Destroy the Day, page 36
She’s staring up at him. “I do.”
His eyes flick at the doorway. “Go, before he comes in here to get you, and I have to shoot him in the face.”
Her flush deepens, but she nods quickly, and then, without another word, she’s gone.
Erik turns back to me. “Don’t you say a word.”
“Can I say I appreciate the distraction?”
That makes him smile. He drops to one knee again, and I don’t miss the slight sound of pain on his exhale.
“You’re still hurting,” I say.
“Eh. Not like before.” He shrugs it off and draws his dagger. “I’m going to slip this under your thigh,” he says, and his voice is very low, like he’s worried he’ll be overheard. “If someone gets close to you, if anyone touches you, I want you to use it. Point down, just like I showed you.”
I think about the times I’ve practiced in the barn, which just now feels completely inadequate. “I won’t be able to see—”
“I don’t care. Anyone on our side won’t be sneaking up on you. Move your leg. I’m sure Rian is going to look in soon, and I don’t want him to see.”
I inhale sharply and obey. He slips the dagger under my thigh, the hilt pressing against the skin behind my knee. I can feel the danger of it, like a promise. His brown eyes look into mine.
“It’s all right to fight for what you believe in,” he says.
I frown. “Am I fighting for what I believe in, or am I fighting for what Rian believes in?”
Erik goes still for a moment, considering that. “I’ve heard enough about Oren Crane to know he shouldn’t be ruling a country.”
“Should Rian?” I say, thinking of the steps Rian has taken to get to this point. But my words are lost, because another shout comes from outside.
“Douse that lantern! The ship is drawing closer.”
Erik disappears from my side. The room goes dark.
Then he’s back in a heartbeat, and the cloth of the hood brushes against my hair. I remember another night in the dark just like this, when my hands were bound, and I was left in the dark to wait for my fate.
“I’ll be out of sight, Miss Tessa. But I’ll be here.” Erik ties the hood, and then he’s gone.
I shiver at his sudden absence. I have to close my eyes and pretend the darkness is intentional. The dagger under my leg presses into my thigh. I’m remembering a carriage ride. Blue eyes daring mine. Corrick offering me his dagger, when I was terrified of everything I’d learned. Offering me escape.
Oh, Corrick. My love.
I miss him so much that my heart aches. I can hear his voice, smell his scent, feel his touch. I’d give anything for him to be here now.
But I stop the sob before it can form. He’s not here. I am. And maybe Rian has made mistakes, but so did Harristan. So did Corrick. So have I. We’re all just doing our best with the information we have.
So I shift my weight against that dagger, and I tug my wrists to see how loose the rope is.
When Oren Crane comes, I’m ready.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Corrick
Fairde isn’t far.
Or maybe it’s that the journey doesn’t seem to take too long because my heart won’t stop pounding in my chest, and I just want to go back and regroup.
“She won’t trust me,” I’ve tried protesting. “What makes you think your daughter is going to come with me? She knows I was on the ship with Rian.”
Oren shrugged. “Then you’re going to have to do your best, aren’t you?”
“What if we refuse?” Lochlan asked.
“If you’re not going to do your part, I’ll drop you both in the ocean right now.”
That made us both shut up.
We’re sitting against the main mast when lights from the island become visible in the distance. Ford Cheeke is sitting a short distance away, leaning against the ship’s railing. He’s been glaring at me for the duration of the journey, and we’ve hardly exchanged words, because Oren has been on the main deck. But now Oren is at the bow, talking to one of his officers, and we’re alone with Cheeke.
I still can’t quite figure out if he’s an ally or an enemy.
He clearly doesn’t have the best opinion of Kandala.
“What did you mean that I shouldn’t have been born?” I say to him.
He snorts. “Don’t play stupid with me. I knew you were just as corrupt as your father when you wrote that note to our king.”
I stare at him. “I truly am puzzled.”
“Our countries have been at each other’s throats for generations. I warned Rian that he wouldn’t be able to effect a trade agreement for steel. Just look at what’s transpired.” His voice wavers. “And now Penny is at risk again, with Edward no better . . .”
“What did they do to Penny?” says Lochlan.
“As if you care,” he seethes.
“I care,” I say. “I didn’t do this to you. And I genuinely do not know my father’s history with Ostriary.”
“You wrote that vicious note to our king—”
“Because he is an arrogant prick!” I hiss. “He came to us in poor faith. He lied about his identity and hid a prisoner on board his ship. He chastised me for the way my brother ruled Kandala, when he himself could barely hold a kingdom together. We exchanged words at least a dozen times that were easily twice as vicious. On his side as well as mine. I wrote that because I knew he’d believe it. Fawning platitudes would have been the lie.”
Ford blanches. “Oh.” He pauses. “Well, you certainly could’ve said so.”
I scowl. “I’m having a hard time believing that our countries have been at each other’s throats, as you say, when I don’t know anything about it. Neither does my brother.”
“That’s because we didn’t realize you survived the assassination attempts.”
I freeze when he says this, because I’m remembering a very different conversation with Rian, while sitting on a ship in the darkness, just like this. I remember being pummeled with new information that I couldn’t process then, because there was all too much.
Honestly, I can barely process it now.
The attempt on Harristan’s life was thwarted when he was young.
Your Consul Montague tried to poison him to force your parents into demanding a higher price on steel.
Consul Montague later tried to kill my parents. He tried to kill us. He died trying.
Later, we never knew who was behind the attack that ultimately left Harristan sitting on the throne.
I wonder if I’m finding out right now.
Rian told me he expected to find my father sitting on the throne when he made it to Kandala. That’s why he came under our flag, using false documents. That’s why he pretended to be the son of a Kandalan spy who’d been sent away six years before. It was a good story, and I didn’t really question it.
But now that I think about it more carefully, my father definitely would’ve known who he was sending to Ostriary. He would’ve known the original Captain Blakemore’s son, even if Harristan and I didn’t. Rian and Harristan are close to the same age, so the six years between twenty-three and seventeen wouldn’t change someone’s appearance very much. I know Rian didn’t expect to find Harristan, but he certainly couldn’t have expected to fool my father.
Which means he didn’t expect to find him on the throne either.
I wonder who he expected to find.
I grit my teeth. “Rian really is an arrogant prick,” I mutter.
Ford Cheeke and his daughter had all those books and records, but I was so focused on finding Tessa and getting a way home. I didn’t consider asking about what they might know about Kandala. But before I can ask him anything else, Oren is heading back toward us.
“We’re close enough,” he says.
“She’s your daughter,” I say. “Why would you trust me to rescue her?”
“I don’t trust you at all, which is why I’m not walking into a trap. Want to prove yourself? Go get Bella. Now get off the ship. The rowboat is waiting.”
My mouth is dry. I have no cards left to play.
We are walking right into a trap. A trap I set.
I’m handing myself to Rian—if he doesn’t just kill me outright, thinking I’m Oren Crane.
As I climb down the rope ladder with Lochlan, my brain is spinning, trying to find a solution, but there’s nothing. We ease into the rowboat, and my hands find the oars.
I half thought Lina and Mouse might follow us, but they don’t.
I frown at Lochlan. “He’s sending us alone?”
He looks back at me, then looks at the dark shore that’s much farther off than I expected. “I don’t like this. We’re about to end up dead either way.”
My breathing is quick and shallow. “All right. New plan. Rian has to have a decoy, right? We’ll just get her and take her back to the ship.”
“You don’t think he’s going to figure out that it’s not his daughter?”
“I’m counting on Rian’s people to try to stop us, and they can battle it out with Oren then.”
“So we just have to rescue someone who doesn’t want to be rescued.”
“Yes.”
“Someone who’s probably a soldier in a dress, waiting for Oren so they can stab him a thousand times.”
I hadn’t thought of that. I clench my jaw. “Yes.”
Lochlan sighs. “I can’t believe I agreed to get on that ship. All right, Cory.” He digs in with the oars and pulls hard, and the rowboat surges forward. “Still breathing.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Tessa
For an eternity, I hear nothing. It’s so quiet in the house that I begin to piece together sounds from the night: the distant waves lapping at the shore, the insects in the trees outside. It’s warm, and a drip of sweat has worked its way down my spine. Erik put this sack over my head, but he didn’t tie it around my neck. It still reminds me of the night I was bound in the palace, waiting to face the King’s Justice.
Corrick would want me to fight. He’d want me to plunge this dagger into Oren Crane, too.
It was one of the first things I said to Erik after Corrick died: I want you to teach me to fight.
But I’m not a killer. Not really. Even the night I snuck into the palace to kill Harristan and Corrick, I couldn’t do it.
Just now, the memory makes me feel immeasurably weak.
I keep thinking of the way Bella came exploding out of that room on the ship, sweating and sick because Rian had been poisoning her. Am I fighting on Rian’s side because he’s right, or am I fighting on his side because he got to me first?
But I trust Olive. I trust her opinion of Oren. That helps steel my resolve.
I wish I knew where Erik went. I don’t even know if he’s still in the room with me. I don’t think so. Earlier, he whispered that he’d be checking the other windows periodically because he didn’t want us to be taken unawares—and he still doesn’t trust Rian.
The silence goes on for so long that time seems to stretch into infinity—and when sound finally comes, I nearly jolt out of the chair.
It’s a grunt and a scuffle in the hallway somewhere behind me, then the clear sound of a punch being thrown. Glass breaks somewhere, and a man utters a muffled curse. My heart leaps into a gallop, and I jerk at my loose bindings automatically.
Then a hand brushes my arm, and I cry out. I hear a sharp, indrawn breath, but I’m already scrabbling for the dagger. My hand closes around the steel hilt, and I pull it free with a ragged cry.
Suddenly, my thoughts don’t matter. My reasonings don’t matter. I’m being attacked, and I fight back. Just like I’ve practiced, I swing that dagger down with all my strength.
I strike nothing, and instead, I’m wrenched out of the chair sideways, landing on the floor on my back. It nearly knocks the wind out of me, but I kick hard, relieved when I make contact. I try again, but his weight lands on top of me, grabbing my wrist and smacking my hand against the floorboards until I let go of the blade. I don’t know if this is Oren Crane or one of his attackers, but I’m pinned to the floor underneath his body, and my fingers scrabble desperately, seeking the dagger.
“No,” I say, because tears are already burning my eyes. I struggle against his grip, wishing I could see. “No—please—Erik—help—”
My assailant goes still. Completely frozen.
I take advantage of his stillness to redouble my struggles, my fingernails clawing at the floor. Steel brushes my knuckles, and I twist my wrist, grabbing hold of the dagger.
His grip loosens the tiniest fraction. I squeal in rage and lift my arm to drive the blade into whatever I can reach.
But he catches my wrist again. There’s no violence to it, just a secure grip.
The man is breathing so hard I can feel it against my chest.
Then he says, “Tessa?”
My heart stops. I can’t breathe. The dagger falls out of my hand and clatters to the floor.
It’s impossible.
Without warning, the sack is yanked off my head. Cool air rushes in to soothe my tear-stained cheeks.
But there he is, right in front of me. Blue eyes and a smattering of freckles and those sharp features that I’d recognize no matter how many shadows cloak the room.
“Oh, Corrick,” I whisper, and my breath hitches.
He’s staring down at me in wonder, as if I’m the one who’s been dead all this time. My thoughts refuse to believe that he’s here, that this is real, that this is possible.
“Am I dead?” I say, and my voice breaks.
“No, my love.” He takes my hand, and he brings it to his face. He kisses my fingertips, then presses my palm to his cheek. “Very much alive, I promise you.”
I blink, and his face goes blurry before clearing. A tear rolls down my cheek. I’m afraid to move, I’m afraid to breathe, like this is a dream. Like I’ll touch him and the illusion will shatter.
His heart is beating against mine, though, and I can still feel each breath he inhales. I finally let my fingers move, running my thumb along his lower lip. My vision goes blurry again, and my breathing shudders so hard that I can’t catch myself, but I don’t want to blink the tears away this time.
“I don’t want you to disappear,” I say, and then I realize I’m crying in earnest.
“I won’t,” he says. “Never again. I swear it.” He leans down to kiss me. “I swear to you. Never again.”
And then I’m glad that he is the one who moved, because this feels real, the brush of his lips against mine, the way he kisses the tears off my cheeks, the scent of his skin, the rasp of his voice in my ear. “We really do have to stop meeting like this.”
It makes me huff a laugh through my sobs, and I grab him around the neck, clutching him fiercely. “And to think I almost killed you.”
“That was a good strike,” he murmurs against my neck.
“I’ve been practicing,” I say, and my breath refuses to stop hitching.
“I can tell. I’m very glad you were blindfolded.”
I know I need to find out what happened in the hallway, or where Erik went, or why Corrick is a part of this—but I can’t stop clutching at him. Inhaling his breath. Feeling him.
But then he sits up, pulling me with him, tugging me into his lap. Before I can ask him anything at all, his hands find my cheeks, and his mouth lands on mine. Every emotion pours through his kiss, and this is what finally convinces me he’s real. I can feel his longing. His loss. His worry. His fear.
His love. His hope.
For the first time since arriving in Ostriary, I feel settled, like my world has been righted. I have Corrick back, and I can face any challenge.
Then he breaks free, his blue eyes filling mine. His hand presses to my cheek, his thumb brushing along my lip. “Don’t fight him. I’ve told you before what people will do with me.”
A jolt goes through me. “What?”
But he’s looking up, past me. “Are you still going by Captain Blakemore? Or should I address you as Your Majesty? I have a hard enough time keeping track of my own identities, honestly, so you’re going to need to help me with yours.”
I scramble out of Corrick’s lap to see that Rian is in the doorway of my bedroom, a crossbow leveled. Sablo is beside him, an identical weapon in hand.
“Call me whatever you want,” says Rian.
Corrick climbs to his feet more slowly than I did. “I rather doubt you want me to do that.”
“Do it anyway,” a strained male voice calls from the hallway, and I’m shocked to realize that the male voice I heard earlier was Lochlan. “It’ll make you feel better.”
“Was this a trap for me the whole time?” says Corrick.
Rian shrugs. “Only since I knew it was really you.”
A cold wind blows through me at those words. “What?” I whisper again.
“So you double-crossed me?” says Corrick. “I shouldn’t be surprised.”
“I’m not sure you’re in a position to be pointing fingers. I’ve heard a dozen reports that you’ve been torturing people for Oren Crane.”
“You’ve heard wrong,” says Corrick. “Any torture has been by his own hand. I specifically spared the man he told me to execute.”
A muscle twitches in Rian’s jaw. “I know who you are. I know what you’ve done in Kandala. I don’t believe that for a minute.”
I’m not even listening to him. “Did you know?” I demand. “Did you know he was alive?”
Corrick looks to me. “He knew. I specifically asked him to tell you, to verify my words.”
I think back to the day we met Rian on the road. He pulled that parchment out of his pocket—but he never showed it to me.
I don’t even need to ask what it said. I know exactly what Corrick would have written to prove it was him. “So I really was bait,” I finish.
“You volunteered,” says Rian.
Corrick looks at me in surprise. “You volunteered?”
I lift my chin. “In exchange for passage back to Kandala. Someone needs to warn your brother about the Moonflower poison.”
Corrick glares at Rian. “He was never going to give us passage back to Kandala. He’s going to use me against Harristan.” He pauses. “I admit to being a bit surprised that you didn’t take the opportunity to grab Crane while you could. You wanted me that badly?”
