Defend the Dawn (Defy the Night #2)(37)
“In reviewing records and shipping logs, we’ve been able to corroborate some of Captain Blakemore’s story,” he says. “But this is not a journey without risk, Tessa. Captain Blakemore appears to be very forthright in his desire to help both Ostriary and Kandala, but this could still be a means to separate me from my brother, to an end that no one has foreseen.”
Sending Prince Corrick is such a risk, but I know why the king wouldn’t send someone else.
Harristan doesn’t trust anyone else.
The king is always stoic, even in the moments when he should be vulnerable. I remember Corrick sitting in the carriage telling me why Harristan never has a companion by his side, and it’s a bit heartbreaking. If anyone needs a little gentle care, the king should probably be at the top of the list. I think about the royal brothers’ lot in life often, and I wonder if they would have ruled entirely differently if, after their parents were killed, the consuls had found the patience to show them a moment of grace, instead of bickering over the throne and who could volley for most power.
“I have one more request for you,” the king says. “And this is a request I would like to keep between us.” He pauses. “Just us. Not even my brother.”
I hesitate. “Am I allowed to ask what it is before I agree to that?”
“I would like for you to prepare a month’s worth of elixir,” he says. “For me alone.”
I frown. “You distrust your physicians?” I say quietly.
“I’m worried the disloyalty in the palace runs deeper than any of us realize. There are very few people I trust, Tessa. Three of you are climbing aboard a ship tonight.”
Now I understand why Harristan wants to keep this a secret. If Corrick knew his brother was this worried, he wouldn’t go.
I frown. “I can’t make medicine that would last for a month. It wouldn’t be effective.” Storm clouds fill his eyes, so I rush on, “You once said you spent a lot of time with the palace physicians. If I put together the pieces, maybe you could mix everything together yourself each day?”
He’s studying me, but for a bare instant, a flicker of fear and uncertainty crosses his features.
“It wouldn’t be difficult,” I say. “I can create vials with most of the mixture, but you’d have to grind the Moonflower yourself, then add the powder. I can separate petals so you wouldn’t have to weigh them. Do you have somewhere to hide everything?”
“Yes. I’ll send Quint to fetch whatever you can prepare.”
Quint. I’m sure Corrick will miss his friend, but I’m glad the Palace Master will be here to look out for Harristan. I nod briskly. “I’ll do it right now. I’ll label everything.”
He nods and takes a step back, and that flicker of fear and uncertainty crosses his features again. I almost reach out to squeeze his hand.
But then it all smooths out, and he’s the forbidding king once again.
“Farewell, Tessa,” he says.
I curtsy again. “Farewell,” I say, and the word carries so much more weight than it should. “Your Majesty.”
Without another word, he opens the door, and the king disappears into the hallway.
I’ve lived in Artis all my life, so I’m familiar with the docks on both sides of the Queen’s River. My parents used to travel by ferry across the river once a week to tend to workers at both harbors. I remember gaping up at some of the larger ships that would transport wealthy citizens up and down the river, or the massive cargo vessels that were always stacked high with crates of goods from all over Kandala. Flags and sails are always snapping in the wind, workers calling out instructions from every direction. Dozens of shops line the streets around the harbors, so it’s a bustling, busy area, especially in the summertime.
The fever sickness always runs rampant along the river, and I’ve never been able to determine whether it’s from the close quarters shared by the workers, or if it has more to do with the constant contact with other illnesses that might make boatmen more susceptible to the fever. My father used to say that everyone at the harbor would end up with a fever and a cough eventually.
It’s late when my carriage draws up to the docks, but more people are about than I expect. Oil lamps line the crowded walkways, and someone has installed a few electric spotlights to point at the pier where the wealthiest vessels have been moored.
When I step down from my carriage, I spot the ship at once, because there’s no mistaking a vessel that has a full contingent of royal guards surrounding the gangway, awaiting the arrival of the King’s Justice. Harristan is bidding his brother farewell at the palace in some kind of brief public ceremony, but I was sent ahead to ensure the medicinal supplies are as they should be. I don’t mind, because it gives me a chance to look up at the ship without all the guards and fanfare that Prince Corrick will bring with him. Clouds hang heavy in the sky, so the sails are wide and gray in the filtered moonlight, fluttering in the wind. The name Dawn Chaser has been painted in swirling white script along the hull. It’s not as big as many of the other ships, but it’s much larger than I expected after Captain Blakemore refused to take any more than six people.
Then again, the captain is clearly worried, too. That’s why he didn’t want any sailors or navigators on board. This journey is requiring trust on both sides.