Defend the Dawn (Defy the Night #2)(63)

“First time at sea, Your Highness?”

I can’t tell if the question is meant to be condescending, but he sounds forthright, so I am, too.

“No,” I say. “Not really. But it’s been ages.” I step past him, toward the railing, because the lure is just too great. Beneath us, the water rushes past alarmingly fast, waves slapping at the hull. It’s a bit dizzying, but I like it.

“We’re making good time,” Rian says. “It was a boon to get ahead of the storm. Good winds should have us in the ocean south of Sunkeep by tomorrow night. The following day at the latest.”

That is good time, and I wonder if it’s too good.

Once we pass Port Karenin, I’ll be truly on my own.

I have to tamp down the lick of fear that loops around my spine, and I straighten, moving away from the railing. The captain extends a hand, and we walk, heading toward the bow of the ship.

“I heard Lochlan started a fight already,” I say.

“Not a fight,” he says. “Just a bit of wounded pride between men.” He pauses, and one of those tiny barbs finds his voice. “You understand, I’m sure.”

“You really don’t like me, do you?”

He smiles, but it’s more cunning than it is friendly. “Do I give that impression? I believe the king was assured we’d be old friends by the time you return.”

“Don’t be contemptuous, Captain. It doesn’t suit you.”

His smile widens. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Another barb, but I don’t take the bait. A gust of cold wind sweeps across the deck, tugging at my jacket, and I tuck my hands in my pockets. “You’re judging me by rumor and opinion,” I say.

“Perhaps I am,” he says equably.

We’ve reached the bow of his ship, and from here, I see nothing but open water and distant ships, the wind in my face and the sky stretching on forever.

“Was death truly the penalty for stealing Moonflower?” he says.

“Yes,” I say. “It was well known throughout Kandala.”

“And as King’s Justice, you were in charge of determining the method of punishment?”

“I was.”

“These punishments,” he says. “They were public?”

“Sometimes,” I say. I hear him trying to trap me, so I turn and look at him. “You were not here in the beginning, when people were quite literally fighting to the death over access to medicine. My brother had an entire country to consider. He ordered me to take action, and so I did.”

“I see.”

I wait for him to say something else, but he doesn’t. We head along the opposite railing, toward where the men are gutting fish. They keep their eyes on their task, but they’ve fallen silent. I’m sure the lure of gossip, even on board a ship, is too great to ignore.

Luckily the wind will carry my words away, especially if I keep my voice low. “That’s it?” I say. “I see?”

“Yes,” he says. “Now I can claim to be judging you by fact.”

Maybe I liked it better when he was being contemptuous. “I’ve spent four years being hated by everyone,” I say. “Please don’t think I’ll be very affected by your opinion of me.”

“Of course not.” He glances my way. “I’m just here to sail the ship, Your Highness.”

He’s not quite mocking me, but it’s close. “I do admit to being surprised by your boldness. You’re the one who came begging for steel.”

“Only because you couldn’t manage to reach Ostriary to beg for Moonflower.”

I bristle. Every time I have a conversation with this man, I can’t find my footing. I’m both furious at his impertinence and intrigued by his mettle. “Have I wronged you in some way I’m unaware of, Captain?”

“Not me directly, no. But I was sent to Kandala to see if the new Ostrian king would be able to negotiate for steel so the kingdom can be rebuilt. I expected to find King Lucas, a ruler who was known for fair dealings throughout Kandala. Instead, I’m bringing back a man who put citizens to death after they’d been left desperate, with no means for survival.”

“You weren’t here,” I say roughly. “You don’t know the circumstances. My father might have been known for fair dealings, but he never had to deal with widespread illness. His consuls had an equitable balance of trade between sectors. But once the Moonflower was determined to cure the fever sickness, it caused a massive shift in which sectors had money and power—and which ones did not. Suddenly his consuls—our consuls, Captain—held leverage over the throne, while ordinary citizens were quite literally killing each other over medicine. We had terrible choices to make, and we made them.”

“So the choice was to anger your consuls or execute your people?”

“The choice was to restore order by whatever means possible. People were already dying, Captain. The penalties had to be harsh or they wouldn’t have made a difference.”

He’s quiet for a moment, but hostility crackles in the air between us.

“If I locked you in your quarters without food,” Rian finally says, “and if I said you’d be put to death if you tried to escape, how long do you think it would take before you’d risk it anyway?”