Defend the Dawn (Defy the Night #2)(66)

“Rian doesn’t have a lot of tolerance for rulers who mistreat their people,” she says.

“I don’t either,” I say, plucking at another rope fiber. “Prince Corrick isn’t the sum of all the stories told about him.”

“Surely not,” she says easily, which startles me. “He got on the ship, and that took most of us by surprise.”

Sablo makes a sound that sounds like hmph, then rubs the fingers of his free hand together, then makes a flicking motion.

Gwyn smiles. “He says he should have put money on that.”

I look up from the wound. “You would have bet on Prince Corrick?”

He nods vigorously, and I raise my eyebrows.

“Sablo likes the underdog,” Gwyn adds.

“Aha,” I say, smiling. “Well, don’t let him hear you call him the underdog.”

Sablo blows a breath through his teeth and draws a finger across his neck like he’s slitting someone’s throat.

I think he’s teasing, but I frown. I remember a night when Corrick had to do exactly that, because Consul Sallister was threatening to withhold medicine from the whole country.

But of course I can’t say that. I don’t know how to defend Corrick without revealing everything I know.

I don’t know if he deserves it anyway.

I try to turn the conversation in another direction. They’re casual with the captain’s name, so I am, too. “Rian said that the citadel in Ostriary was destroyed in the war,” I say. “Where does the king live now?”

“Galen Redstone still lives on Fairde,” Gwyn says. “Tarramor was blown to bits, but the king was able to hold the palace. The walls are gone, so you can see the palace from the sea. One by one, he claimed the other islands. There are still pockets of rebellion, mostly led by men who couldn’t take the throne, but most of those have been snuffed out. The king built his campaign on promises to rebuild, to restore Ostriary to what it once was. He might not have had the strongest claim to the throne, but he had the most compelling promises. There’s been too much damage, too much bloodshed. The people are tired.”

Sablo grunts and hits his chest with his uninjured arm, and Gwyn smiles, a little sadly. “Yes,” she says. “We are tired.”

I look at Sablo. “Were you injured in the war? Is that why you can’t speak?”

Storm clouds shift through his eyes, but he nods. He looks to Gwyn and gestures from her to me.

She draws a slow breath, and they exchange a glance. I can see her weighing what to say. “At dinner, Rian mentioned Oren Crane, one of the old king’s half-brothers. He’s one of the few who keeps rebellion brewing. Oren’s a skilled sailor, and he has a fleet of ships that still linger in the waters of Ostriary. Hidden allies on all the islands. He was close to the old court, too, which helped his claim. He’s clever—but vicious. Not the kind of man you want to cross.”

I look at Sablo. “Did you cross him?”

Those clouds haven’t left his eyes. He scowls.

“Sablo was a supply runner,” Gwyn says. “He’d pilot the ships from island to island. He’s well known at each port, so sometimes he’s paid to carry … information.”

I glance between the two of them. “So you were a spy.”

He taps a finger to his forehead, and Gwyn says, “Not really a spy. More … an untraceable way to send a message. No need to write anything down. Sablo’s mind is as sharp as cut glass.”

He smiles darkly and nods.

“But then he got a message about Oren,” Gwyn continues. “About where he was planning to hide his ships. Sablo knew he could sell this information to Galen Redstone’s people, and indeed they came knocking—”

Sablo makes a cutting motion with his hand, sharp and decisive through the air.

“I know, I know,” she continues. “You’re no snitch.” Her eyes shift back to me. “He refused to sell his knowledge to Redstone—or anyone, for that matter. But Oren caught wind that someone was working against him. He grew suspicious, and he wouldn’t take a chance.”

My hands have gone still on my tweezers. “He thought you betrayed him.”

“He had him beaten near to death,” she says. “Then they cut his tongue off.”

Those storm clouds in Sablo’s eyes have turned into a tornado.

“It was a message,” Gwyn says. “Like I said, Oren’s a vicious man.”

“I’m sorry,” I say softly.

Sablo shakes his head.

“Rian found him,” Gwyn says. “Facedown in the sand. The captain could have left him, but he didn’t. There was nothing in it for him, but you heard him at dinner. Rian’s not the type to leave someone hurting.” She shrugs. “So here we are.”

So here they are.

“Were you there?” I ask.

She shakes her head, then says, “No. Anya and I joined up later.” She shrugs, then glances away. “We’ve all got a bit of a story. You’ll likely hear ’em all before we’re done.”

“I hope so,” I say, and I mean it.

“What about you?” she says.

I glance up. “What about me?”

“What’s your story? There must be more than just the prince’s apothecary.”