The Orphan Queen (7 page)

“Yes.” Melanie broke off a piece of bread and chewed. “And that's us.” She tapped the western front.

I marked both locations. “What else?”

“There was a glass building near the office, too. I saw it out the window.”

I'd missed it, but I drew a glass house where she pointed. “The king is ill,” I said, adding outlines of the front gardens and courtyards. A circle and spray for the fountain, an immense staircase, and a scattering of statues: I added everything I remembered.

“Yes. Looks like he has been for a while, but I haven't heard much talk about it. Have you?”

“Nothing.” Which seemed strange, but perhaps his decline had been so gradual no one noticed. Perhaps they thought he was simply growing old.

“This is a good start on the map.”

I corked the ink and wiped the nib clean using a damp cloth. “There's a long way to go, but it's unlikely we'll find palace plans just lying around. We'll take a walk tomorrow and get a better sense of the layout.”

“And then that ball. Perhaps Tobiah will be there.” Melanie smiled slyly as she placed our dishes on a tray. “I saw the way he watched you.”

So I hadn't imagined his look.

He
hadn't
recognized me. He couldn't have. As far as Tobiah knew, Princess Wilhelmina Korte had vanished years ago. It was unlikely he'd ever thought of me since that night. Perhaps he'd thought me familiar and was trying to place me. I'd just have to give him every reason to believe I was only Lady Julianna Whitman, a duchess from a wraith-fallen kingdom.

I wished I could avoid him altogether.

“I'm sure he will be at the ball. Quinn would be so jealous.”

“It's strange that Chey is hosting Meredith's engagement ball,” I said.

“Why? They seem to be friends.”

I laid the mapping pens back in the writing box and found one more suitable for writing letters. “But Chey is only a countess. Maybe Meredith is marrying down and it's embarrassing.”

Melanie snorted. “Regardless, they're our way into society.
Try
to be polite.”

“I'm always polite.”

“You're always eyeing people's valuables. That's hardly polite.”

As evening fell, our discussion moved toward the contents of our first written report to Patrick, and the possible routes we'd take to the bakery, now that we knew our position in the palace.

There wasn't much to write, but we added a few lines about our treatment so far, the upcoming ball, and the king's deteriorating health.

“It seems like a pointless risk to send a report on the first night.” I fanned the paper, giving the ink a moment to dry before I folded it in thirds.

“I agree, but Patrick insists. A report every three days or he storms the palace because he thinks we've been discovered.” Melanie rolled her eyes and dipped a blot of blue wax onto the edge. I pressed my thumb into the cooling blob, sealing the report with my print. Not that it would look any different from Melanie's, but again, Patrick insisted, and I didn't care enough to fight about it.

“I should go the first few times.” Melanie laid her fingertips on the edge of the report. “My absence will be less suspicious if someone comes looking for you.”

My hand was still on the letter. “This is a stupid risk.”

“But you'll let me do it?” She raised an eyebrow.

I released the paper, and as soon as lights began vanishing across the city, she slipped out the window.

The next day, Melanie didn't emerge from her bedroom until noon. So much for taking a walk through the palace to expand our map. “You were out late last night,” I said, not lowering the book I'd been reading.
The Fall of Magic in the Indigo Kingdom
had kept me company most of the morning.

“Just long enough to stick the report behind the loose brick, as ordered. Patrick left a few items for us: spare ropes and hooks, dark clothes, and a few small knives. I've hidden all the things that need hiding.” She sat at the table where lunch had already cooled and began filling her plate with bread and slices of chicken and ham and cheese. “You were sleeping when I got back.”

But I'd waited for two hours before I stepped onto the balcony, worrying that maybe I should go after her. We'd worked in the city countless times, though mostly together. So what could have kept her?

I could still feel the glass chill my palm as I pushed open the balcony door, still feel the frigid wind as I scanned the courtyards and gardens for signs of Melanie.

Just as I was about to climb over the balcony rail and hunt for her, a shadow on a lower balcony stayed me. Someone else had been staring down at the city. With the streetlamps below, the figure was only a silhouette.

But he'd looked up, right at me.

Shivering, I'd lifted my hand. He'd waved back, then leaned his hips on the balcony rail and watched the city.

I'd come inside. Maybe Melanie hadn't been able to get back in because of him, either.

“Did you see someone on another balcony last night?” I asked.

Melanie was chewing, but she shook her head. After an exaggerated swallow, she gulped down some wine and said, “No, everything was quiet. I didn't even see your friend Black Knife.”

“You know you're my only friend.”

“I'm sure you say that to all the Ospreys.”

My grin disappeared when someone knocked on the door. I stood to answer, but Melanie was faster.

Unease smoldered in the back of my thoughts as a maid bustled in, carrying long, paper-wrapped parcels and a wooden box. “Lady Meredith sends her regards, along with these gowns for tonight's ball. We'll have to alter them quickly to fit you,
but we'll make do. Lady Chey ordered a carriage for you; it will arrive with the others this evening.”

“A carriage? Where is the ball?” I pressed my eyebrows together, as though uncertain of being taken from the palace already. Attending a ball seemed like expecting a lot of two young women who'd just been through tragedy, but Melanie and I needed the introduction into society. We'd simply have to work harder to maintain our story.

“It'll be at the Chuter mansion, my lady. The family has a home in Hawksbill, like many lords and ladies. They stay in the palace only rarely, though most keep rooms here.”

This was good. It meant we'd see more of Hawksbill from ground level. Without having to hide or pretend we were maids, like we usually did.

The afternoon passed quickly as we tried on the gowns and held still while the cloth was pinned. A seamstress came in to make quick alterations while the maid busied herself with our hair and cosmetics and jewelry.

At last, the transformation was complete. I wore deep russet and silver, with a silver teardrop pendant hanging just below my collarbone. The maid had pulled my hair back into an intricate braid, revealing rather severe cheekbones, which she softened with rose powder.

When they stepped away and I finally saw myself in the mirror, it showed what I might have been if I'd grown up in Aecor: a princess.

THE CARRIAGES ARRIVED
as the sun slipped into the west, lighting the city's mirrors with orange flame.

Melanie and I waited in the front hall with handfuls of others, everyone clothed in their most elegant attire. Men strode around in their tailcoats, looking impatient. Ladies glanced at mirrors to make last-minute adjustments to their coiled braids or shimmering gowns. Finally, guards hauled open the heavy glass doors and nobles poured outside, into the waiting carriages.

“This one is yours.” A valet led us toward a white carriage at the end of the line, a silver cresting wave painted onto the door: the sigil for House of the Sea.

I tipped up my chin and stepped into the carriage, not bothering with his offered hand. Once Melanie was inside, the door shut and ours followed the other carriages down the palace drive and into Hawksbill.

We drove by columned mansions with intricate reliefs carved into the stone, and long, winding drives bordered by generous gardens and fountains. Roses and ivy hung on iron trellises, and flags bearing house sigils fluttered in the breeze. Dragon. Sea. Unicorn. Sun.

The caravan of carriages turned along the winding streets, and reflected sunlight shone straight through our window, forcing us to close the curtains or go blind. For the moment, we were alone. “We're still reeling from our trek through the wraithland,” I said, even though Melanie didn't need the reminder. The
clip-clop
of horse hooves covered my voice.

Melanie nodded. “But we're trying to fit in like nothing's wrong. We don't want to talk about our experiences. We don't even want to talk about home. We're afraid if we do, we'll show weakness.”

“Perfect. We'll remain the enigmatic beauties of the evening.” I held my face straight for a heartbeat, until Melanie cracked a smile and we both fought off a fit of giggles.

It wasn't a long trip; it'd have been quicker to walk than wait in the carriage line for ours to reach the front door, but walking would have been unseemly. Practicality almost always was.

But when the door opened, the vision of lights was worth the wait.

The Chuter mansion boasted a dozen columns carved from marble, each with a sprinkling of tiny mirrors, which threw off the sun's light. Cold torches waited for dusk, still over an hour away, but the buzzing of crickets already filled the air.

Wind breathed through the surrounding gardens and trees, spurring me to follow the others as they entered the mansion.
The whole place reeked of opulence, and so did Chey's guests. No one stopped to look or admire, like such a display of wealth was an everyday occurrence.

It was for them. Melanie and I were the only ones trying not to gape as we hurried after everyone.

“I didn't see Tobiah,” she muttered as we entered the mansion.

Good. “Maybe he wasn't invited. Or didn't want to come. I heard he refuses to attend most social events.” Warring scents of rose and honeysuckle filled the mansion's front hall, making my head spin.

“The dining hall is through here.” A footman gestured to the left, his tone holding all the enthusiasm of having said those exact words five thousand times tonight; we were among the last to arrive.

One of the house staff led us through the dining hall, resplendent with crystal chandeliers and glossy wood panels along the walls. A string quartet sat in the corner, their music nearly drowned out by the several dozen guests talking.

“Here are your seats.” The footman pulled out two chairs at the lower end of the table, next to a handful of men in military uniforms.

A surge of disgust made my face hot.

I saw soldiers of the Indigo Army every time I came to Skyvale, but I'd never been forced to share a meal with men who might have been there during the One-Night War. With men who might have murdered citizens of Aecor City, high nobility, and my parents.

Focusing on calming breaths, I accepted the cushioned chair and arranged the russet gown over my lap.

“Oh, thank saints.” A young man wearing the uniform of
the Indigo Order offered a wide smile. His hair was short, in the style of most soldiers, but the top buttons of his jacket were undone, as though he hated even that much confinement.

He was too young to have fought in Aecor. Maybe he'd be all right.

“I was afraid I'd be alone with these old men all evening.” He motioned at the four other men surrounding us, who all grumbled good-naturedly. “I'm Lieutenant James Rayner. The old men are Clint, Ethan, Eric, and Bryce. They all have ranks more impressive than mine, so I'll just skip over those, if that's all right with you. I do, however, have the distinction of being Crown Prince Tobiah's principal bodyguard.”

Maybe he wasn't all right, after all.

But the last bit of information snapped him into my memory; he'd been in the king's office yesterday. “I'm pleased to meet all of you. I'm Julianna Whitman. And this is my companion, Melanie Cole.”

“I remember. My most heartfelt condolences for the loss you've both suffered.” James offered a deep nod, almost a bow. “I, too, know the pain of losing someone close.”

Rayner. That was the queen's maiden name, which made James Tobiah's cousin. If I recalled, there was a scandal around James's birth, which was why he carried his mother's name, rather than his mysterious father's. Later on, his mother had married a prominent lord, but he'd died in a fire at the Rayner family home; that must have been the loss James spoke of.

“It seems you've had no trouble securing places in society,” said one of the other soldiers. He looked about the king's age, though he wore the years with more grace. It was entirely
possible he'd been in Aecor ten years ago. Any of the four older men, actually. They all wore medals on their jackets, but I couldn't tell what they represented.

My stomach turned over, but I managed to say, “Thank you.” I wanted to make the tablecloth slither alive and hurl dinnerware at the soldiers. I wanted to instruct forks and knives to—

Melanie reached for my hand under the table, and squeezed. “We're fortunate for Lady Meredith's and Lady Chey's consideration. We don't know anyone here, but we're eager to make friends.”

“I don't think that will be a problem for either of you.” The soldier smiled easily.

“Lady Meredith said this is an engagement ball. Who is her fiancé?” she asked.

Everyone swung his head around, eyebrows lifted and mouth slightly agape. “You don't know?” James looked incredulous.

Melanie paled slightly. “Unfortunately, our invitation came only minutes after we arrived, and we weren't informed of any details.” She shot a glance toward the head of the table, where Lady Meredith sat. “I suppose we'll find out soon, won't we?”

At her easy, palpable charm, the men seemed to relax. “That you will, my lady.”