Defend the Dawn (Defy the Night #2)(25)

I cast a glance at the wall, where the guard captain has only stationed four guards. There will be more once Harristan arrives, but not too many to overwhelm the room, since this is supposed to be a casual dinner.

I stop these thoughts in their tracks.

Maybe Tessa and Quint are right. Maybe I am too cynical.

Across the room, Allisander is looking at the sailors with a curled lip. I don’t know if he’s more annoyed that they might have access to Moonflower—and might cut into his profits—or if he’s such a snob that he finds them beneath him. Knowing Allisander, it’s probably both.

But I look back at Rian, because Roydan gave me an idea.

“Captain,” I say. “One of our consuls has found some aged shipping logs from a southern sector that may confirm part of your story.”

His eyebrows raise. “That’s good news.”

“I hope so.” I pause. “You said there were five islands on the western side of what we know to be Ostriary.”

He regards me carefully, as if he suspects a trap. “There are islands. But I said there were six of them.”

“Name them.”

He looks startled by the command, but he holds out his left hand, palm down, then rotates his wrist so his fingers are pointing to the left. He taps the back of his hand. “If you imagine this to be the main island—Fairde—each finger is roughly where the others sit.” He ticks off each one, starting with his thumb. “Iris, Kaisa, Roshan, Estar, and Silvesse.”

Beside me, Tessa lets out a breath, and I know she recognizes the names from the list as clearly as I do. But I study Rian carefully. There’s no hint of guile in his expression.

I don’t know what this means—but it is meaningful.

His eyes narrow slightly. “Did I pass your test, Your Highness?”

A herald bangs his halberd near the main door. “His Royal Majesty, King Harristan.”

Everyone turns to face the door, to greet my brother.

But I lean close to Rian. “Not yet.”





CHAPTER EIGHT

Tessa

Somehow, I do end up seated across from Captain Blakemore, but it doesn’t allow for much conversation. Harristan has been grilling the sea captain and his lieutenant on Ostriary and their infrastructure. It’s probably for the best anyway. I’ve been smarting a bit since Corrick told me that Laurel’s interest in my methods might be a farce to help put her father into power. It makes me glad I’m not seated next to her.

At the opposite end of the table, Quint has Allisander and Laurel engrossed in conversation about the demand for Kandalan silk coming out of Trader’s Landing, and it’s so detailed yet innocuous that I highly suspect that he’s been charged with keeping the consul occupied for as long as possible. Sablo sits beside Captain Blakemore, and he’s easily as imposing as Rocco, my favorite member of the king’s personal guard. Sablo is listening to every word that’s said, watching Corrick and Harristan as if he doesn’t trust them. To his left, Marchon the quartermaster looks bored by Allisander’s blustering with Quint, but he’s just a bit too far for me to engage in casual conversation.

So I sip politely at my soup spoon and wonder how something that should be so simple—providing more medicine to sick people—could get so wound up in political negotiation and palace intrigue.

I want to pull on my homespun skirts and climb over the wall so badly that my feet almost twitch with the need to run.

“You look a bit sad, Miss Cade.”

I glance up to find Captain Blakemore studying me, and there’s a warmth in his gray eyes that’s tough to look away from. I expected someone older and stuffy, not a younger man with sun-kissed skin, black hair that gleams, and a set of shoulders that whisper of strength.

“Not sad,” I say. “I just don’t have much to offer when it comes to the demand for silk”—my eyes flick to the end of the table—“or the supply of steel.”

“I don’t have much interest in silk either,” he says with a small smile. “But when it comes to steel, I know Ostriary needs it. Badly. After the war, many cargo ships were damaged. The country is trying to rebuild, but without ships and bridges, transporting goods has become a massive challenge.”

“And you want to help?”

“I do.”

Corrick would hear that with a skeptical ear, just like his doubt over Laurel’s enthusiasm for my work. That means I probably should, too. But unlike Laurel, whose father is just one more man volleying for power in Kandala, Captain Blakemore has nothing to gain here. He’s not making demands, and he’s not backing anyone into a corner with empty promises and imperious threats.

I know there are political levers at work. He’s asking for steel on behalf of Ostriary, and offering Moonflower petals in return. But somehow he’s made it simpler than that. He’s asking for help—and he’s offering it in return.

“I want to help, too,” I say.

“I know. As I said, I heard stories around the docks. Anyone who could break into the palace with a plan to heal people instead of harming them must be very brave indeed. Especially considering the harsh penalties for breaking the law here in Kandala.”

“I don’t know about brave,” I say, but I can’t stop the warmth that floods my cheeks. “Just determined.”