But I think of Tessa and Harristan facing down the rebels and I want to break his arms myself. I hook my fingers on the cell bars and hold his gaze. “You said you’ve allied with other consuls to overthrow Harristan. Who?”
“I’m not telling you anything.”
“Do you recall asking if I torture prisoners during questioning?” I say, and I feel that familiar cool distance wind through my thoughts, the one that allows me to do what needs to be done. With Allisander, I hardly need it. “Would you like to find out?”
He steps forward like he’s going to attack the bars, but Rocco is through the gate and stops him before I can blink.
He twists Allisander’s left arm up behind his body, probably using a little more force than necessary, because the consul gasps and hisses a breath through his teeth.
Based on the look on Rocco’s face, I don’t think I’m the only one who doesn’t like this man.
“Tell me,” I say.
“No.”
My eyes flick up to Rocco. “Break a finger.”
The guard shifts his weight, and Allisander cries out before he catches himself. A sheen of sweat blooms on his forehead. “I’m going to hang your body on my gate, Corrick.”
I don’t look away from him. “Break another one.”
This time the snap is audible. There’s blood on Allisander’s teeth. He must have bitten his tongue.
“Tell me,” I say.
He glares at me, his breathing rapid and fractured.
I glance at Rocco. “Another one.”
“All right!” Allisander shouts. He’s almost keening now. “Leander Craft! Lissa Marpetta!”
I’m not surprised about Lissa. Leander is lying dead on the dais of the Circle, so I’m not worried about him either.
“What do you know about Arella and Roydan?” I say. “What are they doing?”
He’s panting, and I wonder if Rocco is putting pressure on another limb. “I don’t know,” he says swiftly. “I don’t know.”
“Break another finger—”
“No!” he pants. “Corrick, I swear it. I swear to you. Arella has been going through documents from Trader’s Landing with Roydan.”
“What kind of documents?”
“Shipping logs. That’s all I know.”
Shipping logs. That doesn’t seem important enough to warrant secret meetings. “Are they funding these raids?”
“No!” He gasps, then swallows. “I mean—I don’t know.”
Rocco looks at me. “Consul Cherry does not keep company with Consul Sallister.”
That’s true. Arella and Allisander are most definitely not friends.
“Do you know what’s been happening while you’ve been locked down here?” I say to him.
“No.” A fresh bloom of sweat appears on his forehead.
“Rebels have attacked the palace. They’ve taken the other consuls hostage. Harristan is trying to negotiate for their release.”
His reaction is . . . not what I expect. He blinks at me in dismay. “They’ve attacked the palace?”
“Yes. Leander Craft is dead. So is Jonas Beeching’s niece. Possibly more in the time you’ve been stalling.” I pause. “You should be thanking me for locking you down here.”
“They weren’t supposed to attack the palace.”
The impact of those words takes a moment to hit me.
They weren’t supposed to attack the palace.
“Allisander,” I snap. “What have you done?”
He says nothing. Rocco makes a small motion, and the consul cries out.
“Please,” he whimpers. “They were supposed to attack the supply runs. Leander was a good man. They weren’t supposed to come into the sector.”
I stare at him. “You—you were working with the rebels? To attack your own supply runs?”
“It was just a little bit of medicine here and there,” he says. “They’ll do anything for it, Corrick. It was easy, really, and they don’t—”
“But—” Maybe I’m too tired or too injured or too overwhelmed, but my brain can’t make sense of this. “But why?”
“Because Harristan wouldn’t pay a higher price if my shipments weren’t at risk.”
I have to take a step back from the bars.
I want to kill him myself.
“You did it for silver?” I demand.
“No. I did it because this time, I could force him to give me what I asked for.”
I freeze.
“I see the way you manipulate the consuls,” he says, “making us volley for funds. I saw it when I was a boy, when we asked for part of Lissa’s lands.”
“He was your friend, Allisander!”
“No. He was not my friend. A friend would not have humiliated me before half the nobility. A friend would have found a way to help me save face in front of my father. Harristan is no one’s friend, Corrick. Not even yours. Look at the way he left you in prison for an entire day.”
My fingers tighten on the bars.
“Do you know how much convincing it took for me to get him to accuse you?” he says. He leans in, his voice turning vicious. “It wasn’t much at all.”
I have to shake off the doubts he’s putting into my mind. I know my role here. I know what I’ve done.
I’m only beginning to clearly see what Allisander has done.
I think of the prisoners we were set to execute, the ones led by Lochlan. I kept saying they weren’t organized, because they weren’t. They were innocent people lured into smuggling by Allisander—a man who was urging their punishment from the other side.
He was giving silver and medicine to desperate people. He was urging them to rebel—right when they needed little urging. And he was giving them the means to do it.
I think of Tessa splitting the petals before the explosions in the palace. I put my hands over my mouth and try to force my brain to think.
“You weren’t even giving the rebels real medicine,” I say softly.
“Why would I risk real medicine?” he demands. “Lissa has been supplying it to the palace for years.”
I take a jolting step back. Lissa, who never demands anything. Lissa, who’s always happy to maintain the status quo.
Lissa, who stood in the salon and tried to convince me not to trust Tessa. It had nothing to do with her being a girl from the Wilds.
It had to do with knowledge, and information, and access to everything Lissa was doing wrong.
It’s just like Tessa said before the rebels attacked the palace. We’re not getting a full dosage. Of course we need to take it three times a day in the palace.
Of course Harristan always seems on the verge of illness.
“You started this revolution,” I say to Allisander. “Out of petty revenge.”
“We all helped start this revolution,” he snaps. “You too, Your Highness. You, the King’s Justice. I gave them the means. You gave them the reason.”
I flinch. I can’t help it.
But then I take a breath and look at him. I can’t undo what’s been done, but maybe I can help stop what’s been set in motion. “The rebels will not yield to Harristan. He can’t promise access to the Moonflower—not when you’re refusing to send shipments that are at risk.”
“I don’t care if Harristan falls to the rebels or to the consuls,” Allisander says. “Either way, your brother will not be in power for long.”
I slam my hand against the bars and the clang echoes throughout the prison. “Are you not hearing me?” I say. “Are you not listening? They will kill the other consuls. They have set the palace on fire. If we cannot find a way to undo this mess that you had a hand in creating, then there will be no Royal Sector to spend silver on your precious shipments.”
He blanches at that.
“I will not bargain with smugglers,” he says.
“You already have. And I don’t want a bargain. I want medicine, and plenty of it. Harristan needs to be able to buy time.”
“Absolutely not. You
will not have one single petal—”
“Shut up.” I look at Rocco. “Bring him.”
Rocco drags Allisander out of the cell. He screams and thrashes the whole way, but the guard is impassive and unaffected, even when we move to climb the stairs.
I think of Tessa and Harristan facing down the rebels. I think of Arella Cherry begging for leniency, even though it pitted her against the other consuls, every single time. I think of Jonas Beeching pleading for more silver, and how Allisander accused him of cheating the system to buy more medicine.
And all the while, Allisander was trying to inflate his own prices.
I should tell Rocco to knock him down the stairs.
When we get out of the prison and onto the streets, Allisander shuts up. I don’t know if it’s the smoke in the air or the fact that we can see that fires still burn in the east wing of the palace, but I’m glad something made him stop.
“They did this?” he says, and his tone is strangled.
“You gave them the means,” I snap.
Rocco binds his hands while I climb onto my horse, and then I take the rope and give it a jerk, nearly knocking Allisander off his feet. “Walk,” I say to him.
“I absolutely will not—”
“Suit yourself.” I loop the rope through the pommel of my saddle and cluck to the horse. The rope jerks tight.
Allisander swears and stumbles and almost falls, but he must decide walking is better than being dragged. “This is extortion,” he snaps at me.
“Medicine,” I snap back. “How much can you provide?”
“None.”
I look at Rocco. “Fancy a gallop?” I draw up my reins. The horse begins to prance, eager.
“Fine,” Allisander grits out. “A week of medicine.”
“Eight weeks.”
“I cannot provide medicine to all of Kandala for eight weeks—” But he breaks off as we sidestep a pair of bodies in the street. Two members of the night patrol. One took an arrow through the chest, though the other looks like he took an ax to the head. Tissue and bone glisten in the moonlight. Allisander realizes he’s walking through blood and probably other things and sidesteps quickly.
His breathing has gone shallow and ragged. He probably wants his precious handkerchief.
“There are more,” I say. A dozen yards ahead, we stumble upon three more. One woman, two men. A wide swath of blood streaks across a wall, black in the shadowed street.
“Two weeks,” Allisander says, and it sounds like the words have been forced out of his mouth.
“Six,” I say.
“Four.”
“Six.”
“Four, Corrick! I can’t do more than that, and you know it.”
I look down at him. “Yes. You can.”
“I will agree to six if Consul Marpetta will agree to the same.”
“She usually follows your—” I break off. What did Lochlan and Karri say in the hut when Tessa was stitching me up? There’s a man and a woman. We call them the Benefactors. I thought it was Arella and Roydan. And Lissa was one of the few consuls who left the palace before any of this happened. “Allisander,” I demand. “Is Lissa doing this with you?”
He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to.
“Six weeks,” I say to him. “And you’ll be lucky if Harristan lets you keep your head at the end of it.” I give the rope a sharp tug. “Hurry up. We need to stop a war.”
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Tessa
We’ve retreated back to stand among the army. The rebels haven’t killed any more consuls, but they seem to have an endless collection of their glass explosives, because they toss them at anyone who rides close. They’ve built their fires ever higher, and their chants vary between kill the king and we want medicine.
I’m on the fringes, but the king is surrounded by advisers. “The long bowmen can take out some of them,” an army captain is saying to him, “but they’d be able to kill the consuls before we could save them all.”
Harristan runs a hand along his jaw. His eyes are hard and tired.
He doesn’t have to say it, but I know the truth anyway. If they storm this dais, they’ll kill everyone.
I look back at the Circle. I can see the shadows of people moving around. They must be equally tired—and frightened.
I wonder if Karri is a part of it.
I step away from the army, and no one stops me. I ease silently over the cobblestones to stop in front of the flames where I know Lochlan waits.
A glass bomb comes flying out of the smoke, and I jump out of the way. Flaming bits strike my skirts anyway.
“Hey!” yells a soldier, but I put my hands up and face the flames.
“Lochlan!” I shout. “Lochlan, please. Please talk to me.”
The shadows move and shift, and then he’s visible, but barely.
“I have nothing to offer you,” he calls.
“The king wants to find a solution,” I say desperately. “Please. He doesn’t want a war. He wants to help.”
“He had time to help.”
“He’s going to kill you,” I cry. “Do you understand? He’s offered everything he can.”
“He’s already killing us,” Lochlan says, and I can hear the matching emotion under his words. “You know that, Tessa.”
“I know. I know.” And I do know. That’s always been the problem. There’s never enough medicine to go around. “But . . . maybe . . .”
“Maybe what?” Lochlan calls. “Maybe the rich people will have their way and we’ll go back to the way it was? No, Tessa. No.”
“No,” calls a man’s voice from behind me, and I have to do a double-take when I see that it’s Corrick. He’s on horseback, leading a man through the haze by a rope.
Then I have to do a triple-take, because that man is Consul Sallister.
“You’ll have medicine,” says Corrick. “Eight weeks. From Allisander Sallister himself. He’s pledged his assistance in finding a way to make Moonflower petals available to all.”
“I said six,” Allisander hisses, and Corrick kicks him in the shoulder.
“Tell them,” Corrick says. “Tell them you will grant eight weeks of medicine to all citizens if they will stand down.”
“Yes,” Allisander calls. “I will grant eight weeks of medicine to all citizens.”
A few people have moved forward to join Lochlan at the edge of the dais. One of them looks like Karri, and she’s moved close. I watch as she intertwines her fingers with his.
Oh. I somehow missed that.
“We’re already receiving medicine,” calls Lochlan. “From the Benefactors.”
“It’s tainted!” I call back. “It’s laced with something else. You’ve been tricked.”
A murmur goes through the crowd, both the army at my back and among the people on the dais.
“Lies,” says Lochlan, but for the first time, his voice falters.
“You have to have noticed,” I say. “Tris said it herself, that the people have grown more desperate.” My voice breaks. “There are more fevers, aren’t there?” I say to him. “Aren’t there?”
Another murmur goes through the crowd.
A boot scrapes against the cobblestones, and the king himself appears beside me. “Eight weeks of medicine. Real medicine. Enough time to form a new plan. A better plan.” He pauses. “And I will not just meet with my consuls. You are not the only ones who have been tricked. I will meet with you as well. A council of the people.”
Lochlan hasn’t moved. He’s not staring at the king. He’s staring at me.
I glance at Harristan. “Amnesty,” I whisper.
He takes a heavy breath. “If you release your remaining hostages and agree to leave the sector peacefully, I will have my army stand down. I will grant amnesty up till this very moment, but not one second longer.”
Lochlan glances at Karri, then back at me.
But still he doesn’t concede.
Shadows on the dais shift and move beyond
the fire. Someone has approached Lochlan. After a moment, I realize it’s Earle, with little Forrest beside him. My heart kicks. There’s so much violence here, so much danger.
But then Earle says, “Tessa.” His voice booms over the crowd. “When you spoke for Wes—for Prince Corrick—you spoke of all the things he did for us.”
“Yes,” I say. “Yes, he did it for you.”
“Even while he did all of that, he was still the King’s Justice.”
I have to swallow past the lump in my throat. “Yes.” My voice breaks. I can feel the sudden tension in the army behind me. This is all going to unravel again. They have no reason to trust King Harristan or Prince Corrick. “Yes. I know.”
“But you weren’t,” Earle says.
I hold my breath. “What?”
“You were . . . just Tessa.”
A woman approaches them, and I almost don’t recognize her through the soot on her sweaty cheeks. Bree, the young widow. “Tessa.” Her voice isn’t as loud as Earle’s, and I lean in to hear her. “You spoke of all the things Wes did. But . . . but you never talked about the things you did.” Her voice breaks. “You set my boy’s arm when he broke it falling from the tree. You showed me how to make a poultice.”
“You saved Forrest,” says Earle. “From the night patrol.”
Another man steps forward. “You stitched up my hand when I sliced it on the ax.”
An older woman. “You brought me blankets when the mice chewed through mine.”
One by one, more rebels approach the edge of the dais, each one announcing something I’ve done to help them.
“You brought us medicine.”
“You helped me birth that calf. I thought I was going to lose the cow.”
“You taught me how to salve a burn.”
My throat is tight, and a tear streaks down my face, but they keep going.
“You showed us how to make the medicine last.”
“You helped us save ourselves.”
“There are so many of us here. Because of you.”
A boot scrapes on the cobblestones beside me, and I look over to find Corrick at my side. His rough fingers lace through mine. “You don’t trust me,” he calls to the rebels. “I don’t expect you to trust me.” He glances at me, and his blue eyes are full of emotion. “But you trust Tessa.”
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