The Mirror King (Orphan Queen) (13 page)

AN ICY BREEZE
fluttered through my bedroom as the clock tower struck four.

Darkness moved on darkness, and I was out of bed with my daggers drawn, every piece of my body groaning in protest. “Announce yourself or I’ll kill you.”

“I’m sorry.” It was Black Knife. The prince. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Everything startled me now, but I didn’t want to tell him so. I just sheathed my daggers and dragged a blanket from the bed to wrap around my shoulders like a cape. My nightgown afforded little in the way of modesty. “I should be apologizing to you.”

In the far corner of the room, the prince was a motionless black shape. Only the glint of moonlight on polished leather boots and the slither of silk on silk gave him away. He’d dressed
as Black Knife to come sneaking over the rooftop, just as I’d done. My heart squeezed.

“But I don’t think there’s any way to properly convey my regrets.” I glanced toward the light switch, but this was better in the dark. It was easier to think of him as Black Knife and not the prince. “I’m afraid of the wraith boy. I don’t know what he is, or how to stop him, and I’m terrified of what he’ll do next.”

Black Knife crossed the room, a shifting heat and presence. A gloved palm cupped my cheek, hesitantly. “I don’t blame you for what happened.”

“You’re the only one.” It took everything in me not to lean into his touch; he was warm and solid, and like this he was my friend. But he was also Tobiah, and meant for someone else. I pulled back, and he let his hand drop to his side. “What about the memorial?” I asked. “Will it affect your ability to take the throne tomorrow?”

“I had the memorial completed in the palace chapel last night. It was small. Private.”

“That’s for the best.”

“There was no choice. My enemies would have protested my enthronement otherwise.”

Another apology sat on my tongue, but I couldn’t make it emerge. I’d almost cost Tobiah his crown. “Do you have many enemies?”

“Everyone here has their share. Worry about yours, not mine.” He spoke kindly, though he shifted away from me. “Tell me why you want a mitigation committee meeting called.”

I pulled my blanket tighter around my shoulders. “The
wraith boy thinks we have no time at all before the wraith floods the Indigo Kingdom, and because right now, after the Inundation and the cathedral collapse, the committee will need to listen and explore every option available.”

“Then let’s do this right. List every point you want to discuss. Give me warning so that I can help.” He sounded like the prince, but nothing could break the spell of this boy in those clothes. The way he moved, and the way he wanted to do what was right: those were qualities I’d grown to admire in Black Knife. “I think you’d go rushing into this with your convictions and good intentions, but one of the more difficult lessons I’ve learned about politics is patience, and planning, and knowing that no matter how good you are at both of those, there’s always someone who’s better and willing to go further. Unfortunately, my uncle is very good at it.”

“I don’t need to be rescued from Prince Colin—”

“I’m not trying to rescue you, but I am trying to help you succeed. There’s a difference.” He moved to the balcony window. “You have a hundred enemies, Wilhelmina. Thanks to your magic, the wraith boy, your various identities, and your connection with Patrick Lien, there’s a lot going against you.”

Did I have anything going
for
me?

“Let me help you, Wil. You don’t have to do this alone.” With that, he was out the window, a black blur on the balcony, and then gone.

He was right. I did need to plan the committee meeting, just as I’d have planned anything with the Ospreys. I needed to understand what actions would get me the results I wanted, take
all variables into consideration, plan for possible counteractions. I needed to strategize.

Perhaps politics was not so different from revolution after all.

By design, I was last to the meeting.

Theresa was at my heels, still looking like a refugee who’d stolen a noblewoman’s burgundy gown. No matter how she lifted her chin and straightened her shoulders, she never quite managed the mask of confidence she needed. But she’d been in the palace only a few days, and already everything had gone wrong.

Having Theresa here wasn’t the same as having Melanie, but it was better than being alone.

Sergeant Ferris opened the committee chamber door, and when I strode inside, the buzz of conversation fell away. Every face turned toward me, most with crafted neutrality, others with open dislike.

Theresa paused just behind my shoulder, and Sergeant Ferris let the door fall shut as he took his place with the legion of bodyguards along the wall.

“Your Highness. Welcome.” Tobiah offered a small, polite bow from where he stood at the head of the table. He was the prince today, with that dry, dull tone I’d disliked so much, but now that I knew to look for it, I could see the fraying seams of that mask. In his eyes, in the jump in his throat, and even in the way his frown softened when our eyes met. “Lady Theresa, please take a seat.”

“What is the meaning of this?” Prince Colin pushed himself up, leaning heavily on the table. “What are
those
two doing
here? It’s one thing for the queen regent and your fiancée to join us, but them? Aecorian thieves?”

There were a few muffled agreements around the table, coming from behind fist-covered mouths and down-drooped mustaches. I knew Captain Chuter, Generals Frederick and Adam Goldberg, Francesca, and Meredith, of course, but there were several new faces.

“This
is
most irregular,” offered one of the strangers. “What with His Highness’s coronation this evening. There’s so much to do today. . . .”

Tobiah stood with his hands behind his back and addressed his council. “Princess Wilhelmina is the reason we’re here today. I called this meeting on Her Highness’s behalf.”

“What an outrage!” Prince Colin strode around the table, toward Tobiah. “Her participation was not appropriate when she was masquerading as Duchess Julianna of Liadia, and it is even less appropriate now.”

“I believe,” I said, “this is Crown Prince Tobiah’s committee. It is for him to decide whose presence is appropriate.”

Someone in the back gasped. Meredith’s eyes were wide and bright, while Theresa smirked. Even Queen Francesca looked pleased.

Tobiah stood straighter and glared back at his uncle. “When Her Highness was here as Julianna, I acquiesced to the demands that she be excluded from the meetings. I did not know who she was, or whether anything she said about the wraithland was true. But now we do know her identity, and I do know that she has been to the wraithland.” He glanced at me and nodded.

I pulled a pair of Liadian barrier scales from a pouch at my
hip, and tossed them onto the center of the table. Everyone in the room gasped.

“As for the coronation this evening, you’re correct, Lord Craft. This is irregular, but important. And since we all have a lot to do today, I suggest everyone sit down and listen to what Princess Wilhelmina has to say.” His gaze cut around the room. “If anyone is opposed to listening to Her Highness speak, they can leave now.”

No one moved, except Prince Colin, who went back to his seat, and gradually, my heart migrated out of my throat and back to my chest. This boy was meant to be king.

“Very good.” Tobiah moved to help Theresa into her chair near Francesca and Meredith. The queen regent offered a delicate nod, while Meredith touched Theresa’s arm in a comforting gesture.

Theresa relaxed, and gratitude filled me. After everything, Meredith still treated us with kindness.

Tobiah guided me to the head of the table. “I’ll make quick introductions to the members you haven’t met, and then we’ll begin.”

I nodded.

“Lord John Price, House of the Sun; Lord Samuel Craft, House of the Unicorn; and Count Alexander Davis, House of the Sea. They are the official representatives of the other three Houses. My uncle is here as the representative of Dragon.”

Ah. Now that he’d said their names, I recognized them by reputation. They were all minor lords, no one important.

Tobiah turned toward me. “Let’s begin with your time in the wraithland.”

“Can we surmise this will be a different tale than the last we heard?” Clint’s words were harsh, but his tone was not cruel.

“Quite.” I pulled out my notes, each point written in a different hand and color of ink to help organize my thoughts. “There are a number of topics I’d like to discuss, beginning with my journey to the wraithland, and why I decided to go there in the first place.

“Until I attended my first meeting of this committee, I had no intention of ever venturing into the wraithland. To me, the wraith was a distant threat, not as pressing as my desire to ensure Aecorians’ safety, and reclaim my kingdom.” I avoided looking in Prince Colin’s direction. “It was my experience with this council that made me realize the wraith was not as far away as I’d always felt, and that
something
must be done. And when I saw this map”—I gestured toward the wall—“everything changed.”

The guards in front of the wall map shuffled aside to reveal the inked planes and mountains and valleys, and the bands of color that represented the wraith’s approach each month.

“Those two words—
debated
and
confidential
—inspired me to search for the truth about whatever this committee had been hiding about Mirror Lake.” Choosing my words carefully, I told the group about chasing rumors, joining the merchant caravan, and stealing into the wraithland on a borrowed horse. I told them how I’d fought glowmen, learned to sleep only a few hours at a time, and ventured deeper into the wraith than anyone had in decades.

I pulled a section of papers from my stack and handed them to the queen regent. “Please take one.” As the papers went around
the table, I said, “These are copies of the notes I took during my journey. I wanted to be thorough, so you’ll find details about the weather, vegetation, and wildlife.” Nothing personal, though. There were too many things I didn’t want to share with this group. “Especially important are my notes on Mirror Lake.”

Tobiah lifted an eyebrow. “When did you make all these copies?”

“This morning. I couldn’t sleep.”

Smiling faintly, he shook his head. “Please continue.”

So I did. I told them about the locust swarm, what I’d done to save myself, and how the wraith boy had been created. “My power isn’t supposed to do that. I temporarily animate objects, but I never give real life. I haven’t yet figured out what was different this time.”

“Is it something you could do again?” asked John Price. “If you brought the wraith to life and we just explained to it—”

“Don’t be stupid.” Adam Goldberg banged a fist on the table. “You saw the creature last night. If Princess Wilhelmina hadn’t been there to stop it, we’d all have died.”

“If Princess Wilhelmina hadn’t been there,” corrected Prince Colin, “the wraith boy wouldn’t have been, either.”

That was true.

“We’re getting off topic.” Tobiah held up a warning hand. “At any rate, that was one of my first questions, and the answer is no. Animating that much wraith could kill Wilhelmina.”

“And before anyone suggests my life is worth sacrificing for this, keep in mind that I don’t know what will happen if I die while in control of something, especially something as unpredictable as the wraith.” I glanced at Prince Colin, whose eyes
were narrowed and flinty. “My mother was an animator, too, and her mother. I’ve heard stories of animated knitting or pens that fell lifeless once more when the flasher died. If that happened while the wraith boy, or any other animated wraith, were here in Skyvale . . .”

I gave them a moment to recall the Inundation: the chaos and screams and
crack
of shattering glass.

“At any rate,” added Meredith, “what would it say about us as a people if we were to sacrifice someone like that?”

The queen lifted an eyebrow. “The saints died for our salvation.”

“Yet Princess Wilhelmina is not a saint.” Meredith pressed her hands to her mouth. “That was rude. I’m sorry.”

I shrugged off the comment. Of course I wasn’t a saint.

We needed to get back on topic. I glanced at my notes and cleared my throat. “With what I learned in the wraithland, and what I learned about the wraith boy last night—”

“When last night?” Prince Colin’s eyes narrowed. “As he was bringing down one of our most iconic and beloved buildings, risking thousands of lives?”

Several people frowned. Theresa glared like she’d murder him. “The only person who endured true harm last night was Princess Wilhelmina. She’s the one who acted quickly enough to ensure we all survived.”

“One cannot hold Her Highness responsible for every action taken by others.” Meredith folded her hands over the papers in front of her.

Their defense of me was nice, but unnecessary. “I spoke to the wraith boy once I awakened.”

Captain Chuter leaned forward, a pen poised over paper. The sharp, straight lines of his handwriting drew my gaze for a second. “What did you learn?”

“He is terrified of mirrors.” I glanced at Tobiah. “That is to our advantage.”

“All the mirrors in Skyvale are broken,” said another. “How does that help us?”

“After the Inundation, Skyvale is filled with people who need work. Create jobs by opening the factories to produce as many mirrors as possible. Pay people to gather the biggest shards from the streets, and have them pieced together. Then you’ll need people to hang the mirrors, and have them transported all along the western border of the Indigo Kingdom.”

“That’s your solution?” General Adam Goldberg shook his head. “That is not enough, Your Highness.”

“It’s not a solution,” I said, “but a mitigation effort. Something this council should be very familiar with.” That brought a few snorts of repressed laughter, and even the queen regent looked amused. “Not only that, this is something we can do
right now
. It will help the city recover from the tragedy of the Inundation.”