Defend the Dawn (Defy the Night #2)(9)

But if he’s going to be direct, I will be too.

“Your father was the one sent to Ostriary,” I say. “Ordered by my father, King Lucas.”

“That’s right.”

“And where is your father now?”

“Dead.” He says this simply, without emotion. “The same as yours.”

Quint was approaching the table, but he goes still when he hears this. I’m sure he’s wondering how I’m going to take it.

Lieutenant Tagas sighs tightly. “Rian,” she says under her breath.

“He is,” Captain Blakemore says. His eyes don’t leave mine, and he lifts a shoulder in a casual shrug. “They are.”

I can’t decide if I like this man or if I want to push him off the roof of the palace alongside Consul Sallister.

“So you took up his duties?” I say.

“Of course. A son has an obligation to carry on his father’s legacy, don’t you think?”

He says this just as steadily as everything else he’s said, but there’s a tiny barb hidden in there, just like the first one I threw at him. He waits to make sure it lands, then continues as if he didn’t expect an answer.

“I knew the initial journey took quite a bit of expense,” he says. “I may have been young, but I was not ignorant to the importance of my father’s mission.”

“It seems I am a bit ignorant to the importance of your father’s mission,” I say. “I am unfamiliar with your family name, Captain Blakemore. My brother has no recollection of it.”

“Please,” he says. “Call me Rian, Your Highness.”

That’s a clear opening for me to tell him to call me Corrick, but I’m just petty enough to ignore it. “I’ll be calling you a prisoner if you don’t explain yourself a little better than you’re doing.”

To my side, I hear Quint sigh very much the way Lieutenant Tagas just did. He won’t say a word, but I can imagine his voice. Honestly, Corrick.

Rian smiles. “My intention was to be polite, not deceptive. I recognize that the loss of your father and mine puts us at a bit of an impasse. I understand that guards have already departed to search my ship. There, you will find my father’s log from the initial sailing to Ostriary—as well as my own for the trip here. My crew, admittedly, is entirely comprised of Ostrian citizens, so you will find few answers there, though you are welcome to question them all if you wish.”

“I will,” I say.

“Good.” He nods, then hesitates. “They are good women and men. They’ll speak honestly. They shouldn’t be harmed if you don’t like what they have to say.”

My eyebrows go up. “Why would they be harmed?”

“I’ve caught wind of your reputation,” he says evenly. “Your Highness.” The words are spoken quietly, but he might as well have lit a cannon.

Quint clears his throat. “I do believe everyone could do with a cup of—”

I lift a hand and he stops short, but I don’t look away from Rian. “You’ve been here all of five minutes. You’ve caught wind of my reputation?”

“That should tell you just how very impressive it is.”

He says impressive like he means something else. But he’s given me a vulnerability, albeit a small one: he cares about his crew. They care about him, based on the way Lieutenant Tagas said his name.

“I still feel as though you’re talking in circles,” I say. “If you don’t want your people harmed, give me plain truths, Rian. If your father was an emissary, if your father was a member of this court, then I should know your name. My brother should know your name. We don’t.”

A light sparks in his eyes. “Ah. Well, allow me to eliminate any confusion. I didn’t say my father was an emissary, Your Highness. He wasn’t a diplomat or a courtier. As you were a boy yourself, I imagine that’s why you don’t have any recollection of his presence.” He glances around the room. “I imagine you won’t find many in your palace who might know him by name.”

I frown, then glance at Quint, who looks just as perplexed as I feel. “Then … what was he?”

Rian smiles. “A spy.”





CHAPTER FOUR

Corrick

I send for Harristan. If Captain Blakemore’s claims are going to turn to talks of secret spies sent by my father, I feel as though the king should be present.

When my brother appears, he’s trailed by his personal guards, followed by two servants bearing a heavy wooden crate with a large padlock, on top of which is a folded length of faded blue-and-purple fabric and several slim leather-bound booklets.

Rian and his lieutenant rise immediately, bowing to Harristan with as much royal deference as they offered me. The servants ease the items onto the table, and I’m surprised when the crate lands lightly. The booklets are placed beside me, revealing the fabric to be a Kandalan flag with tattered edges. Everything smells like the sea, with hints of salt water and something faintly sour.

Harristan’s expression is cool and unreadable, and after a moment of tension, Quint leaps to fill the silence.

“Your Majesty,” he says, “allow me to introduce Captain Rian Blakemore and his first officer, Lieutenant Gwyn Tagas.”

The last syllable has barely left his mouth when Harristan says, “You’re not an emissary at all, Captain Blakemore.”