The Orphan Queen (12 page)

James returned to the corner where he'd been standing, but
his eyes, filled with concern, stayed on me. As though I needed his protection.

Tobiah took his seat and slid a pile of papers across the table to me. “I thought you might like to study these. In addition to statistics and reports from West Pass Watch, they detail the different ways members of the Wraith Alliance have attempted to mitigate or halt the wraith, as well as the varying levels of success reached.”

None of the attempts had been truly successful, though. Like Liadia, some countries held off the wraith for a few months or a year, but eventually, it broke through. “I appreciate this, Your Highness.”

“What can you tell us of your time in the wraithland?” Fredrick's tone turned patronizing. “If discussing it won't be too difficult.”

Clint cleared his throat. “We do realize you've only just escaped. The horrors you must have endured would mark anyone. But we learn so much every time we speak to a survivor. If it weren't so dangerous, we'd send more teams to study it. That you survived something that many trained men haven't—that speaks very highly of you.”

It was nice of him to try to stick up for me, but I'd already made myself look weak. I'd have to rectify that.

Everyone listened, taking notes as I described the same events I had for King Terrell and Prince Tobiah my first day here. I kept my voice strong, letting it slip only when I spoke of the harrowing escape from my home—Julianna's home—and nights in the wilderness with beasts prowling all around us. I needed my performance to be realistic and inspiring.

“We've heard reports of violent storms,” Tobiah said. “Did you notice an increase in activity after the wraith came through?”

I nodded. It was better to confirm these things. Everyone knew the wraith was terrible, and that it was coming. I didn't want to give them a reason to underestimate it. “Before it arrived, summers steadily grew hotter, and winters colder. I'm sure you've noticed the same changes here. When the wraith hit the barrier and halted, we didn't notice a drastic change, but when the barrier collapsed, the night immediately grew hotter.” I laced my fingers together and allowed my expression to harden, like armor against memories. “I couldn't sleep much during the journey here. The howling. And it was so, so hot. But it snowed sometimes, too. Flakes as big as your hands. They melted as they hit the ground.”

That was one of the more uncommon rumors about the wraithland, but I'd heard it from a few different groups of refugees. It was legitimate enough for me.

They asked about other phenomena in the wraithland, questioning the same details multiple times from different angles. Each time I gave the same answers, biting back frustration over the repetition. They were only trying to be thorough, to coax out details I might not be aware I'd overlooked. Their questioning would have been more useful if I'd actually been to the wraithland.

At last, they were satisfied I knew nothing more.

I sipped the wine someone had set in front of me, then leafed through the papers from Tobiah. “The wraith began after centuries of industrialized magic, correct?” That was what my parents
had taught me, and what I'd taught the younger Ospreys when it came time for them to learn.

“That's the theory,” Clint said. “The overuse of magic triggered a cataclysmic reaction we haven't been able to reverse.”

“But it has slowed,” Tobiah added. “If you put out the fire, it stops producing smoke. Maybe not immediately, but given time . . .”

“Hasn't magic use ceased, though? The Wraith Alliance has been in effect for a hundred years, after all.” I pushed away the memory of my hand pressed against an old crate, magic on my lips as I bade it awaken. Any wraith created would have been minuscule.

Tobiah shook his head and gazed out the window for a moment. “When I was younger, I met a girl who told me that it was safe to use magic for emergencies.”

Me. He meant me.

“She'd grown up in Aecor, where people used to believe it was only great amounts of magic that contributed to the wraith problem. I was young, about eight, and curious. I became obsessed with learning all I could about wraith. I spent hours in the library, studying. Over the next few years, I met with every expert on magic and wraith in the kingdom, but they all said the same thing:
all
magic contributes to the wraith problem, even a little bit. And they all agree that magic is still being used. Today. Now.” He glanced at the men around the table, who nodded. Then, to me: “Ten years ago, Aecor was an independent kingdom in the east, not just a territory of the Indigo Kingdom.”

I held my breath.

“It wasn't part of the Wraith Alliance. Then, though people were cautioned to use only small amounts, most didn't listen. There were no consequences, so they used what they wanted.”

No, that wasn't what I'd been taught. That wasn't what I'd
done
.

“With Aecorians using magic as they wished, the wraith approached quickly. But since we conquered Aecor, the laws there have changed. Magic is forbidden, just as it is everywhere else.” Tobiah glanced at his uncle, the shadow of a frown flashing across his face. “And the wraith has slowed its approach. It has measurably slowed.”

My voice was hoarse. “This fact is confirmed?”

Everyone at the table nodded.

“That's why the Indigo Kingdom is doing better than it has in almost a century,” said Colin. “There's hope that the wraith will stop. The economy is stabilizing. There's less violence.”

If there was hope, I hadn't seen it. The Skyvale I'd always known was dirty, hungry, and flooded with refugees. And that didn't seem to be changing.

“How are you measuring its movement?” I asked.

Clint rose and revealed a large wall map of unfamiliar landscape, with hashes of colored ink in bands across the plains. “Here. Once a month, we send a rider to place a marker at the edge of the wraithland. We track its progress on maps like this.”

Ah, now I recognized the land. There was the Indigo Kingdom's western reaches—West Pass Watch—and Liadia and other fallen kingdoms covering most of the paper. The bands of hashes were twelve different colors, one for every month of the year, presumably. “The bands get narrower.”

The captain tapped the map. “Because the wraith's progress has slowed. It doesn't cover as much new ground every month as it did previously.”

I dragged my gaze over the colored ink. There were small scribbles on the northwestern end of Liadia, hard to read from this distance. “What's that in Liadia?”

“Unfounded rumors.” Clint returned to his seat. “Nothing you need to worry about, Your Grace.”

The crown prince glared at the map a moment longer before he continued his earlier lecture, as though I'd never interrupted. “There are pockets of magic use in Skyvale and the rest of the Indigo Kingdom. They're why the wraith magic still creeps toward us. They're why it hasn't halted its approach. But if those pockets were stopped—well, smoke eventually dissipates.”

“Dissipates, yes, but that doesn't mean it's vanished. Like magic, it cannot be destroyed.”

He regarded me with a carefully neutral expression. “That is true. However, we have no reason to believe the wraith won't settle or ease, and the world will be safe to live in again. The fact remains that magic use will only draw the wraith closer until the Indigo Kingdom
is
the wraithland.”

Could that be true? It seemed unlikely wraith would ever just
go away
, but could halting all magic really allow the wraith to settle enough so the world became livable? It was hard to believe there was anything but darkness in our future.

“Not everyone with magic will want to stop using it,” I said, and the others nodded agreement.

Some people
couldn't
stop. Though it sometimes took all my
will to avoid using my power selfishly, there were others compelled to use their abilities selflessly—to help and heal. Surely, healing couldn't be wrong.

“That's why they're arrested when they're caught,” said Clint. “Because they won't stop.”

My voice came as thin as silk. “What happens to them?”

Silence fluttered through the room.

“They're dealt with.” General Adam Goldberg's voice was gruff. “Let's move on.”

I drew a shaky breath. “Beyond putting a stop to magic use, what is being done to combat the wraith? General”—I turned to Fredrick—“you said you have men at West Pass Watch and all along the western border.”

He nodded. “Brave men from all over the Indigo Kingdom.”

“Supplemented,” added Colin Pierce, “with draftees from Aecor Territory.”

My mouth went dry. Patrick had been right. “They're taken against their will?”

If my question offended him, Colin didn't show it. “Aecor was responsible for so much wraith. If they'd joined the Wraith Alliance when it formed one hundred years ago, Liadia might still be here.”

I couldn't speak. Lady Julianna wouldn't be able to, either. But for such different reasons.

My fingernails dug into the seat of my chair, aching.

“We're giving Aecorians a chance to redeem themselves. We're giving them a chance to help keep the Indigo Kingdom—and Aecor, of course—safe.”

Dizziness pressed inside my head. Hearing the horrifying
rumor confirmed made me sick. My people. Thrown onto the front lines to be slaughtered.

“My lady?”

I held up a hand, but couldn't speak. Angry tears crowded my throat, and I had to look down before someone saw them threatening in my eyes.

The prince stood. “We'll adjourn until next week. I'm certain by then Lady Julianna will feel more able to withstand these talks.”

There was grumbling, but a few minutes later, the generals, Colin, and Clint filed out of the room; the last paused just before laying his hand on my shoulder, like he thought better of it at the last moment.

Finally, the room was empty, except for the prince, his bodyguard, and me.

Tobiah didn't move from his place. His tone was hard and unimpressed. “I invited you here because I believed you could handle the discussion.”

I mustered my voice, because I had to give some kind of excuse for my reaction. “It will never be safe.” The words came roughly. “Not the Indigo Kingdom. Not Aecor. Liadia has already shown that kind of faith to be a lie.”

Tobiah and James exchanged a look, and finally Tobiah said, “I know how difficult it can be to move beyond traumatic points in your life.”

“Not everyone has the luxury of being able to move beyond them,” I rasped.

“When I was younger,” said the prince, “something happened to me.”

Oh yes. I knew. But Tobiah had had a family to return home to. He'd lost nothing beyond his innocence of what people could do to one another, and that innocence had only fallen away on the ledge with me while we watched
his
people massacre mine.

“It isn't something I speak of often, but it left a mark. I don't know that we ever fully move past that kind of trauma.”

I pushed myself up, palms flat against the table. “I think I should retire to my quarters for now.”

The prince gave a curt nod, and James stepped away from the wall. Both of them watched me, one annoyed, and one wary. “Shall I escort you back?” Tobiah asked, making it clear that he didn't want to.

“I can make it on my own.” I gave a small curtsy and gathered up the papers he'd given me earlier. On my way out, I glanced again at the wall map, and the mysterious scribbles on the western border of Liadia.

They read
confidential
and
debated
.

What did
that
mean?

HALFWAY BACK TO
my rooms, my head still full of
confidential
and
debated
, I ran into Lady Chey.

She was as resplendent as ever in a yellow gown, a fashionable split down the middle of the top layer and an intricately embroidered pattern at the bottom. With a quick curtsy, she said, “Oh, Lady Julianna! I hope you were on your way to the ladies' solar. We were all gathering for needlework.”

“How kind of you to invite me. But I'm afraid I don't have anything to work on.” The very last thing I wanted to do was join Chey and all her friends for
needlework
.

Chey shook her head and tutted. “Don't be silly. We'll find something for you.”

Before I could escape, she'd hooked her arm around mine and begun guiding me through the palace. Mirrors flashed in the edges of my vision, lit by sunlight streaming through windows.

Chey was a fountain of chatter as we walked, listing
upcoming celebrations and balls she was excited to attend, and what she would wear to each of them. “There are several plays coming to the Saint Shumway Theater. You should try to attend a few.” At last, she paused to breathe. “Here we are.”

We were not far from the Dragon Wing, where the royal apartments were held. I could see nothing of them, however: just a pair of guards and a long, empty hallway beyond.

Chey pulled open the door to the ladies' solar, revealing a chamber occupied by a dozen women seated in large chairs with sewing baskets beside them. The walls were covered in brocade silk, and hissing gas lamps lit the room with a cheery glow. But at my entrance, every face turned toward me and became cool, guarded.

Second time in one day. My skill at ruining moods was truly incomparable.

Lady Meredith set aside her needlework and rose. “Julianna. Welcome.” Her smile measured equal parts suspicion and genuine pleasure. She smoothed her palms along her sky blue day dress, embroidered with gold filigree around the hems. The gold matched her hair, all coiled braids and artfully arranged tendrils.

I offered a pale curtsy. “Thank you for your invitation, my lady. I'm afraid I haven't anything to work on, though.”