The Mirror King (Orphan Queen) (29 page)

MY EYES WERE
gummy in the morning, aching with the loss of Tobiah and the Ospreys and an entire kingdom I’d been raised to hate, but grown to love.

In spite of the grief, there was work to do, and I needed to appear strong. Truly, I
was
stronger; keeping the notebooks active had been draining me, and without them I had a chance of enduring the day.

Today was an important day. Historic, maybe.

Tomorrow would be bigger.

I sat still as Danie smoothed powder under my eyes to conceal the evidence of my late, restless night. She found a soft, dove gray dress and waited while I changed behind the partition.

“Will there be anything else, Your Majesty?” she asked, once she’d finished braiding my hair.

“That’s all.” I smiled as warmly as possible. “When you admire Sergeant Wallace today, maybe you should try speaking to him, too.”

Her throat and cheeks flushed. “Oh, I couldn’t. He’s much too good for me.”

“Never say that.” I stepped forward and squeezed her arm as I would have Melanie’s or Paige’s, and Danie tensed. Though she touched me all the time to do my hair or apply cosmetics or help me dress, she was always quick and efficient, never casual. I was a flasher queen, commander of the wraith boy: I was terrifying.

When I backed away, Danie forced her shoulders down. “Maybe I’ll try. Good day, Your Majesty.” She was out of the room in seconds. That probably counted as fleeing.

I grabbed my black notebook and papers, and headed out the door a moment later.

“What did you do to Danie?” Paige asked. “She looked somewhere between alarmed and ill when she came running out.”

Behind us, Melanie fished a coin from her pocket and gave it to James; he’d won the bet.

I sighed as we headed to the council room. “I’m trying to be friendly to the staff. To show them I care.”

Paige grimaced as I told her about my attempt to encourage Danie. “Just be nice. Let her do her job and be nice to her. Remember, you’re not spying on the staff and you don’t want to give that impression.”

“I’ll try.” My heart pounded as we reached the council chamber.

Oscar and Ronald were already there, as well as a handful of nobles from other parts of the kingdom.

Everyone stood when I entered.

Jasper and Cora Calloway, the count and countess from Northland, had been kind to me, and supportive. Across from them were Harrison and Desiree Symonds from Trinity, the first destination for most refugees. They had twin daughters—Summer and Juniper—who raced through the halls of Sandcliff Castle, playing like the wraith didn’t concern them.

Prince Colin was there, too, his arms pulled over his chest in a defensive posture.

Melanie took her place at the table while the rest of my guard watched from the wall. Red uniforms nearly outnumbered the blue here.

“Thank you for joining me this morning.” I looked around the table, meeting everyone’s eyes for a heartbeat. “We’ve always known the Indigo Kingdom couldn’t stand between Aecor and the wraith forever. But none of us thought this day would come so soon.”

There was nodding all around.

“After yesterday’s devastating news, I promised a plan to keep Aecor safe. My closest advisers and I spent last night working out the details.

“We still think a barrier similar to the one Liadia constructed is our best chance. As such, Captain Rayner will lead a team into the wraithland to gather whatever remains of the barrier King Tobiah built. Meanwhile, we will build our own facility. Flashers who volunteer their magic for the new barrier will be compensated. I will be first to pour my magic into the
barrier that will protect our kingdom. Paige, please see that the plans are drawn up.”

She nodded and wrote a note to herself.

“A waste of resources,” Harrison Symonds said.

I turned my glare on him. “The only other option is giving up, and I’m not willing to do that. Not when there’s still hope.”

“
Is
there still hope?” Lord Symonds rose and leaned forward, his hands flat on the table. His wife touched his arm and shook her head, but he ignored her. “Most of the continent has fallen to the wraith. A hundred years of wiser minds than yours have worked to contain or stop the wraith. The barrier in Liadia failed after only a year—”

“Then what do you propose?” My fingernails dug into my palms. “Should we sit here and wait to die? Tell thousands of people out there that we’ve given up? If you thought the riots were bad before—”

“I suppose you would know about the common people?”

“I know enough to tell you this: people are scared. In Skyvale, it was this constant, low-grade terror. Knowing the wraith was coming, knowing they could do nothing about it.”

“They could have stopped using magic,” Prince Colin said. “They could have turned in the flashers among them.”

“Some did.” My chest ached. “They told the police and left signals for Black Knife. But mostly, they wanted to be able to trust their king and queen. Their princes. They wanted to believe in the people whose responsibility it was to care for them. They wanted to trust that their leaders would find a way to keep them safe from the wraith. And now you want me to tell my people that we’ve given up.”

“Just two men.” Melanie’s words jerked me back into the present. The Grays, the Calloways, Lady Symonds, and even the guards—they were all staring at Prince Colin, Harrison, and me. Melanie’s tone remained level. “Not
we
.”

I shook my head. “No matter what I said, it would be
we
. No one would care about the difference. Besides, if I allowed that kind of announcement to be made, it
would
mean I’d given up, too. And I won’t do that.”

“You don’t have a choice.” Prince Colin strode toward me, just a hair too close for politeness. “You’re a queen in name only. I remain overlord.”

I stood, tipping my chair back, and closed the gap between us, suddenly in
his
space. “Wrong again. As you said, the Indigo Kingdom is gone. Your king is dead. You’re the heir to a falling kingdom, and your claim to the title of overlord is empty. That leaves you with two choices: leave Aecor, or admit you are now a refugee. In accordance with the Wraith Alliance, you are welcome to stay here as a ward of the independent kingdom of Aecor.”

The council room was silent, save Lord Symonds’s “I humbly respect my queen’s wishes.”

I wanted to see their faces, but there was no way I was turning away from Prince Colin. “Paige, prepare for my coronation. Tomorrow is the ten-year anniversary of the One-Night War, the anniversary of Aecor losing its king and queen. At noon, I will take the crown, and Aecor will have a queen once more.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“No. This is outrageous.” Prince Colin’s neck turned red. “This isn’t how the Wraith Alliance works.”

“Actually, it is.” James grabbed a folder from the center of the council table. “The Wraith Alliance states that if any kingdom and its sovereign should fall to the wraith, wards would be returned to their home kingdoms and be under rule of the rightful king or queen. The rightful Queen of Aecor is Wilhelmina.” He pulled a stack of papers from the folder: the revised Wraith Alliance. “It’s all here, if you’d like to refamiliarize yourself with it.”

Prince Colin snatched the document and skimmed through to the parts concerning wardship. “This is outrageous. I have been ruling Aecor Territory for ten years. I am the overlord—”

“Not anymore.” I made my words hard. “I won’t continue this conversation. If you continue to resist, you will be in violation of the Wraith Alliance, which your king signed in good faith that all his subjects—you included—would obey.”

From the corner of my eyes, I caught amused and amazed looks.

Prince Colin slammed the document on the table just as an explosion sounded in the northwest. Shocks rippled through the ground and floor of the castle.

People shouted, and guards rushed to protect their charges. I raced for the nearest window, ignoring James’s orders for me to find safety, and threw open the shutters to let in a rush of early spring air.

A pillar of deep gray smoke rose above Snowhaven Bridge.

Others weren’t far behind me. They gasped and swore. Someone started to pray.

“James, send rescue teams to the bridge. Everyone we can spare.”

“Right away.” His steps were clipped as he hurried from the
room, calling a handful of others to join him.

“Oh, saints.” Melanie came to stand beside me, and together we watched the plume rise into the pale blue sky. “People are jumping.”

Small, flailing bodies dropped into the water. Even from this distance, we could hear the shrieking of metal as suspension wires loosened and the bridge couldn’t hold itself up. The deck was splitting apart, dripping toward the bay.

“They’re trying to swim to shore.” I leaned on the windowsill. “We need to get those people out of the water before the deck falls in. The suction will drown them. Boats. We need boats.”

I started for the hall to tell James, but Melanie grabbed my arm, pulling me back. “Rescue boats are already on the way. Look.” She turned her attention outside again. “James trained everyone well.”

She was right: a dozen boats sliced through the water.

“Who would do this?” Desiree Symonds pressed a handkerchief to her mouth. “Saints help them.”

“Lien. Of course it was Patrick Lien.” Prince Colin was still in the room, witnessing the whole thing from my father’s chair at the council table. “Who hates the Indigo Kingdom? Who resents their coming here? And who wants Wilhelmina to be queen?”

Melanie shifted her weight toward me. Her fingers grazed mine before she took my hand. “He said he had a plan to keep Indigo Kingdom refugees from crossing into Aecor, once you were safely home. But he didn’t tell me how. Like I said, he was very careful about who knew what, and how much. He didn’t want to have to change his plans if someone was captured.”

I frowned and watched as the first boats reached the bridge.
Heavy cables dangled into the water, and the deck had slid down even farther, but the rescue was in progress. Horseback soldiers and medical wagons approached from the road.

“But I’ve been here over three months. Why would he wait until now?” What had changed between yesterday and today? “Skyvale.”

Melanie nodded. “The city fell, and the Indigo Kingdom is in shambles. It’s the Red Militia’s way of shutting the door on their faces when they need us most.”

“The Red Militia will pay for this.” The former crown prince quit the room, leaving Melanie and me to watch the rescue for several more minutes. The deck finally slid into the water, creating a deep suction. Boats strained against it. People vanished beneath the waves and didn’t surface again.

“All those people.” I pressed my hands to my chest as bodies began washing to shore. Some were alive. Some were not. “Can we repair it? It’s just one section.” One section of an enormous, ancient bridge.

Melanie rubbed her temples. “I’m not sure. Maybe we can do something to get the rest of the refugees across, but it would be temporary.”

“Once the injured are cleared and the dead removed, I want someone to ensure there are people working on the bridge. Get boats to the other side, with ropes and ladders—anything people can use to climb down. Their possessions might have to wait, but at least they’ll have their lives.”

“I’ll assign someone immediately.”

“Good.” I faced my friend and lowered my voice, because beyond her, the rest of the nobles and their guards were staring
out their own windows. “Once you have someone on that, I want you to come with me. We’re going to visit Claire.”

“Do you think she’s responsible?”

“We’re going to find out.”

IT WAS THE
middle of the day when I warned James that Melanie and I were going out. We disguised ourselves as boys, armed ourselves, and headed toward the lowcity.

News of my impending coronation had already spread outside the castle, along with gossip fueled by the bridge explosion. The subjects mixed together like spilled inks, darkening the rumors I’d have to address later.

“The queen will be crowned tomorrow, and her wraith boy collapsed the bridge to trap the Indigo Kingdom people here.”

“No, the Red Militia did it because they don’t want Wilhelmina to be queen.”

“It was those Indigo people. They’re protesting the coronation.”

“But why would they collapse the bridge?”

“I don’t know. . . .”

The rumors swirled on and on as Melanie and I slipped
through the crowds, the hoods of our cloaks drawn low to hide our faces. Midday heat pressed against the city like a solid force, though it was too early in the year for hints of summer.

Maybe it was an effect of the wraith on the way.

I shuddered as Melanie and I made our way to the water-processing factory. At the door, she knocked twice, waited a beat, and knocked three times—our code for Claire that we were about to enter.

She waited in the center of the room, her hands on her hips. “You’re here about the bridge.” There were rarely questions with her, just blunt, straight-to-the-point statements. “I didn’t do it, and I don’t know who did.”

“Will you find out?”

“Why should I?” She strode toward us, her jaw tight and eyes hard. Her steps echoed and the whole place had a sense of emptiness about it. Though we rarely saw many of the others, there were often signs of their presence: whispering, clothing dropped in corners, and packages of food. But now, I sensed only stillness in the factory.

“Where is everyone?” I asked.

“Gone.”

“Working?” Melanie didn’t sound hopeful.

“Maybe.” She gave a one-shouldered shrug and tilt of her head, trying to look casual, but red rimmed her eyes, and the skin underneath was swollen.

I made my voice gentle. “Claire, what happened?”

She shook her head and started to turn, but I grabbed her arm and drew her back. She pulled a knife and held the edge to my neck.

Melanie already had her daggers out, one on Claire’s wrist and the other on her throat. I, too, had snatched a dagger with my free hand, and pressed it against Claire’s stomach.

No one moved.

My heart sped in my throat, and carefully I relaxed my grip on Claire’s arm. “My apologies for grabbing you.”

Claire shook it off as she sheathed her knife. “No harm done.”

“What happened to everyone? Where are they?”

She glared at a wall. “After Patrick was captured, the Red Militia fractured. When I stopped the riots, others began to question what we were doing or where orders were coming from. I could influence, but not control, what actions other sections took.”

I nodded. Those were things we’d already discussed.

“But yesterday, my people began to disappear. Astor, Laura, Darcy. Adrian was here this morning, but I haven’t seen him since the bridge explosion.”

“You think they’ve found someone new to rally around?” Muscles around Melanie’s jaw clenched.

“Not someone new.” Claire locked eyes with Melanie. “Patrick. He’s in control. He has been this entire time.”

“From prison?” I hadn’t been to see Patrick since the day we arrived, but I checked in with his guards frequently. James had selected them himself, so I’d trusted they were loyal to me.

But maybe not.

“The Red Militia is organizing again,” Claire said. “Since your return, Patrick allowed them to run loose, causing chaos and hurting refugees, but nothing too big. Nothing you’d need
to come down on too hard. But now the Indigo Kingdom is gone, and you’re to be crowned queen. The anniversary is tomorrow.”

I glanced at Melanie, and she nodded. Our next stop would be to Patrick’s cell.

“You should return to the castle with us,” I said. “There could be a place for you on the Queen’s Guard.”

“I’m hardly the type to serve.”

“No, you’re the type to fight for a cause.”

“And that cause is you?”

“That cause is our kingdom’s freedom from tyrants and overlords. That cause is food and water and safety for everyone. That cause is acceptance of our abilities while keeping the land clean of wraith.” I shifted my weight to one hip. “I’ve had people working on the water problem. Within a few months, we’ll be able to use this factory to clean water and pump it to the lowcity without using magic.”

Claire released a smile. “Thank you.”

“I promised I’d look for a solution.” I glanced at Melanie. “We have to go.”

Claire gave a small bow. “Tomorrow, after you’re crowned, I’ll be there to swear my fealty and accept the position. I’ll fight for your causes.”

I saluted, a snap and thump. “Until tomorrow, Claire.”

Melanie and I were out the door and halfway back to the castle when she asked, “Are you sure you can trust her? She could be angling for a place closer to you to do more of Patrick’s work.”

“Am I sure? No.” We dodged a cart and group of people selling raw fish. “The Grays can keep an eye on her, but she’s
risked her neck for me for months. I want to trust her. What do you think?”

“She was loyal to Patrick during the fighting, because she believed he’d make things right. If she truly believes you’re on the same path, with less bloodshed, she’ll be loyal to you.”

“Well, then I just have to be sure I don’t fail her.” Or anyone else.

An entire kingdom was counting on me.

Paige walked with us on our way to the prison.

“I’ve been preparing the throne room for tomorrow’s ceremony,” she said. “And the ballroom for the celebratory ball.”

The frivolous ball, but I didn’t say it out loud. It was necessary to keep peace with certain traditions. “What’s your progress?”

“Your mother’s crown has already been removed from the vault and is being cleaned right now.” Paige checked her list. “Oh, and Rosanne Wallace will fit you for the coronation and ball gowns the minute you can stand still.”

“Will she have time to make them?”

“They’re both already finished. They just need alterations. I hear Rosanne started working on the ball gown the day you arrived.” Paige winked. “People have been waiting ten years for this. The anniversary, your coronation, Aecor’s independence once more. Tomorrow will be glorious.”

So much pressure on one day.

“You’re doing a fine job. Let me know if there’s anything else you need.” I left Paige to her work and headed toward the prison with Melanie.

Sergeant Wallace was on duty in the guard room, along with a few other men in blue. They stood and bowed when I entered, and I took the time to meet their eyes and greet them by name.

Was one of these men the traitor? Or someone else?

“I need the visitor logs.” I didn’t move from my position, letting a guard named Jonah Hudson bring the current list to me.

“I’ll fetch the older logs for you.” He went to one of the filing cabinets and began pulling folders.

While I skimmed through the lists of names, looking for anyone who visited frequently or at odd times, Melanie moved around the room, scanning desks and shelves.

“Is there something I can help you find, Your Majesty?” Sergeant Wallace asked. Like the others, he stood at his desk, a hint of anxiety in his eyes and posture. That could be attributed to anything, though: my coronation, the bridge collapse, the fact that I was visiting the prison.

Or it could be guilt.

“No, Sergeant, thank you.”

This uncertainty was awful. I should be able to trust the people under my command. It was one of the lessons Tobiah had been most insistent I learn. And I was
trying
, but if one of these people was a traitor . . .

When Sergeant Hudson brought another handful of folders to me, I flipped through and pulled out the ones dated since Patrick’s incarceration. I gave the remaining folders back to him and turned to Melanie. “Ready?”

She gave a clipped nod, but her eyes spoke differently. Was anyone ever
ready
to interrogate someone like Patrick?

Not just someone like Patrick, but the man she’d been in love
with? The man she’d thought she could redeem?

The man who turned out to be a murderer?

As we entered the cell block, I took her hand in mine. “I’m counting on you. You know him better than anyone.”

“I’ll do my best.” She pulled back to straighten her clothes and run her fingers through her hair. Then we strode down the hall, between the cells holding almost a hundred Red Militia members.

Most of them ignored us, but a few jeered, some called me “Indigo whore,” while others called out that Queen Wilhelmina was here, and everyone should behave. I didn’t look directly at any of them, just kept my head high as Melanie and I made our way to Patrick’s cell at the far end of the hall.

He was sitting, elbows on his knees and hands clasped before him. His short hair had grown a few finger lengths, and stubble covered his chin and throat, but when he looked up, his expression was as hard as ever.

“Wilhelmina.” He didn’t blink as he assessed my appearance. “You should get more sleep. You look exhausted.”

“I’ve been too busy chasing your Red Militia.”

“And after all that work seizing your kingdom for you.” The words were flip, but there was no humor in his tone. “You should show some gratitude.”

“There was an explosion on Snowhaven Bridge earlier. Did you organize that?”

He gestured around his cell. “I’ve been in here, Wilhelmina. Tell me how I could do anything.”

“How are you communicating with the Red Militia?”

Silence.

“The Red Militia is coming together again. What is the purpose?”

Nothing.

“Who is your informant here?”

For an hour, I attacked from different angles, but he’d stopped talking whatsoever, and I had a flash of what it must have been like for James when he’d questioned me about King Terrell’s murder.

Melanie waited at my side, her arms crossed and all her weight to one hip as she studied Patrick’s manner. When I shot her a small, questioning look, she shook her head.

Even to the people who’d once believed they knew Patrick best, he was unreadable.

We pressed for another half hour before I backed off and ushered Melanie down the hall. “He’s useless. Let’s go.”

Her face was tight; he hadn’t even acknowledged her.

Just as we were out of his sight, Patrick cleared his throat.

I held a hand up for Melanie to stay, and then took a single step to see inside his cell.

He’d stood, hands behind his back and shoulders straight, and watched me with the same intense gaze he’d always worn: carefully crafted neutrality. He’d perfected it over the years. “Congratulations, Wilhelmina. You’re really going to be queen tomorrow. It’s just what I always wanted for you.”

My own facade slipped. “How did you hear about that?”

“I hear everything.” His eyes never left mine as a terrible, threatening smile formed. “Be mindful of Colin. No doubt you’ve made a real enemy out of him.”

That was as much as I’d get.

“What do you think?” Melanie asked once we were on our way to my rooms.

I handed the visitor logs to her. “Perhaps we can find our traitor in here.”

“Yes, hopefully our traitor is stupid enough to sign in under their real name.” But she took the folders. Back in my rooms, we ordered dinner.

While we waited, we organized the logs and compared names and frequency of visits. A few people stood out for visiting every week, but were quickly explained. One had a cousin in prison, while another had an uncle. Of course, just because they said they were visiting relatives didn’t mean they weren’t actually visiting Patrick, but surely one of the guards would have noticed.

None of the listings specified they were visiting Patrick.

“Did any of the guards look suspicious to you?”

Melanie finished reading the last page of visitors and shook her head. “I’m the head of your secret intelligence. Everyone looks suspicious to me.” She flashed a smile, but it didn’t diminish the seriousness of her words. “I’d be shocked if it were any of the blues. It’s possible, but unlikely. There are a number of reds who work in the prison, including Sergeant Wallace—”

The parlor door opened and Danie came in with a tray. Her cheeks were flushed. “Pardon,” she whispered, and began to set up our dinner while we hurried to clear space on the table. “Do you need anything else, Your Majesty?”

I started to tell her no, but maybe there was something she could help with. “How much do you know about Sergeant Wallace?”

She blushed again, glancing from me to Melanie and—barely—to the pile of visitor logs on the table. “I haven’t had the courage to talk to him yet, if that’s what you mean.”

“I don’t want to pry into your personal life,” I said. “Just . . . tell me what you know about him.”

Her mouth formed an O as she finally understood the question. “He comes from a good family, Your Majesty. His mother is a magnificent seamstress. I never knew his father, but by all accounts he was a good, loyal man. Sergeant Wallace was gone for a while, first to the wraithland front, and then with the Red Militia. I’m sure it’s been quite difficult for him. Some people think he’s a Red Militia sympathizer, because he’s kind to the prisoners, but I think it shows he has a good heart. He’s loyal to you, Your Majesty. Very loyal.”

“I’m sure he is.” I smiled and reached for my silverware. “Thank you, Danie. That will be all for now.”

She curtsied and left the room.

“You just let her go?” Melanie stared after her, expression like steel. “You know she’s Patrick’s source, right? You picked up on that?”

“Being queen hasn’t made me stupid, Mel.” I grabbed a buttered roll. “I noticed her in the visitor logs, and the way she made sure to throw suspicion on Wallace for being kind to prisoners.”

“They could be working together,” Melanie said.