Rhy smiled. “Do you remember the year we hauled all those lanterns up here…” Kell had lit the wicks, and Rhy had set them free, and together they had watched the lights float away like newborn stars.
Beside him, Kell lurched upright. “Sanct,” he hissed. “I’m such a fool.”
“Hm?” asked Rhy sleepily.
“I saw them. In the hold of the ship. I saw them, and I couldn’t for the life of me remember what they were for.”
“I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about,” said Rhy, the wine weighing down his limbs in a pleasant way. He wanted to hold on to that feeling, but the furrow was back in Kell’s brow, and he seemed suddenly, painfully sober.
“We raided a Veskan smuggler. They had weapons, and bottles of tark—”
“I do love tark—”
“—and a crate of white lanterns, the kind we use on the Long Dark Night.” Kell’s head fell into his hands. “I should have thought to take one, but we were ambushed.”
“Is it so strange?” asked Rhy. “Smugglers trade in whatever they can sell, and the lanterns are always in demand. Besides, every crate will be searched when it docks for the festival.”
Kell stared at him, aghast. “You can’t intend to celebrate this year.”
Rhy stared back. “Of course I do,” he said defensively.
“You are on the brink of war with Vesk, and a group of faceless rebels is plotting to overthrow you.”
“Oh really?” said Rhy, sitting up. “I had no idea—”
“And you would hand them the perfect chance, a night when the city is overrun with strangers and magic, and you are on display.”
“I have to do it.”
“Don’t be a fool,” snapped Kell. “You don’t have enough guards, and even if you did, you could not predict where an attack—”
“Kell,” he said, the name cutting through the air. “I have to.”
Rhy didn’t look at his brother when he said it, but he could feel the weight of his gaze. A long moment passed. Then, a sharp intake of breath. “Tell me you aren’t planning to use this to draw out the Hand.”
Rhy rolled the empty wine bottle between his palms. “Fine, I won’t.”
He did not say that it had crossed his mind, did not say that he had spent the last few months as a prisoner in his own palace, caged by other people’s threats and fears, did not say that he was sick of feeling terrified, and powerless.
“Three hundred years,” he said instead. “This winter marks three hundred years since the darkness was defeated. By my family. The Maresh.” He met Kell’s gaze. “How will it look if I don’t?”
Kell’s jaw clenched, but he said nothing.
Rhy stared out at the sprawl of the city, bathed in crimson, the buildings jewel-lit in the dark.
“I am the king,” he said quietly. “There will always be someone trying to kill me. Of course, I know it’s not me—I’m just a crown, a name, a mantle in a fancy chair. But I admit, it’s hard not to take it personally. Especially after the Shadows.”
The Shadows—not a terribly inventive name for a rebellion, but then, the Hand wasn’t much better. He’d been twelve when the Shadows abducted him from the palace grounds, left him bleeding to death in the bottom of a boat. If Kell hadn’t found him—but of course, he had.
“I don’t even know why they did it.”
“Taxes, I think,” said Kell, sipping his wine.
Rhy sighed. “How horribly mundane.” But then, what drove the Hand? “I’ve wondered, you know, if it could be them. The Shadows, going by a different name.”
“It’s not,” said Kell stiffly.
“How do you know?”
“Because I killed them all.”
Rhy said nothing. He hadn’t known. But he’d suspected. Not because the Shadows had suddenly vanished, though they had. No, there had been a moment the night after the attack. He’d woken up safe in the palace, buzzing with fear in the aftermath, and gone to find Kell. He’d snuck down the secret passage that joined their rooms, expected to see his brother asleep in bed. Instead he’d found him sitting in the copper-plated bath, his head tipped back against the rim. His clothes lay piled on the floor, and the only light was the crimson of the Isle spilling in from the balcony. And in that glow, it was hard to tell, but Rhy swore that the water was red.
His brother hadn’t heard him, and Rhy had crept back down the hidden hall, and into bed. Now, Kell’s voice dragged him back to the roof.