The Mirror King (Orphan Queen) (21 page)

“Am I?” James squeezed the notebook. “Normal men don’t heal like that. And he”—James pointed at the wardrobe—“keeps whispering that I’m not real.”

“I’d ask him what he means by it, but he specializes in non–answers.”

“I don’t recall ever being hurt after the One-Night War, either.” James was quiet for a few minutes, building up to whatever he needed to say. “I don’t understand what’s wrong with me. When I asked Tobiah about it, he swore we’d investigate, but every time I try, he puts off even beginning the investigation.”

How surprising: Tobiah was hiding something.

“We fought about it last night.” He sat tall and proud, hiding his anxiety. But I remembered his conversation with Tobiah during the coronation ball, the ghosts of uncertainty that stole over him any time someone brought up his healing.

“Was it a bad fight?”

“Aren’t all fights with your best friend awful?”

“They are.” At least with the entangled notebooks, the boys could discuss the issue from a safe distance. “To you, there’s no one more important than him. And to him, there’s no one more important than you. You’ll work it out.”

“And so will you and Melanie.”

“I know we will.” That was the only good thing about all of this: seeing Melanie again. Already, I could feel our connection pulling tighter as I drew closer to her. I wondered if she could feel it, too. “You and I can look into the mystery of your healing. If you want.”

“Thanks,” he said, “but I only told you that to help with my spying efforts. Did it make you want to tell me what you and Colin were discussing?”

“You’re shameless.” I touched my own notebook, the one connected to the Ospreys. “Prince Colin threatened my friends. Theresa and the boys. They’re all competent fighters, and very clever, but there are only four of them.”

“What did he want?”

“He wanted me to use him”—I inclined my head toward the wardrobe—“as a weapon against Patrick.”

“Would that be terrible? You did send him after Lien to begin with.”

“It wouldn’t be just Patrick. It would be the people who are fighting under him, in my name, because they believe I’m a hostage. It would be hundreds—maybe thousands—of innocent people. And you saw what happens. He’s chaotic. I can’t unleash him against my own people. Not even to get at Patrick.”

James closed his eyes and sighed. “You might not have a choice. Prince Colin might not leave you with one. I
will
warn Tobiah to put extra security on the Ospreys, and you can alert them, too. But the crown prince has many resources. After the wedding, he no doubt has people in the Order who’d be willing to risk their careers.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” I hugged the notebook to my chest. “The Ospreys are everything to me.”

“I know. I’ll do everything I can to help you keep them safe.” James bent to pick up our dinner tray. “Is there anything else you need before I go?”

“Where are you going after you return that?”

“There’s a wagon for officers. I have a bunk there.”

“I want you to stay here instead.” It wasn’t asking for help if I made it a royal order.

He glanced at the door and shook his head. “That would be inappropriate. If this is because of Prince Colin, I could have one of the night guards stationed outside your wagon.”

“And put my life into a stranger’s hands?” I deepened my
voice. “I need someone I can trust to keep me alive. They won’t feel guilty if something happens to me. They’d look the other way.” Not that I’d blame them. The cathedral was one thing, but the wedding was an entirely different matter.

“I’ll come back, then. If anyone asks, I’m guarding you from him.” He pointed an elbow at the wardrobe. “I answer directly to King Tobiah. Why would I entrust another to guard your door? Imagine the consequences I’d face if foreign royalty were harmed under my watch!”

The hardness in my neck and shoulders eased. “Thank you.”

When he left, I changed into loose trousers and a soft shirt, and pulled a heavy wool dressing gown over everything. As I slid my travel boots under the bed, the toes hit something. I knelt and reached under the bed, and out came the bag of Black Knife clothes and weapons.

I pushed it back under.

Only two people might have put the bag there, and I doubted James would act without Tobiah’s permission. But what did that mean? I wasn’t ready to guess.

I kept my daggers within reach as I sat at the desk to read the Ospreys’ letters in my notebook.

They hadn’t managed to get into trouble—yet—but it was only a matter of time before Carl’s pockets were heavy with other people’s valuables, and Connor was nursing stray kittens back to health, and Theresa and Kevin were caught eavesdropping on important political discussions.

The letters made me smile, and it was late when I finished reading—and I was tired—but I took my time choosing a handwriting and ink. Not that there was much ink to choose from on
this journey, but I wanted to feel normal for once, even when I was warning my friends to keep their eyes open.

James came back into the wagon with a bedroll under one arm, and took the desk when I was finished. One at a time, I doused all the lanterns but the one above where he wrote to Tobiah, and then I climbed into bed. A few minutes later, he spread out his roll in front of the door, and we both fell asleep to the sound of the wraith boy humming.

THE CONVOY TRAVELED
southeast across the Indigo Kingdom, away from the piedmont and closer to the sea. Soldiers had to ride ahead and melt the icy layers covering the tracks. Even so, I could sometimes feel the wheels slip and the horses stumble with the shifting load.

The weather meant James and I stayed in the wagon most of the time, reading, writing, and listening to the wraith boy hum new and haunting tunes.

“I want to tell you something.” I closed my diary, my hand resting on the worn black cover. It was nearly full, and ragged after years of use. The letters Tobiah had written to me were folded neatly in the back, held in with a silk band.

“That would be nice.” James wrote one last line in his book to Tobiah and faced me, an odd mix of tension and ease in his expression and posture. News from Skyvale was never good anymore. “What is it?”

“I’ve been reading through this today.” I tapped my notebook against my knees. “I started keeping it when I was nine, and I’d just agreed with Patrick that we should reclaim Aecor. That I should take the vermilion throne when we were old enough to make a stand.”

James just nodded.

“I’ve spent every day since then trying to make that girl’s dream a reality. She wanted to do what she thought her parents would want: retake the kingdom. But they’re gone now, and I’ll never know more about them than what I remember. The truth is, I don’t know what they’d have wanted for me.”

“Maybe their belongings are still in the castle. Diaries? Records? Letters?”

“I doubt Prince Colin would have left those around during his years as overlord. No, I’m certain all their records are gone. And that’s all right.” I held up my journal. “What I’m saying is, I don’t know if this girl exists anymore. Her world was red against blue. Us against you. But so much has changed.”

James leaned forward.

“Everything I’ve done has been to get back my kingdom. It was all accomplished Patrick’s way, though. Since parting with him, I’ve tried to change and take actions that would have made my parents truly proud. But what good is going to war with the Indigo Kingdom, or fighting with Prince Colin to reclaim it? The wraith is so close. There are only a handful of kingdoms left.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m not the girl who started this diary anymore. What if Tobiah was right? What if I wouldn’t be a good queen?”

“Did he tell you that you would be a poor queen?” James’s eyebrows pulled in with a frown.

“He may as well have.” I placed my notebook on the bed and stood, stretching my legs.

James gave me a moment. “Do you
want
to be queen?”

I stood before the mirror. In the week following the wedding, my cheeks had hollowed and circles darkened the spaces under my eyes. I didn’t look very much like the queen Meredith would have been: strong, kind, lovely. “It doesn’t matter what I want anymore. What I want only gets me into trouble.”

Was it possible to stop desiring?

From the wardrobe, the wraith boy chuckled.

I spun and ripped open the doors. A different, darker reflection stared back at me. Then he drew back, pressing himself against the side wall. His chest heaved, like he’d nearly been trapped in the glass forever.

“What?” I growled.

“Do you hear that sound?” Still flat against the side wall, he twisted his head to look westward. “There are drums. Shouts. They came across the sea.”

I glanced at James. “The wagon has stopped moving.” Without precautions, that was dangerous in this weather. The wheels could freeze to the tracks.

He was already standing, strapping his sword around his waist. “Stay inside.”

“Where are you going?” My heart thundered with anticipation.

“To look.” He tossed on his coat, not bothering to button it or find a hat. “I’ll be back in a moment. Close that wardrobe.” He
was out the door and into thigh-high snowdrifts within seconds.

I slammed the wardrobe door—the wraith boy let out a small
meep!
—and found my own weapons. Daggers. Sword from the Black Knife bag. I slung my cloak over my shoulders, and just as I was about to move outside, James returned.

“Wil, I told you to stay here.” His eyes were wide, and his clothes covered in snow.

“You’re my guard, not my king. You can’t order me around.” I tied my cloak tight and pushed past him, but he caught my arm and spun me back to face him. Our noses almost touched.

“I do order you around when your life is in danger. Patrick brought an army. There are at least three thousand men on this side of the bridge already, with more on the way. We walked into an ambush. We’re outnumbered. If the Red Militia knew you were here—”

“They’d stop fighting. Now let go of me.” I wrenched myself away, and he backed off. He didn’t try to stop me as I raced out the door, where a drift of snow and ice crumbled under my feet, causing a tiny avalanche to collapse beneath the wagon.

I grabbed the doorframe as I sank into the snow, then heaved myself to my feet and found the trail he’d made, though it wasn’t much easier to walk through.

The sky was thick with stars, and the air sharp with snow and sea salt. The land was flat, flat, flat, nothing but frozen trees and marsh all around.

A dozen soldiers stood watch atop wagons and from horseback, while most of the fighting was closer to the bridge and water. For a half second, I considered trying to jump wagon to wagon, but I’d never make it. Not with the horses and the spaces
between, and definitely not in my travel dress and cloak.

I shoved through the heavy snow, keeping to James’s path. Even so, my steps were all
whoosh-crunch
and sluggish, especially as the cold pressed through my clothes, numbing my legs. My face stung at the icy air, and my breath heaved out in bursts of steam.

“Wil!” James’s voice carried across the space between us. “Wait!”

He’d catch up. I had to keep following the indigo-coated soldiers. The shore was lit with torches and lanterns. Though it wasn’t far off, snow muted the shouts and clash of blades.

“Your Highness!” The cry came from a guard standing on top of a nearby wagon. “It’s not safe out here.”

That was exactly why I’d come. I pushed forward, half swimming through the snow.

“My queen.” A palm landed on my shoulder, and I pivoted, dagger up, to find my wraith creation right behind me. He wore the same clothes as always, torn and hanging, and if the cold affected him, he didn’t show it. “I’m here to help you.”

“I don’t want your help. Why are you out of your wardrobe?” Snow pressed around me, sharp and stinging against my legs. If I didn’t keep moving, my muscles would stiffen and cramp, and then I’d never be able to find Patrick.

“James said you would need my assistance. He even moved the mirrors out of my way.” The wraith boy reached ahead of me and brushed aside a layer of snow.

Heavy white powder and slush thundered away from us, leaving a shallower stretch across the next few paces.

James walked up behind me. “I’m not sorry,” he said. “If
you won’t be sensible, I won’t, either. Neither of us will allow you to be harmed.”

“You
know
what he did to Meredith. And those guards. And the cathedral.” I squeezed my dagger hilt, desperate to keep circulation in my fingers. “Saints, James. You
know
what he is.”

His hard expression never shifted. “Is this the time to argue? There are people dying on the shore—people from both sides. Do you want to stop it or not?” He eyed the wraith boy askance. “This is the only way you go.”

“Very well. Clear a path, Chrysalis. Don’t hurt anyone, or mirrors will be the very least of your problems.” I sheathed my dagger and held my cloak tight over my chest.

“I will do only as you order, my queen.” He bowed his head and shuffled in front of me to begin his work.

He would obey, but for how long? I glanced at James, keeping my voice low. “If he harms someone, that’s on you.”

Shouts came from atop the wagons, ordering us to put the wraith boy back inside, and for James to keep me from doing anything stupid. A soldier on horseback started toward us, but with Chrysalis heaving snow, we moved swiftly along the line of wagons.

“I outrank them,” James said, as though I were worried they’d report him. “What are you going to do? Stand on a wagon and announce your presence?”

“I’ll find Patrick and make him listen to me. That might involve standing on a wagon. I haven’t decided yet.”

“Decide soon. You don’t have much time.” Men were spilling from the fringes of the fighting just ahead. Red and blue
uniforms shone with snow and blood. Swords flashed in the flickering lights.

We ran on, the wraith boy pushing ahead of us. I kept my eyes on the bridge arching above the bay as we dodged smaller fights that had splintered away from the main forces.

There were a lot more men in red than in blue.

James grabbed my arm and we tumbled into the snow just as a flaming arrow struck the place I’d been standing.

“Are you all right?” James climbed to his feet and scanned the area for the shooter, but the arrow could have come from anyone. Everyone moved so quickly.

“Fine.” I stood and adjusted my sword at my hip, resolving to keep a better eye on my surroundings. “And thanks.”

“That’s why I’m here.”

“Shall I find the shooter, my queen?” The wraith boy faced me, a shoulder-high wall of snow growing behind him, shielding the three of us. “I can find whoever tried to assassinate you and—”

I held up a hand. “I don’t want anyone on either side to die.”

“Too late for that.” James glanced over his shoulder where bodies had already fallen. “But he’s right. If you go into the fighting, you will get hurt. Maybe killed. And I promised Tobiah I would keep you alive.”

I turned to the wraith boy. “We need to reach Patrick. I need you to help me get there safely.”

A sinister smile spread across the wraith boy’s face. “Oh yes. The mountain lion man. I remember him.”

“Do not kill him—or anyone else, for that matter.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “If we’re attacked?”

“You know my orders, Chrysalis. Don’t try to get around them. Don’t do anything you
think
I want. If you do, I will take away your name.”

His expression turned blank. “I understand.”

“He could be anywhere,” James said. “He might not even be here.”

“No. He’s here.” I gazed over the distance, the blades and bodies everywhere. The stench of salt and blood filled the air, with a slight edge of wraith coming from Chrysalis.

“Where?”

“Where he can see everything.” I pointed to the immense bridge, where the railroad tracks crossed the water.

Snowhaven Bridge was pre-wraith, all sea-battered steel that shimmered in the frantic light. The cables shone like silk strands, and the towers stabbed into the water, going farther than I could see. A pair of hulking guard stations stood at each side of the entrance, with an armored passageway stretching through the sky between them.

“That’s where Patrick will be.”