Defend the Dawn (Defy the Night #2)(40)

“Don’t make a fuss,” he says quietly.

My heart is pounding so hard that I can’t speak for a moment. I’ve stopped short in the doorway to the carriage, and a porter behind me says, “Your Highness?”

I force air into my lungs. “Yes. We should be on our way.” I give my brother a look as I climb into the carriage, then tug the door closed behind me. “You’re lucky I didn’t pull a weapon,” I murmur.

Outside, rain begins to patter on the roof of the carriage, and the driver clucks to the horses. As we begin rattling over cobblestones, I wait for Harristan to talk, but he says nothing, so I say nothing. The carriage bounces along forever, until I finally say, “What are you doing?”

“I wanted to see you off.”

“You just did that.”

And he did. It wasn’t very grand, as we’re leaving earlier than expected, but he said his goodbyes in the salon in front of the few courtiers in attendance. He said something appropriately regal and clasped my hand, but I was barely listening because my thoughts were screaming at me about the fact that any of this was happening.

“No, Cory,” he says, and his voice is low and quiet. “I didn’t.”

The sentimentality of that strikes me. I can’t believe he did this. I can’t believe he’s here.

In truth, I can’t even remember the last time we shared a carriage together. Surely before our parents died. Once he was crowned king, the security risk was always too great to chance putting us both in the same vehicle. I should probably call for a stop right this instant.

I don’t.

“None of your guards are with me,” I say, and my voice is rough. “How did you get in here?”

“I told Quint he needed to use his skills of secrecy for my purposes this time.”

My eyebrows go up. Quint is just full of surprises this week.

Then again, maybe it’s not a surprise. They aren’t friends, not even close, but Quint would never deny the king anything.

“How will you get back?” I say. “Or are you planning to stow away altogether? I’m sure I have a trunk strapped to the carriage.”

“I thought about it.”

He’s teasing, but there’s a note of truth in there.

I hate that there’s a tiny part of my brain that wishes this were a possibility.

Maybe he does, too, because a sad light glimmers in his eyes when he says, “I’ll offer the driver a few coins for a return trip to the palace.”

I smile. “You’ll give him a heart attack.”

“I suppose I could walk.”

I imagine him strolling up to the palace gates like an ordinary citizen. He would never. Could never. The gossip mill wouldn’t stop churning for weeks.

But I can play this game. “It’s a cloudy night,” I say. “Watch out for cutpurses.”

Harristan grins, his smile bright in the shadows. It reminds me of all the times we went tearing through the sectors as boys, when no one knew who we were. He’s so severe as the stoic king that I sometimes forget he knows how to smile like that.

The rain picks up, rattling hard on the roof. It’s not a long carriage ride to the docks. But my brother holds my eyes, and his smile fades. “Are you afraid?”

He’s the only person who would ask me that so directly—and also the only person who’d get a wholly honest answer. “A little.” I pause. “Are you?”

“A little.” He hesitates, then coughs faintly.

“We don’t need to leave today.” I pause. “We could wait.”

“Do you want to wait?” he says.

It’s a genuine question. I could say yes, and he’d call this whole thing to a stop.

But we’ve discussed this with our advisers and some of the top sailors from Artis, most of whom agreed that leaving ahead of the storm would provide strong winds for a quick journey—and less risk.

Delaying now could look fearful and indecisive. That doesn’t seem like a good way to begin trade relations with the new Ostrian king.

“No,” I say. The ground under the carriage has changed as we draw close to the docks. Between the heavy clouds and the weather, it’s hard to make out much detail through the tiny window of the carriage, but I can make out the letters curving along the hull. The Dawn Chaser.

Lord. Even the name of his ship seems over the top.

My eyes scan the docks. I don’t see Tessa, but I know she left ahead of us. I have no idea whether Lochlan is on board yet. There’s a part of me that thinks Harristan should have just locked him in the Hold and told everyone he was on the ship. Maybe we still could. I bite at the edge of my thumbnail.

“Cory.”

I look at my brother. “What.”

“Do you want to wait?” He says each word with quiet emphasis.

His eyes are searching mine, and I search his right back. I keep thinking of what Quint said, how this is the first time Harristan and I will be doing any of this alone. The enormity of that tightens my chest. We’ve never been alone. Not when we were boys, sneaking into the Wilds with a few pieces of silver in our pockets, not when our parents were killed, not when rebels stormed the palace and we ran for our lives.

“Harristan,” I say. “Do you want me to wait?”

He says nothing, and the carriage draws to a stop. Suddenly, there’s no rattle of hooves on cobblestones, and the air between us is silent.