Defend the Dawn (Defy the Night #2)(26)

“They’re pretty much the same, don’t you think?” He takes a spoonful of his own soup, and it robs the sentiment of too much weight. “I was young when my father was sent to Ostriary, but from what I recall, the punishments issued by the Crown were never quite as severe as they are now.”

“Kandala was a different place six years ago,” Corrick says, and I’m startled to realize we’ve drawn his attention.

“In a lot of ways, it seems.” The captain takes another spoonful. His eyes return to mine. “Do you think the actions of the King’s Justice have been an effective means of keeping the peace?”

Beside me, Corrick goes still. He knows how I felt about the King’s Justice, well before I ever knew that the benevolent outlaw Weston Lark was the same prince who was executing thieves for smuggling and treason.

I hate the prince, I often said to him as Wes—followed by I hate you, once I knew he was Corrick.

The room has gone very quiet, as if the question, spoken gently, drew everyone’s attention just by virtue of the weight behind it. Even Allisander is watching me, waiting to hear what I’ll say.

My mouth is frozen, my thoughts spinning.

“I’d like to hear your thoughts,” says Harristan, and his voice isn’t harsh. One of my favorite things about Harristan is that when he asks me for my thoughts, he really wants them. But he’s still the king, and he never has to be harsh to make my pulse jump. I set down my spoon and smooth my hands over my skirts.

“I think the King’s Justice was doing the very best he could,” I say, “during a very challenging time.”

Under the table, Corrick’s hand finds mine, steady and warm. He gives it a squeeze.

Captain Blakemore offers a wan smile and takes another spoonful of soup. “I didn’t intend for my question to make you uncomfortable.” He pauses. “Or to put you at risk. Forgive me, Miss Cade.”

I’m not at risk, but maybe it would be impolitic to say so. This conversation is like walking a tightrope.

“You haven’t been here, Captain,” Corrick says. “You haven’t seen the desperation for medicine, or what people were willing to do to get it.”

“I see that the people within this sector’s walls seem rather healthy, while those outside are not.” Captain Blakemore doesn’t look away. His tone is just as unruffled as when he was speaking to me. “I see that I have brought you medicine, something you claim to dearly need, and you treat me with suspicion and hostility.”

Corrick draws himself up. “You’ve returned to Kandala for less than a day and you’re being openly critical of your king? You certainly don’t do much to demonstrate loyalty to your home country.”

“Do you want loyalty or do you want obeisance, Your Highness?”

The prince looks right back at him. “For a man who seems to want to protect his crew,” Corrick says, “you couldn’t go wrong with either.”

The captain goes very still. “Don’t threaten my crew.”

The words are spoken quietly, slowly, with emphasis on each syllable. They crack through the room like a bolt of lightning.

Corrick’s jaw is tight, and I know that there’s a part of him that wants to have this man dragged to the Hold. It’s the same part that made me think he would have cut that man’s throat in the candy shop.

My own chest is in a vise grip, and I want to say something to undo this. It’s like the moment I sat in the confectioner’s with Karri: there are too many sides at work, too many people to keep happy.

But it’s Laurel who speaks up.

“Your arrival comes at an interesting time, Captain Blakemore. Our sector is being forced to provide medicine to the people of Kandala, and here you appear, ready to negotiate the cost for another country.”

The captain hasn’t looked away from Corrick. “You have to force your sectors to provide medicine? When people are dying?”

The censure in his voice is impossible to ignore.

“There is no proof that you have more Moonflower,” says Allisander. “You want our steel, and a great deal of it. What proof do we have that you will arrive with the medicine you’re offering?”

“It’s a worthwhile question,” says the king.

Captain Blakemore spreads his hands. “I have no proof other than what I’ve already given. But I do have a ship. You’re welcome to return to Ostriary with me to complete the negotiations with their king yourself.”

“You can’t possibly think the king of Kandala would board a ship based on nothing more than your promises,” says Corrick.

“Then come yourself.” The captain casts a darkly amused look at Corrick. “If you’re interested, I highly suggest you leave my crew unharmed. You know your own sailors can’t make it.”

“Who says your crew needs their captain?” says Corrick.

“Corrick,” I whisper.

“I won’t sail for anyone else,” says Marchon, and it’s probably the first thing he’s said since sitting at this table.

“Nor will I,” says Lieutenant Tagas.

Sablo slaps the table and then his chest. He nods his agreement.

Captain Blakemore smiles, and his eyes brighten with something akin to true delight. “Now that,” he says, “is loyalty.”