casual flirtation.

Though honestly, the thought of Harristan doing anything in a casual manner is almost laughable.

When the sector was under attack from the rebels, Harristan and I slipped through the woods of the Wilds together. He’d once told me that it was easy to love your king when everyone is well fed and healthy, but not so much when everyone is sick and hungry. Harristan is always stoic and reserved, but I remember seeing his composure crack, just a little, when I told him that he could be loved.

Corrick watches me work through this in my head. “He doesn’t trust anyone, Tessa. Too many people have tried to take advantage of us.” He pauses, and his voice drops, even though we’re alone. “And it would be difficult to keep his lingering illness a secret. I don’t think he’d allow anyone to get close enough.”

That makes me sad. I can’t chase Lochlan’s comments out of my head, so I find myself asking, “What about you? Any frequent companions for the King’s Justice?”

I’m trying to keep my tone light, but he holds my gaze, and I know he hears the true question there. “Ah, Tessa.” There’s something simultaneously wicked and warm in his eyes. “No one dared, until you.”





CHAPTER SEVEN

Corrick

Dinner in the palace is often a grand affair, served in the vast dining hall behind the salon, with dozens of courtiers and attendants and diplomats creating a cacophony of sound that often becomes exhausting before anyone eats their fill. I don’t mind it much, but Harristan hates being so widely accessible, so I’m not surprised when I hear that we’re dining in the Pearl Room.

It’s an interesting choice, because the room is very fine, but not too fine. The walls are a faint gray, with a dark blue artful swirl that stretches from corner to corner and seems to faintly glisten. As you get closer, you can see a tiny line of real pearls embedded in the design. The table is a block of white marble, topped with a floral arrangement of vibrant blue lilies that exactly match the floral pattern on the seat cushions. Servants stand ready to pour glasses of wine and stronger things. A side table full of delicacies sits beneath the window, which overlooks the rear gardens of the palace. Stonehammer’s Arch is visible, an arc of brightly flaming torches that hang suspended over a pond.

To my surprise, Tessa and I are the first to arrive. Harristan hasn’t yet appeared. Neither has Captain Blakemore, for that matter.

Tessa stands at my side, resplendent in deep green velvet that clings to every curve, a gown that allows a generous expanse of neckline. Her hair has been curled and fixed to hang down her back, with shining green and silver hairpins in place to tie a bit back from her face. She looks warm and elegant, and every inch of bare skin reminds me of her vulnerability.

When I saw Lochlan looming over her, I really did want to have a guard shoot him with a crossbow.

I don’t know who I’m fooling. I wanted to do it myself.

After seeing her fear in the carriage, I’m glad I didn’t. I wish I could go back and erase the worry from her gaze.

Are you frightened of me?

She said nothing. But that said everything.

I hate this forced distance between us. I should make an official declaration of courtship. Our time together is always too public, too politically charged. Any private moments are too brief, limited to shadowed walks behind the palace, or quiet games of chess before breakfast. But I worry that anything more would weaken our efforts. Everything is already so precarious.

I think of that man in the candy shop. If Tessa and I were openly involved, she’d be more of a target.

Then again, if we were openly involved, I’d drag her into my chambers and we wouldn’t leave for a week.

I need to stop thinking like this.

“Wine?” I say to her.

She shakes her head and presses a hand to her abdomen. “If I start drinking wine, I’ll never remember the correct fork.”

I smile and lean in to speak low, then risk brushing a finger along her chin. “In that dress, no one will be looking at your cutlery.”

She flushes, but she gives me a rueful look. “Fine. Maybe one glass.” I gesture for a servant, and Tessa adds, “Mind your mettle, Corrick.”

My smile widens. “Mind yours.”

She takes the glass she’s offered, but the slight smile drops from her face. “Are the consuls attending this dinner?”

I turn to see two consuls approaching: Roydan Pelham, of the Sorrowlands, and Arella Cherry, of Sunkeep. They haven’t been in the palace very much since the rebels attacked, and I rather doubt they’ve been invited to dinner. Months ago, I had speculated about them being involved with the rebellion. They’ve been cleared of any involvement, but that doesn’t make their prior behavior any less suspect. Their sectors both border Trader’s Landing, which lacks a consul, so they’ve shared management of the area, but I’ve told Harristan that needs to change. They’ve had too many secret meetings, too many opportunities for plotting.