The Mirror King (Orphan Queen) (17 page)

I SPENT THE
evening pacing in my suite, mind whirling with the thought of war. My kingdom. Tobiah’s kingdom. At arms.

For almost ten years, Patrick and I had been working toward war. And now . . .

Dinner arrived. I ate. And when night fell, I busied myself with my writing desk, arranging papers and pens and other tools, only to find myself unsatisfied and rearrange everything again.

At last, I pulled on my leather and silk, and just as I strapped my sword to my back, a tap came on the balcony door. I pushed aside the curtain.

Black Knife watched me, his head tilted, one gloved palm pressed to the glass. Heart pounding, I lifted a hand and laid it flat against his. Only the cool glass stood between us, and the faint light of my bedroom made me cast a reflection over him.

We stood there a moment, Black Knife and me, and then he
touched the door handle, his movements like a question.

Cold wind gusted when I opened the door and stepped outside.

“I thought you’d like to take a walk.” He strode to the edge of the balcony, looking over the woods.

The rail was solid against my hips as I leaned on it, next to Black Knife. “What happened this afternoon—it’s all I can think about.”

“Me too. And it’s the last thing I want to discuss right now. I want to go back to how it was before, even if it’s just for a few hours.”

His arm was only a hair’s breadth from mine. If I shifted my weight just so, we’d be touching. “I want that, too.”

“I don’t want to talk about the war, or what happened last night, or Meredith, either.” His shoulders hunched as he leaned forward onto the rail. “I know you’ve been spending time with her. That’s probably good.”

“Probably.” I started toward the exterior wall where I could easily rappel down the side of the palace.

“I lied.” Black Knife faced me, his mask hiding his expression. “I want to say one thing. Meredith is a wonderful and kind person. She’s beautiful, smart, generous, and everything a king should want in a queen. But I’ve always felt”—he touched his mask, as though to reassure himself it was there—“a little like a monster. There are parts of me that I hate, and I face them every day. I’m not good enough for her.”

Oh, how I knew that feeling. Easily, I recalled standing in the breezeway, Black Knife saying we were the same, but I hadn’t been able to believe it. He was just so
good
, while I’d spent most
of my life as a criminal. “What about me?” The question was out before I could stop it.

His regard was thoughtful, searching, and a triplet of heavy moments passed between us before his posture shifted. Shoulders down, chest angled away from me: he’d discarded whatever he’d been about to say. “Sorry, nameless girl. I don’t think you’re good enough for her, either.”

“Obviously.” I rolled my eyes, and a few minutes later we were on the ground and racing through the King’s Seat and Hawksbill.

Black Knife and I avoided guard patrols and climbed the Hawksbill wall, both of us scanning the city for a direction.

“Flags?” he asked, crouching low. “Or Greenstone?”

I dropped next to him, scowling at the dark city. After years of getting used to the mirrors, it would never look right without them. “Some of the shelter areas need help. The Nightmare gang was harassing one in White Flag last night. I stopped them, but they’ll be back.”

“Then let’s start there.”

“She isn’t perfect, you know,” I said before he could stand. “No one is perfect, and imagining that she’s an exception is just setting her up to disappoint you.”

“Are you cataloging her faults?”

“No. She
is
all those things you said: kind and generous and smart. But for all those wonderful qualities, she isn’t perfect. She loves King Tobiah. She doesn’t love Black Knife. She couldn’t accept this part of you.”

“I’m not supposed to be Black Knife anyway.”

“But Black Knife is who you are.” I shook my head. “She
might be everything a queen should be . . . for a different king. The way you see her isn’t fair to either of you. She’ll never live up to the image you’ve painted, and you can’t live your life thinking you’re not good enough.”

His breath puffed out his mask.

“You’re not a monster. You never were.”

He stood and offered his hand to help me up. “Let’s go. We have work to do.”

I didn’t take his hand, but I did follow him deeper into the city.

I felt whole. Alive.

Over the next several nights, we hunted glowmen, wraith beasts, thugs, and those who used this strange, transitional time to exploit others. We followed the requests for aid painted onto walls and fences, and located missing friends or family.

It was helping. New shelters sprang up in the Flags and Greenstone, most with reputations of being friendlier toward families than the original ones.

Communities formed, with people cleaning the neighborhood, others guarding, and even more gathering food and caring for their groups.

Even the police seemed more inclined to help the homeless, rather than hunt them. They protected people. The first time we saw it, I looked at Black Knife in shock, and he just smiled beneath his mask.

“I do pay attention to what you say.” He bumped his shoulder against mine and nodded toward a glimmer in the west. “Look there.”

The glimmer resolved into a glass pane hanging on one of the western guard towers. A mirror. A bubble of laughter gathered in my throat and escaped. “You know what they’re going to call you now, right?”

“What?”

I shook my head and jumped to another roof. It was time to find our next request for help. “You’re a smart boy. You’ll figure it out.”

He leapt after me, silent and graceful with every movement. “Just tell me.”

“Come on, Black Knife. Your people need us.”

Today was a historic day.

The air in the throne room was sharp with anticipation and uncertainty. Nobility from all over the kingdom crowded in, though not as tightly as on the evening of the coronation, or the king’s first audience. Also in attendance were the foreign royalty and dignitaries who’d traveled here for the memorial and coronation.

A hush fell as Tobiah strode down the aisle and stopped before a large table set in front of the thrones. His gaze swept over the paper, ink, and pens before he turned to address the assembly.

“There have been several more reports of the Red Militia’s movement across Aecor,” said King Tobiah. “It’s only a matter of time before Lien marches on Aecor City, so the Indigo Army is mobilizing troops.”

Soon the Indigo Army would march on Aecor City again. The image made me shudder.

“Because of this,” Tobiah said, “we are being forced to move ahead on several items sooner than expected. The first of these is, of course, the Wraith Alliance.” He motioned me forward, along with the dignitaries from Laurel-by-the-Sea and the other nearby kingdoms not yet flooded with wraith.

We approached the table, dressed in our best as though we were going to do something grander than sign a piece of paper. My silk gown was vermilion with gold embroidery along the hems. It was a beautiful creation that looked like dripping blood when hanging in my wardrobe.

I stood at the end of the line, next to the king from Laurel-by-the-Sea. When I faced the audience, lines of people stared back at me. There were the friendly faces of my Ospreys, who’d worked so hard to ensure we hadn’t missed anything. There was Meredith, tucked in with her group of friends. Chey didn’t look angry at me, for once.

Tobiah raised his voice. “Today, a hundred years after the first Wraith Alliance was signed in this very room, we are gathered to sign the agreement once more. The absence of those we’ve lost is keenly felt, and it is for them, and those who come after us, that the Wraith Alliance has been revised in order to begin a new effort to stop the wraith.”

Polite applause sounded through the room, but frowns deepened.

“For a century, we have believed that ceasing all magic use would put a stop to the wraith. For a century, we have been proven wrong. New findings show us that there may be a better way of protecting our kingdoms, and in light of that, the treaty will be revised to allow the use of magic in highly regulated
experiments to halt the wraith’s approach.”

So many people gasped at once, it was a miracle there was any air left in the room.

“While this will likely be the most criticized revision, it means two things: a plan to prevent the wraith from further inundating the kingdom is already in effect, and magic users are invited to join in our effort.”

I doubted many flashers would walk up to the palace and offer their services, but at least they’d no longer be sent to the wraithland as punishment for having magic. What
would
happen to people illegally using magic—that was still under debate, but it wasn’t part of the Wraith Alliance, so we’d moved on.

“Previously, allies were obligated to shelter only nobility from wraith-fallen kingdoms, leaving thousands of people to suffer in refugee camps, or worse.”

Like being forced to remain in the wraithland.

“Under the revised Wraith Alliance, allied kingdoms guarantee entry into their lands to all citizens of wraith-fallen kingdoms. Our world is so small now. We must
protect
those who survive.”

That brought a more enthusiastic applause.

“Finally,” he said, “the exchange of information regarding the wraith will remain the same. Allied kingdoms will continue sharing, though emissaries will be sent into all kingdoms to ensure there are no omissions.”

For example, an entire kingdom’s worth of flashers pouring their magic into a barrier.

I hadn’t cared as much about that point, but when representatives from other kingdoms heard what happened with Liadia,
the debate had lasted hours.

With the revised points out of the way, Tobiah gestured toward the audience. “You, my friends, are here today to witness this historic moment. Today, the new Wraith Alliance is born.”

He inked a pen and signed the bottom of the paper. The next man signed, and then the next.

When at last I stood in front of the document, the signatures of those before me already drying, I took the pen and drew a breath. I had no right to sign this. But I’d sworn I’d add my name, and so I would.

But first: “While I’m not yet Queen of Aecor, I sign the Wraith Alliance as a promise. For a century, my ancestors refused this agreement, a stance which has been a source of contention between Aecor and its neighbors. But today, I let go of the past. If there is to be a better world, we must forge it now. Today, I look toward the future.”

Light flared out the windows, chased by a long roll of thunder and the slap of rain on glass and stone. But the sound didn’t fade. When I blinked, I realized it wasn’t only thunder I’d heard, but the din of clapping, and cheering from the Ospreys—and even Meredith.

I’d expected surprise, maybe apathy, but never approval. Not like this.
Everyone
was clapping, both familiar faces and unfamiliar, as if they’d momentarily forgotten all the things I’d done.

Maybe this was as big for them as it was for me: a hundred years of unease was behind us. Signing the Wraith Alliance wasn’t going to
fix
problems, but it was a start.

One face stood out from the others. Prince Colin was
smiling, but it was the curled smile of calculating his next move. If I signed this, he’d retaliate.

If I didn’t sign it, I wasn’t the queen my people needed.

I dipped my pen into the heavy black ink, and hesitated only a moment as I put together my signature in my mind. I’d practiced it since that day in James’s office, but this wasn’t practice. This was real.

I signed:
Wilhelmina Korte, Princess of Aecor
.

The applause lasted while I cleaned the nib and set aside the pen to join the others who’d signed.

As Tobiah took the center again, he sent a faint nod my way, and waited until the cheers died. “Today is indeed monumental. I only wish we could celebrate this signing properly.”

I bit my tongue to contain a snort. That was a lie if I’d ever heard one. Tobiah was
notorious
for skipping social gatherings.

“There is one more event I’m pleased to say has been moved up.” He lifted a hand toward Meredith. She glided forward, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “It’s important to both Lady Meredith and me that all our guests join us on our wedding day. While we considered keeping our original date of the winter solstice, we know the uncertain climate here must make everyone eager to return home.

“As such, my fiancée and I have decided to move forward our wedding. The ceremony will be held in the palace chapel in two days, and will be immediately followed by Lady Meredith’s coronation. In two days, the Indigo Kingdom will have its new queen.”

I HAD TO
stop going to the throne room. Every time I did, Tobiah delivered bad news.

Though to be fair, the war situation was probably worse than the wedding being moved up.

But that evening, and the following, I went out earlier than usual so he wouldn’t find me; the last thing I wanted was a couple of awkward nights of vigilantism, both of us avoiding saying what we were thinking. I needed time alone. And finally, as I dispatched the final glowman of the night and started toward the palace again, I knew what I had to do.

I had to go home.

The Wraith Alliance was signed, the barrier facility was under way, and mirrors gleamed along the western reaches of Skyvale. I’d done what I could here, and now it was time to find Patrick and stop him from destroying my kingdom with this war.

The decision soothed me as I sneaked back through Hawksbill. It didn’t matter that what was coming would be incredibly difficult, or that I’d be fighting friends I’d trusted for years. What mattered was that I had a goal, even if I had to ride into Aecor, hunt down the Red Militia, and arrest Patrick myself.

Without thinking, I’d taken the usual route into the King’s Seat, so I wasn’t surprised when a black-jacketed figure peeled from the darkness around a statue of Terrell the First. “Avoiding me?” asked the shadow.

“Avoiding everyone.”

“I see.” His gaze stayed steady on mine. “Tonight was my last night.”

Because tomorrow he’d be married. “I know.” I hadn’t thought about it, maybe, but of course it had to be over for him.

He started walking the path we normally took, motioning for me to follow. A few minutes later, we reached one of the outbuildings behind the palace.

“James and I used to practice in here,” he said. “Before you came. Then we spent most of our free time trying to figure out why you and Melanie were impersonating Liadian nobility.”

He closed the door and turned on the light, revealing a wide, empty floor of dusty hardwood. Crates had been shoved against the walls, while shelves sagged with molding table linens, place settings, and old lighting fixtures.

“This was a storage building until we took over.” He tore off his mask and scowled around the room. “It still is, I guess.”

I took off my mask, too. “This is the kind of place where the Ospreys trained. You were a prince. Wasn’t there somewhere nicer? Actual practice rooms?”

“Sure,” he said. “But there were always people watching me. Not just our trainers, but nobility, too. It was alarming how much they wanted to see whether James and I would cut each other, or watch our teachers smack us with the flat of their blades when our performance was unsatisfactory.” He swept his hand around the room. “I needed this place where I could really practice, because in public, I had to give the illusion of being a mediocre swordsman.”

Tobiah’s past floated on the dust motes around us. If I closed my eyes, maybe I’d be able to hear echoes of his sword crashing against James’s.

“You should use this room,” he said, “unless you’re planning on giving up this nocturnal habit.”

“I still need it,” I whispered, and drew my sword. The blade was clean, but the steel was melted and lumpy on one edge.

“That poor blade. Do you even feel bad?” He eyed it with a look of feigned disappointment.

“I blame the snake-lizard. And maybe this other person who called himself Black Knife. He promised lessons and never delivered, so I’ve had to use the one trick I know.”

“And that is?”

“Putting the appropriate end in my opponent every time.”

Tobiah drew his sword and allowed the light to glint off the flat of his blade. “Maybe he can make it up to you now.”

“Don’t be silly. You’re not Black Knife. Everyone knows Princess Wilhelmina is that awful vigilante.”

He lunged to attack; I lifted my blade to block. “Everyone doesn’t know that. A lot of the city people believe you are”—his blade slid off mine with a
shing
—“but there’s quite the rumor
spreading that while Wilhelmina was in the wraithland, Black Knife was still in Skyvale.”

“Outrageous! Untrue!” I twisted my sword down for a slice across his flank, but he pulled away.

“I’ve heard Black Knife isn’t as good as he used to be.” Tobiah aimed for my chest, forcing me back a step as I hurried to block. There was no time to flick my little finger at him, because he thrust toward my stomach; I dodged.

We traded blows, attacking and blocking slowly as we warmed up. The sound of our blades clashing filled the room.

“I really was looking for you tonight,” he said between blows. “Patrick and the Red Militia—have taken Aecor City. Sandcliff Castle is his.”

His.

No, Sandcliff Castle was meant to be mine. Gritting my teeth, I attacked Tobiah’s side, breaking our rhythm. “What happens now?”

He blocked the stroke with ease. “My uncle rides for Aecor in three days.”

“With an army?” I attacked his chest, but he parried and moved inside my guard.

“With an army.” The point of his blade rested at my throat, and neither of us moved. “It’s not ideal, but it’s the decision I have to make as king, and the action he has to take as overlord.”

“And what action do you suggest I take as the rightful heir to the vermilion throne?”

“I know what you are.
Everyone
knows.” He lowered his sword and stepped close, so we were only a breath apart. “But the Indigo Kingdom conquered Aecor during the One-Night
War. It belongs to me, and to my uncle, and as much as I want you to have your kingdom, we both must wait.”

“Until when? Until the barrier is built? Until the wraith has flooded the Indigo Valley? Until there’s nowhere to go but Aecor? I imagine my kingdom will be very useful to you
then
.” I clenched my jaw.

His tone softened. “You know that’s not how our Wraith Alliance works.”

“Then when?” I asked.

“When we are all ready.”

“Your uncle will only relinquish the title of overlord when he’s acquired the one he truly wants.” The memory of our conversation at the coronation ball made me shudder.

“Did something happen?” He searched my eyes and read the truth. “He said something to you?”

“He doesn’t need Aecor if he has the Indigo Kingdom, does he?” My grip on my sword tightened. “Not that he’d ever give up Aecor. If the barrier doesn’t work, Aecor is too valuable.”

“
What
did he say?”

“He offered Aecor for the truth of your recovery. To malign you.”

In the long pause that followed, I waited for him to ask whether I’d taken the deal, but he just shook his head. “Then perhaps it’s best he’s going away.”

Perhaps this was a bad time to tell him I was going away, too.

Tobiah sheathed his sword and rubbed his temples. “I wish you’d trusted me enough to tell me.”

“I told you I was going to ignore him.”

“That’s not trust, Wilhelmina.” He took a long breath. “If you think that trusting someone—allowing them to help you by performing their own duties honorably—somehow makes you
less
, then it might be time to reexamine yourself. Start asking why
you
need to do everything. How can you really be close to someone if you never let them in?”

“Forgive me if I find that difficult.” My hand ached from gripping my sword hilt. “It isn’t
easy
to trust or be close to someone when the person I love won’t even follow his own heart.”

Oh, saints. I’d said that out loud. And now the words hung between us, heavier than the dust motes of his past.

His expression stiffened into that proud, bored mask he’d worn as a prince, and he spun and strode toward the door.

For a stuttering heartbeat, I almost let him go.

But I took a step after him, and my fingertips brushed his sleeve. We both stopped moving. “I want to trust you. It’s just that everyone I’ve ever trusted has betrayed me in some way. Even”—not
you
—“Black Knife.”

He faced me, hair half hanging in his eyes, shadowing them. All the fire of his argument had drained away, and now he was just a boy who happened to be a king before he was ready.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I hadn’t thought about it like that. It wasn’t fair of me to judge you.” He glanced at my hand still on his sleeve, and I jerked away. “I suppose I’m not as deserving of your trust as I thought.”

Trust me. Forgive me. Tell me
. How could he ask so much?

“I want to trust you.”

“I want to deserve it.” He shifted his weight toward me and drew his sword, letting a beam of light glance off the flat of the
blade. “We have to work together. I know we can. That’s why you’re wearing those clothes. And why I’m still alive. We have the same goals, and if we work together, we can achieve them. Imagine what could happen if we stopped fighting each other and started fighting our enemies. You and me together.”

My stomach flip-flopped. His sword loose in his grasp was such a familiar sight, the stance and grip and confidence. Only now, his face was uncovered and he was a king, and he’d be married in a few hours. He’d never be Black Knife again.

He sheathed his sword and sighed. “I know I promised a lesson, and kings should always keep their promises. But I don’t think it would be appropriate . . .” His throat jumped when he swallowed. “Perhaps James would be a more suitable replacement.”

My heart squeezed, but I pushed down the anguish and resentment and forced a note of aloofness into my voice. “I’m sure he would be.”

His hand strayed near mine. “Wilhelmina, I
am
sorry.”

I stepped backward. “You made a promise to your father. I know.” I withdrew farther, deeper into the storage building. “I’m sure you have a lot to do to prepare for your wedding. Please don’t let me take up any more of your time.”

He drew himself straighter and vanished behind his kingly mask. “Good night, Wilhelmina.”

When he was gone, the door secured behind him, I swung my sword around and caught a pile of folded tablecloths. Linen and lace flew into the air as I grabbed tarnished silver candlesticks and hurled them across the room. A pile of plates, a box of wineglasses, a huge serving platter: they all clattered and
smashed against the far side of the floor.

A high keening tore from my throat as I ripped more and more
junk
off the shelves and from crates. I pushed over shelves and threw boxes across the room, filling the floor with everything that had been shoved aside.

My arms and legs were shaking by the time I was finished. The room was in ruins, with broken trash strewn across the now-dented floor. Tablecloths lay like shrouds.

“It helps, doesn’t it? Breaking things.” The wraith boy stood across the room, dark brown hair shading his eyes as he surveyed the wreckage. His skin was brown, and his features knifelike. It seemed his appearance had settled, and he looked too much like me for comfort.

How had he escaped his closet?

“Go away.” My voice was hoarse from screaming.

“A man came to my door last night. He told me you’re sad. Sad. Bad. Mad. How—”

“Leave!”
I hurled a splintering crate at him. “Leave me alone.”

“Very well.” He sidestepped the crate and bowed low, his tattered clothes fluttering. “What you want is the only thing that matters.”

Then he vanished, leaving nothing but the odor of wraith and the awful feeling that he’d known I was upset, and had come to help.

Wraith help. That was one thing I didn’t need.