Page 229 of Carousel

Treatments. Like the blood Riss was given.

The Queen is aware.

Of course she is. She probably just turns a blind eye to it. She cares for nothing but the contents of the dome.

Dezeeves sits higher. “I am grateful to have been on this journey with you, as your protector and saviour⁠—”

He’s cut off as Meg’s radio sounds out.

She jumps up and leaves the room, clutching it to her ear.

Dezeeves clears his throat, gaining our attention again.

“And I have one more announcement to make. You all know taking you home was my intention from the beginning. But D – the Queen,” he corrects himself, “gave me another task, which I am afraid I had to keep from you all. I was tasked with the safe return of her son – her firstborn – whose identity she was required to protect. And I am pleased to say that we have also been able to achieve that. You will know more very soon.”

This garners surprised or questioning looks from around the table.

“Where is he?” someone asks.

“Is he at this table?”

Drake is silent. If anything, he seems to be feigning a look of confusion himself.

My heart rate is springing out of control.

But then I remember none of this should matter.

Of course everyone at this table will learn soon Drake’s identity.

Even Cosmer.

He will be hurt – jealous – to know it was Drake I was once promised to. But it won’t be a problem, because I’ll get him to understand my new plan.

Understand I’m his.

I pull Cosmer’s sleeve. “We should go.”

There are creases in his forehead. He’s hunched over. “The Queen’s son?” he murmurs. “What’s he talking about?”

“Cosmer,” I urge him. “You said we would stay for the meal and leave.”

“But—”

He’s interrupted by Rike, who’s now on his feet, leaning on his good leg, shoulders back.

“If the Queen’s firstborn son is here,” he says, voice clear, with his right hand crossed over his heart, “then I would like him to know I will swear fealty to him. My father was Chief Commander of the Guard. We had our differences, but he trained me well. I learned of his passing a year ago. I am hoping, now, to take his place, as would be my birthright, in tradition. And I hope the future king will allow me to do it. It would be an honour.”

“Excellent,” Dezeeves states. “I am sure the Prince will be pleased to hear that. I will let him know personally.”

“Cosmer,” I plead.

I can’t stay here a minute longer. Risk Dezeeves saying anything more that will upset Cosmer before I’ve had a chance, the right moment, to properly explain everything.

He meets my gaze. He’s still frowning.

“All right,” he says, in a distant way.

I try to ignore it. He’s tired. We both are.