45. Paris

The last thing that I was going to tell Killian while he was trying to help us was that there was no way in the gods' frigid hells that I would let him take Hector anywhere without me. Not after seeing him like this, flat on his back, his eyes hazy and empty, his breathing quick and shallow.

I was terrified, and suddenly glad there were no servants around for me to dismiss. Just as likely, I'd demand to know what hand they had in poisoning my brother, if they had known they were betraying my family and risked the life of a good man.

Hector was?—

The only reason our father was able to be there for us was that he had always known he could rely on Hector. The fear that worked through me now spoke only of how much we had taken advantage of his care all these years. I didn't know what we'd do—what I would do—without him.

I sat for a long time, clinging to his clammy hand, chattering on about the months I'd spent among the Hawk.

Most of it, I'd covered in letters, but I couldn't stop talking, even when people drifted in and out. And rather than relieve the nervous energy in my chest, talking only made it swell and swell until I couldn't simply sit there beside my ailing brother and demand his attention.

So I threw myself into work. While I didn't know what to do with the business papers spread around the suite, I stacked them and arranged them in an order I hoped Hector could make sense of when he was well again. Then, I dragged Brett with me to the kitchens, purloining a pot and ingredients and everything I needed while the palace chef looked on, stunned.

We might've come down to the kitchens for sustenance between meals in the palace, or if we meant to go out for the day, but we'd never come to the kitchen seeking ingredients.

The problem was, I didn't trust anyone preparing food for my brother. But a raw potato with its skin still intact? I had to believe that was safe enough to cook and prepare.

So I set to making a stew, leaning on all that Rosaline had taught me while the others looked on, confused as I made best use of a hearth that'd never been used for anything more serious than warming up water for tea.

"We should take turns sleeping," Killian said to Brett while I worked. "Someone should always be awake, keeping watch. While I hardly expect an assassin to find us in the night, it's clear that there's more here at play than we know. I won't discount the possibility."

Brett sighed. "You're right."

"I'll take first watch," Killian offered.

So after Brett had eaten, he went off to bed, and Killian offered to take Hector the fresh stew—only after taking a bite of it himself to check it was safe.

Gods, the relief I felt just to see that I wasn't inadvertently poisoning my brother myself was knee-buckling.

I offered Helena a bowl as well, and was rather happy to sit down myself, before anyone noticed that my legs really had begun to shake and that my hands were unsteady.

After eating, Helena sat with me in front of the fire, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. She stared into the hearth, so that orange flames reflected against the dark canvas of her irises. She sucked in a deep breath, nose flaring, and her vision cleared when she looked at me.

"Tybalt, huh?" I said.

She laughed. "We're in a mess, aren't we?"

"Would you... I mean, you'd be a princess."

Helena's nose wrinkled in disgust. "Why would I want that?"

I shrugged, pinching my hands between my knees. "It's not a bad title."

Helena looked profoundly unimpressed with me as she tilted her head to the side and narrowed her eyes. "Do you honestly think I care about titles? Tell me, if I married Tybalt, wouldn't it hurt you?"

I swallowed roughly, unable to answer. Perhaps I didn't want a future with a man who could so easily ignore me for months at a time, but that didn't mean I could watch him marry another without feeling anything, particularly if his intended was my own sister.

"And what about me?" she continued. "Do you think I'd weather a marriage to him?"

Guilt fell over me all at once, like a sudden snowstorm opening up and dropping a blanket of ice on my head, leaving me too senseless to move—that was the arrangement I'd resigned myself to. I'd always known that whatever Tybalt and I had could never be open and accepted in Urial—not when he was the crown prince. One day, he would marry someone who could provide him a child and heir of his own, and at best, he would keep me nearby as an "advisor." Now, imagining my sister in the role of Tybalt's spurned wife, I?—

Gods, I'd been so foolish, so willing to submit to my own discomfort, so willing to compromise my own happiness and sense of safety, I hadn't even thought about the mess I would enable. Perhaps Tybalt would've found a wife who found the arrangement perfectly suitable, but I knew him better than that. Tybalt wasn't an open communicator. He wasn't the sort of man who considered what another person might want or what would benefit them if it meant sacrificing even an ounce of his own comfort.

As I hissed, squeezing my eyes tight shut and pinching the bridge of my nose, Helena's chair creaked as she settled back and folded her legs beneath her.

"No, I'd rather not marry Tybalt."

I dropped my hand. "You're wiser than I am, then."

She grinned. "Well, we've always known that."

We sat as the minutes ticked by in silence, then, with a sigh, Helena rose and went to pour herself a glass of water. She wedged into the seat beside me and offered me a sip, which I took, breathing deep as that cool sensation spread through my chest. I'd been parched and hadn't even realized, instinctively avoiding drink when I couldn't trust the palace around me.

Humming, Helena pinched one of the feathers behind my ear and dragged her finger down the quill of it. "These are pretty."

I held the glass between both hands, wedged once again between my knees to stop me from shaking them. "They're for Mother and Father. They—" I sucked in a sharp breath. "I do not want another. Not so soon. Helena, I?—"

If I hadn't fallen for Tybalt, perhaps none of this would've happened. Hector would still be safe, I'd be settled in Nemeda and would never have abandoned my family to this danger, and Helena would be free to marry whomever she liked. That the king had picked her—yes, I knew that my sister would make a fine match for any lordling that Urial had to offer, but this felt more personal than that.

She dropped her head against my shoulder. "He's going to be fine," she promised on a whisper. "He wouldn't leave us. Not like this."

As if on cue, Killian slipped out of Hector's room, carrying blankets toward the couch Helena had abandoned.

She sat up straighter at the sight of him. "Are you sure you don't mind sleeping out here?"

Killian's smile was distant and calm. "Not at all. I'd hardly deprive you of your own bed when you most need the rest, and I promise, I've slept far less comfortably than this."

I couldn't stand the thought of finding rooms for Killian and Brett other than our family's. It felt like, with that lock on the door that Hector had torn apart and fixed all those years ago, we might be safe behind that one door. I didn't want to risk separation.

Still, Helena chewed her lip. "Well, if you need anything?—"

"I'll let you know."

She nodded and rose to refill her cup. "We should let you rest then. I suspect we'll all need it."

And still, even after she went off to bed, I hesitated there, staring at Killian as he stared back at me.

The Crane owed me nothing, yet he was here, and—and what might've happened if he hadn't recognized the poison?

"Thank you," I whispered thickly, gratitude making my throat tight and tongue clumsy. "For coming, and for—I wouldn't want Brett here with just me to help navigate this."

"You're welcome, little Hawk owl," he said kindly. I couldn't believe that this was truly no strain on him at all, but it didn't show in his eyes, and it'd be too strange for me to demand that he reprimand me, call me a fool for dragging my whole family into trouble.

I held his eye for a moment, waiting for some biting comment that I was sure I deserved, but it never came, and in time, I nodded, rose, and shuffled my feet back to a bedroom that no longer felt like mine, but for the Hawk beneath my sheets.