49. Paris

That night, I was too exhausted, too overwhelmed, to do anything but curl into Brett's side and rest my head on his chest. The steady thump of his heart beneath my ear made me feel safe.

I didn't feel like talking. I was ashamed, really, that Tybalt was... such as he was. So many of my memories came together in a new light. Even that morning before I'd left for Nemeda—he'd smelled distinctly sweaty, and the lump in his bed as he'd broken his fast, quickly hidden behind the bed's draperies, surely that hadn't been another person.

Gods, all I wanted was silence.

Brett, patient as ever, was inclined to give it to me.

But in the morning, silence wasn't an option. One thing had solidified in my mind: we needed to leave Urial.

I'd come back for my family, but as it stood, my brother was being poisoned and my sister was being married against her will. I couldn't stand the thought of Tybalt ever putting a hand on her, though I was surprised it was disgust, not jealousy, driving my refusal.

To my mind, we had no reason to stay in Urial. Yes, it was the country of our birth, and while Father'd been alive, I never would have imagined abandoning it. Now, it made my skin crawl to stay one more minute.

"We can't just leave," Helena whispered.

I'd told her first, over breakfast with Killian and Brett.

"We can," I insisted.

"I'm engaged—to the prince." She didn't say it with stars in her eyes, but with a sudden, horrified pallor.

"To a man you don't want," Killian said, "who admits openly that he doesn't want you. You cannot marry if you are not here."

Helena bit her lip. She was tempted, even if she was afraid. How could I blame her for that? I'd been terrified of Nemeda at first.

"What about Hector?" she asked. "I don't think he should travel until he's better?—"

"We'll figure it out," I promised. "We just have to get everyone on the same page first."

Which led us to Hector's bedroom, and I watched as he struggled to prop himself up on his pillows. Helena helped him, Killian on the other side, and my stomach gave a hard twist.

What if the poison had damaged his heart, his lungs? He had to recover. I—I couldn't live in a world where he didn't get better.

"This seems serious," he said with a wan smile, once he'd fallen back into the freshly fluffed mountain of pillows.

I nodded. There was no sense denying it. The four of us wore pinched expressions, Hector the only one trying for a smile.

"We should leave court," I said. "Leave Urial entirely, if we can. The Nemedans are willing to have us. It's—Hector, it's different, but it's good. Everyone works. Everyone contributes. It won't just be you taking care of us anymore."

The corners of Hector's eyes crinkled, like he was in pain. "Paris, you're my family. I don't mind taking care of you."

I swallowed hard and shook my head, gratitude and shame spinning through me at the idea that Hector could so easily resign himself to that, that I'd never questioned whether he should pursue his own life, so long as I had him there supporting mine.

"It's what I'm here for," he whispered thickly.

"I know," I said. "I do. But Hector, you were poisoned. Who's to say it won't happen again? Or that there won't be some more overt attempt at an assassination once court realizes you're better?"

Hector grimaced, looking at his lap as if he blamed himself for the crime of being poisoned.

"Hector," I pressed, "I want to go. Things will be better there. We'll be safe, and—and there won't be more of this court intrigue. Or, well"—I bit my lip, thinking of Clio and Memnon and Orestes—"what there is seems abnormal and quickly dispersed. We'll be safe."

"I can keep us safe here, at home," Hector said, but even the roughness of his voice betrayed the truth. We didn't know for certain that King Albany was behind this, but I was convinced his agents surely were—men working behind the scenes to make sure all that occurred in Urial met the king's desires.

Strangely, when Killian leaned over my brother, there was no cruelty in his eyes or sharpness in his words. "You cannot keep your family safe if you are dead," he said simply.

My brother flinched back into the pillows, looking away. He didn't like the idea of facing his own limits, and while that wasn't a strange thing to dislike for most people, Hector had always taken it to the extreme. If he came upon a problem he couldn't immediately solve, he fixated on it, driving himself to madness until the problem bent before his iron will.

Now, he was simply too tired to manage it.

"And you?" Hector asked, looking up at Helena.

She bit her lip for a moment, looking between the two of us. "I trust Paris. Things are... bad here, Hector. If we could have a better life, a safer one, with the Nemedans, if they're offering that, I'm inclined to try."

I knew what she wasn't saying, because the same longing pulsed in my chest—I would abandon Urial in a flash if it meant keeping Hector safe, but we weren't up to the challenge of protecting him here.

Each time the servants delivered that damned soup, a cold prickle rushed across my skin. Someone was trying to kill my brother, and perhaps that was a mystery worth unfolding, but maybe—maybe it just wasn't. Maybe the best thing we could do was get away, and leave these vipers to their own sharp fangs.

With a sigh, Hector closed his eyes. His eyelids were purple and had a strange, thin look.

But Helena and I had both stated our desires, and it was impossible to imagine Hector would deny them.

"Then you should go without me," he said solemnly.

"No!" Helena said.

"Absolutely not," I agreed.

Brett was somewhat calmer when he said, "Paris says your family has a carriage?"

After another uncomfortable swallow, Hector nodded. "But if the king sends riders after us—you'll be faster without me."

Killian's eyes rolled up. It took him a moment to master the clear desire to tell my brother he was being an idiot, but I was glad that he did. There was no quicker way to get Hector to dig his heels in.

"That's ridiculous," Killian said. "I will ride with you and Helena. Brett and Paris will travel ahead. If we think we're being followed, we'll take a more winding route. We're not leaving you behind to die."

"And what if King Albany follows us into Nemeda?" Hector asked. "What then? Why take the risk?"

Killian's laugh was sharp. "Do you truly think your king would risk open war to chase a family, only one of whom he has any use for?" His gaze drifted to Helena. "You're lovely, but forgive me when I say the cost to secure your hand would be too high."

"You'd court disaster for all of Nemeda for us." Hector shook his head. "It's madness."

Killian arched perfect white brows and crossed his arms, the effect making him appear even broader and more formidable than usual. "If you truly think King Albany would start a war over such a small slight, I will put him down today, and we'll see what kind of king his wayward son makes."

I shuddered. I held no loyalty to King Albany, but I couldn't imagine Tybalt on the throne.

My brother sighed, sinking deeper into the bed. "If we do this, King Albany will strip our family of our ancestral lands before we even cross the border. We will have nothing to fall back on. So tell me, Chief Brett"—Hector lifted his tired eyes, and for the first time since we'd returned, they flashed with the sharp competency that I'd always expected—"why does my brother trust you? Why should I trust the future of my entire family to your hands?"

My mouth fell slack. I should've told them—wanted to tell them—how I'd changed. But when the moment arrived, my mouth had gone dry, my tongue too thick to form words.

I wanted my family to know that I was safe and happy, but there was a ball of doubt in my chest that—that everything Brett feared would come to pass, that I'd be responsible for making things worse for Nemeda and opening up a war on another front.

And gods, though I wanted to be honest, I couldn't make the words.