Defend the Dawn (Defy the Night #2)(56)

My chest feels hot and tight, and I don’t know what to say. “Of course.”

But there’s really no of course about it.

“I saw the way people jumped when the king spoke at dinner,” Rian says. “I see the way you look to the prince before you say a word.” He hesitates. “I’ve told you before, I don’t mean to say things that will put you at risk.”

“I’m not at risk!” I snap, and then I scowl because I hate that he brought out my temper—when he’s not the one who deserves it. At the same time, I wonder if what he’s saying is true. Do I look like I’m deferring to Corrick and Harristan? Do I look like I’m at risk?

The memory of Corrick holding a dagger to that man’s throat in the candy shop is seared into my brain as clearly as the time I found him in the rubble of the Hold after one of the first rebel attacks. He’d cut two prisoners’ throats, then. I keep thinking of Lochlan’s warnings in the hallway. They feel a little too accurate all of a sudden.

Or the way Karri leaned in to whisper in the candy shop. He’s still terrifying.

Rian studies me for a long moment. “Around the docks, there are dozens of rumors about a girl named Tessa who used to work with a man named Wes to steal Moonflower to help the people. That she was one of the bravest outlaws the people had ever known. That she risked her life to sneak into the palace to bring news of better medicine.”

That wasn’t why I snuck in, but it’s a better story than saying I hoped to assassinate the king after I thought “Wes” had been killed by Prince Corrick.

“Their doses were too high,” I say. “We’re trying to convince people that more could be done with less. No one trusts the Crown yet.”

“But they trust you.” He pauses. “Even though Wes and Tessa disappeared from the Wilds.”

He says that like he knows the truth—but the prince has never directly confirmed his involvement. Everything happened so quickly that night, and certainly no one could prove it. I don’t know what to say.

“They do trust you,” Rian says. “Not just the people either. Prince Corrick brought you along to ensure the Moonflower in Ostriary is the same as what you have in Kandala. The guardsman said you’ve earned the king’s favor and protection, too. I sense that’s not a small thing.”

“No,” I say softly. “It’s not a small thing.”

His eyes search my face. “What I heard about you is vastly different from rumors about the King’s Justice.” He pauses. “Surely you can understand my confusion about the company you keep, and whether you’re at risk—or whether you’re at his side by your own choosing. Did Prince Corrick really hang bodies along the gates of the Royal Sector? To prevent thieving?”

There’s no disguising the judgment in his voice.

I can’t even deny it. I wish I could. I’ll never forget the bodies, the daggers protruding from the eye sockets, the Moonflower blossoms planted on the corpses that hung in the summer sun. Sometimes I smell something rotten, and it triggers memories of the stench, the buzzing of the flies, the guards mocking me for staring in horror. It triggers memories of my panic and grief, to see my friend’s body displayed in such a way.

Corrick, I think. Corrick did that.

The corpse I saw wasn’t Wes. Not really. And the man he hung in his place truly was a criminal. Sometimes I have to remind myself of that.

But he wants to be better. He wants to do better. In the candy shop, he could have executed that man right there, but he didn’t. He had him arrested and taken to the Hold.

Though I don’t know what he did with him after that.

“I’ve upset you,” Rian says.

“No.” But maybe he has. “Corrick was trying to maintain order.” My voice is rough. “The sectors—the consuls—” I break off with a frustrated sound. “You don’t know what it was like. Everyone had a different idea of what was right.”

“Sometimes what’s right isn’t debatable, or a matter of opinion. Clearly you didn’t think what they were doing was right.”

He doesn’t say it like a question. He says it like he knows. He says it like he agrees.

“No,” I say, and my voice is so quiet it’s nearly pulled away with the wind. “I didn’t.”

“It’s hard to take from people who feel like they have nothing to lose,” he says. “I saw what happened during the war in Ostriary.”

That’s right. He survived a war. We merely postponed a revolution.

“We aren’t far from war in Kandala,” I say.

“I know,” he says. “I’m hoping we can prevent that.”

We. He’s talking about the Ostrian court allying with Kandala, trading steel for Moonflower petals.

But for a flicker of time, with his eyes so close, it sounds like he’s talking about us. Rian and me.

The wind steals my breath, and the ship dips and tilts, and my fingers tighten on the ropes. I close my eyes and swallow.

Rian rests his fingers over mine, his grip warm and secure. “Easy,” he says. “You won’t fall.”

“Oi, Captain!” a woman’s voice calls from below, and my eyes snap open.

Another man yells, “Is she stuck? Or do you reckon he tied her up there?”