The Mirror King (Orphan Queen) (28 page)

THE CLOCK ON
the mantel showed half past the fourth hour.

I slipped out from under the covers and threw on my dressing gown. At the balcony door, I pulled aside the curtain and gazed at the night-black city, my bedroom faintly reflected.

My breath fogged the glass. From here, I could see a glow on the cliffs in the west: more mirrors were hung every day, though trying to protect Aecor
and
be mindful of the wildlife that lived there was a tricky balance.

I let the curtain fall as I moved away.

With a touch of the switch, the gas lamp hissed to life above my desk. Notebooks lay scattered across the surface. My diary, the two linked to the Ospreys and Tobiah, and a handful I’d pulled off bookshelves in this room and my father’s.

I’d discovered their diaries weeks ago, but it had taken several days before I’d been brave enough to begin reading. But there’d been no comfort in my parents’ words. They worried about the
same things I did: feeding the people, ensuring their safety, and maintaining relationships with the surrounding kingdoms.

Absent from most of their entries: the wraith.

Meanwhile, I was reminded of the wraith each day when I visited the wraith boy. My dark mirror who spoke in riddles and warnings of the coming desolation.

I pushed my parents’ journals aside and opened the entangled notebooks. Nothing from the Skyvale Ospreys. Nothing from Tobiah, either. Only my dozens of letters to him.

Some were short, simply queries about Tobiah and the Ospreys’ safety, while many were longer updates about the city and kingdom and refugees building new villages off the main roads to other Aecorian cities.

Chest heavy with stress and grief and desperation, I reached for a pen and added another note.
Tobiah, it’s been a month. I’ve sent riders to look for you in Skyvale. Please answer.

I drew a line, signaling his turn, but his response never came.

Winter’s hold on Aecor eased over the next weeks.

In the very early morning, I sat down to write, even though I knew better. There’d been no replies for two months—not in the white notebook, nor the blue.

Tobiah,

“Before the anniversary of the One-Night War, you will unlock those bars and together we will take Aecor.” That’s what Patrick said when I locked him in the dungeon.

The anniversary is just days away. I’ve been looking
forward to it for years. Before, because I thought it was the day I’d take back my kingdom. Now, it’s a symbol of moving beyond that awful night. If Patrick thinks he can—

A knock sounded on my door. It wasn’t Danie; she never knocked, just slipped in and out like a ghost.

“Enter!” I blew on the ink and shut the notebook.

Melanie peeked in. “One of the riders you sent to the Indigo Kingdom returned last night.”

“Finally.” I lurched to my feet, heart pounding in my throat. “What news?”

“I don’t know. Prince Colin intercepted it first, and now he’s summoning you.”

I dressed quickly and followed Melanie, my mind boiling over with questions. But like Patrick, Prince Colin was the kind of man who enjoyed making announcements.

I’d been to the council room a hundred times since coming home, but the space always seemed smaller than I remembered. Still, it was gloomy, and thick with the ancient ghosts of Aecorian rulers.

An immense stone table stood in the center of the room, six thick legs carved into waterfalls. Age had darkened the crevices of the pale blue marble, adding to the illusion of rushing water. Ten matching chairs sat around the table, their cushions new and fat.

“Please have a seat.” Crown Prince Colin Pierce, House of the Dragon, Overlord of Aecor Territory sat at the head of the table.

My father’s seat.

I loomed in the doorway, staring at his relaxed posture. My jaw ached from clenching, and anticipation made my heart race. “Tell me the news.”

Prince Colin stood, pressing his thumbs and fingertips against the table. “One of the riders from Skyvale has returned.” His expression was oddly calm.

Only one rider? That did not bode well. “Tell me.”

“Sit,” he said. “Please.”

I glanced at Melanie. James had approached behind us, and both wore masks of unease. Riders had left
weeks
ago. We’d been waiting every day for news.

“I’ll stand.” But I moved deeper into the room, careful to keep my expression neutral.

“Fine.” He stepped away from his chair and crossed his arms. “The rider has already been sent to the hospital to be treated for the injuries the Red Militia inflicted.”

My fists curled. Claire cooperated with me, but the entire Militia didn’t. With Patrick in prison, the Red Militia seemed to have lost cohesion, which meant individuals and small groups tended to act in their own interests.

An odd note of sympathy entered Prince Colin’s tone. “I wish you would sit.”

I caught James’s nod in the corner of my eye, and acquiesced. The captain pulled out the nearest chair for me, and then one for Melanie.

Prince Colin took his chair again. My father’s chair. “Skyvale has fallen.” His eyes moved from me to Melanie to James. “Skyvale, and the Indigo Valley, are part of the wraithland now.”

My breath came in short gasps, and tears swelled in my eyes; I blinked them away. “And the people? Were they able to escape?” Please, saints.

“Some.” He dropped his eyes. “Much of the Hawksbill nobility left the city as soon as West Pass Watch fell, but there were many who could not.”

That much I knew from Tobiah’s last letter. It was everything
after
that I needed to hear.

“My brother Herman is dead.”

I’d known, but hadn’t been able to tell Prince Colin without revealing the notebooks. “I’m sorry,” I said. “He was a well-respected man, I know.”

Prince Colin glanced toward the window and gathered himself. “The riders were delayed because they had to travel throughout the kingdom for information. The others were killed during their journey.”

That thought chilled me. I’d sent those men to their deaths.

“Glowmen—bigger than any we’ve ever seen in the city—took out most of the Flags, while wraith beasts rampaged through Thornton and Greenstone. The Hawksbill wall held for a night, but eventually the beasts got through. Hawksbill and the King’s Seat are gone.”

“What about the evacuation routes?” My question sounded flat. Lifeless. Because I’d known, hadn’t I? No word from Tobiah. No word from the Ospreys. And even if the king had often been slow to reply, Connor had written every day.

The first day I hadn’t heard from Connor—that had been worrying. But the second. The third . . .

“Most of the routes were blocked,” Prince Colin continued.
“Either filled with wraith and creatures, or the stampede of people escaping. Everyone looked for the king, but he wasn’t at any of the evacuation points. His guards couldn’t find him. Someone thought they saw him at the house where your Ospreys were living, but when they followed, it was empty. They’re all presumed dead.”

Numbly, I reached for Melanie’s hand and squeezed. Connor. Carl. Theresa. Kevin.

James’s hand fell on my shoulder, his fingers curled and white at the knuckles. His cousin. His best friend. His king.

Gone.

I placed my free hand on top of James’s, and for a long moment sat connected with these two people: my best friend, and Tobiah’s. The grief surged between us.

We’d all known, in a way. None of us had wanted to say anything, to be the one to voice the awful thought lest we be the one to make it come true.

Prince Colin glanced between us, his gaze settling on James. “Many people were sent to Hawes. Your mother, the king’s mother. I’ve sent riders to investigate.”

Then Hawes was still safe? “How far has the wraith come?” My voice sounded hollow.

“It’s spilled out of the valley. We know that,” Prince Colin said. “There isn’t an accurate picture yet, but from what I gather, about half of the Indigo Kingdom is already under.”

Half.

The wraith was coming so fast.

Because of me? Because of Chrysalis?

“I’ll leave you alone for a while.” Prince Colin stood. There
was a soft, strange tilt to his tone. “I’m sorry.”

“We don’t need your pity,” I whispered. “We don’t need to hear how
sorry
you are. Everything you say is a lie.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “I am not a monster, Wilhelmina. Skyvale was my home. Terrell and Herman were my brothers. Tobiah was my nephew. Francesca is my sister by marriage. I’ve known those families my entire life. If you think this news doesn’t affect me, you are mistaken.

“And before you find some way to blame me, remember that
you
are the one who chose to leave your friends behind. You could have stayed with them and helped them survive the wraith, or you could have fought to bring them with you. But you did neither of those things. Instead, you followed me here because you wouldn’t give up the kingdom you haven’t seen in ten years.”

I was on my feet before I realized, Melanie’s and James’s hands thrown off, and my fingertips brushed my daggers. “I chose my kingdom over my friends. It’s what a good queen would do.”

Something unidentifiable flared over his face. “And where is your kingdom without your friends, Your Majesty?”

He turned and left the room.

It was hard to believe the Indigo Kingdom was gone.

The timing was sadly appropriate. News of the Indigo Kingdom’s destruction came just days before the ten-year anniversary of the One-Night War.

The Indigo Kingdom was gone, and half a year ago I would have celebrated. Now, all I felt was empty.

“We need to tell the others.” I closed my eyes, but my mind conjured up memories from the wraithland: a vast, wasted world where trees had teeth and animals grew to terrible sizes. I remembered the white mist that glowed, obscuring everything, and the way it reeked acrid and burned my nose.

I shook away the images of Connor, Theresa, Carl, and Kevin struggling to survive in a place that looked familiar, but would eat them whole if they took one wrong step.

“If Skyvale is gone,” I muttered in James’s direction, “that means the barrier is gone.”

He nodded and didn’t say anything.

Two of the Queen’s Guards waited at the door, Matthew and Cael, though I was unsure when they’d shown up or how much they’d witnessed. “Fetch Paige and the Grays. I need them immediately.”

Both young men snapped and thumped their black-gloved fists to their chests. Their boots stamped on the thin rug as they disappeared down the hall.

“They’re soldiers, not pages.” James’s reminder held no heat. He was lost in his own grief.

I sank into the chair Prince Colin had abandoned.

Pale sunlight angled through the windows as dawn broke. Dust motes drifted through the bands of light, and I mourned the lives my friends would never get to have.

Connor would never become the greatest healer the world had ever known.

Carl would never learn to use his incredible stealth for the good of the kingdom.

Theresa would never have the chance to show that behind
her quiet facade, there was a strong, compassionate leader ready to right injustices.

Kevin would never have a chance to put his sharp mind to use in a real council meeting.

The night Patrick announced Quinn and Ezra had died, I’d sworn to Connor and Theresa that we’d build memorials and hold days of remembrance. Not just for Quinn and Ezra, but for those who’d gone before.

They’d never know when I made good on those promises, or that the same would hold for them.

So many Ospreys had died in our struggle with the Indigo Kingdom. And now the wraith had taken more.

And wasn’t it all because of the wraith to begin with?

“It’s taken everything from us.” My whisper drew Melanie’s and James’s eyes. “The war that took our families happened because of the wraith. Radiants became flashers because of the wraith. Our friends are dead because of the wraith. It will take Aecor, too, unless I stop it.”

“How will you do that?” Melanie asked.

Paige, Oscar, and Ronald arrived, saving me from having to admit I didn’t know. “Sit,” I instructed, and they obeyed.

The boys had on their Queen’s Guard uniforms, though they weren’t on duty for another three hours. Later, I’d make a formal announcement for the city and kingdom. I’d write letters to the rulers of Laurel-by-the-Sea and the remaining Wraith Alliance kingdoms, though most seemed to have closed themselves off. But right now, my friends needed me to be strong. They needed not for me to make this right, but to make this make sense.

“The Indigo Kingdom has fallen. Our friends there are presumed dead.”

Their expressions shifted from disbelief to horror to grief. Paige let out a small groan of despair, and Melanie moved to comfort her.

“Before I give you the few details I have, I want you to know this: I will do everything in my power to stop the wraith from taking any more of our friends.”

CHRYSALIS STOOD IN
the doorway, shoulders hunched so his jacket hung awkwardly over his narrow frame. “You didn’t come to see me this morning.”

“Sorry.” Not really. Sort of. “I’ve been busy all day.” After meetings and announcements and attempting to comfort people when all I wanted to do was hide in my room, I was exhausted. My stomach ached with the hollow sensation of hunger; I’d skipped breakfast and lunch, but when I’d finally sat down to dinner, I couldn’t force myself to eat more than a couple of bites.

Cold prickled over my skin, numbing me as night fell.

The wraith boy opened the door wider to let me into his storage room, and I motioned for James and Melanie to wait in the hall. They nodded and bowed their heads together to talk as the door swung shut behind me.

Hands clasped at his chest, the wraith boy gave me his most
imploring gaze. “It’s not for you to apologize to me. Maybe I wasn’t good enough—”

“Chrysalis.” That sounded empty. I tried again. “Chrysalis. It wasn’t you.”

Not specifically. But he was wraith. His good behavior lately didn’t negate his nature. He was destructive.

His small room challenged that assertion, though. Books in neat stacks lined the space, and his bed—a simple pallet of padding and blankets—was made up, with piles of folded clothes sitting on top. That part was easy, though, since he never slept, and he preferred the tattered clothes he’d worn since the beginning.

The space was stuffy and hot, but I wasn’t ready to let the wraith boy out. I didn’t want to remind anyone of his presence. People hadn’t
forgotten
the night of my arrival here, or the battle on Snowhaven Bridge, but if he was out of sight, he was less of a liability.

“I need to ask you something,” I said. “I need you to answer me honestly.”

“Always.” His eyes shone. “I’m so glad you have questions for me.”

“Wraith has flooded the Indigo Valley. Skyvale is gone. The rest of the Indigo Kingdom won’t be far behind. Maybe a few years. Maybe a few months.”

His voice turned darker. “Maybe not even as long as that.”

“Is there a way to stop the wraith from advancing?”

He shook his head. “There is no way to stop it forever. Your barrier might slow it for a time, but wraith doesn’t like being contained.”

Was he talking about wraith in general, or revealing his own unhappiness? What would he do if I never gave him more room to stretch? Maybe, eventually, he’d turn on me.

I took in his eager face, the set of his shoulders angled toward me, and the earnestness in his voice when he said, “I’ll protect you when the wraith comes.”

I let out a long breath. He was still on my side, but how long could I keep him caged? “It’s not just me anymore, Chrysalis.” I curled my fists into my dress. “It’s the entire kingdom. I need to protect everyone here. Everyone who was born here, and all the people coming here looking for safety. Can you protect everyone?”

He chewed on his lip—a disarmingly human gesture. “I would try, if that’s what you wanted.”

“Would it hurt you?”

The wraith boy approached me with all the hesitancy of a kitten taking its first steps. “That’s irrelevant,” he said. “What my queen wants is the only thing that matters.”

Darkness blanketed the castle by the time Melanie, James, and I returned to my rooms and dragged a trio of chairs closer to the fire.

A tray of tea and snacks waited for us. I poured while James pulled out a large map of Aecor and Melanie prowled the suite as though searching for someone hidden. When all was clear, I told them about my conversation with the wraith boy.

“He said he could protect you.” James took his seat. Red rimmed his eyes, but if he’d cried over Tobiah’s death, I hadn’t
seen. “Any idea how he’d do that?”

I shook my head. “Kill wraith beasts, maybe? I doubt even he knows. I get the feeling his actions are as much a surprise to him as they are to us. He never considers consequences. He just acts.”

“He’s like a wild animal.” Melanie’s gaze drifted toward the map sitting on a stand between her and James. “Trying to please, never getting it quite right.”

“Usually never in the vicinity of right.”

“Because you keep him caged, even when he behaves.”

“My point is,” I said, “Chrysalis may be willing to try to protect the entire kingdom, but there’s no guarantee he’ll be successful. He’s too powerful to sacrifice without assurance of success.”

“Plus, he’s human now,” Melanie said. “He’s a person, not a tool.”

“He murdered the last person who believed in him like that.” James kept his tone even, but his eyes were hard. “He’s
not
human. He’s a human-shaped wraith creature, alive only because Wilhelmina commanded. So don’t be so quick to defend him.”

She frowned and went back to her study of the map of Aecor. “What of the barrier?”

“We must assume it’s gone. Tobiah said—” James cleared his throat and touched the notebook he’d used to write to Tobiah. “He said they’d started to put up some of the barrier, but obviously it didn’t hold.”

“Maybe it wasn’t big enough, or there wasn’t enough magic.
Maybe the wraith beasts weren’t enough, and it needed to be real, human magic.” I sighed. “There are a hundred things we can’t know.”

“We have the construction plans, right?” Melanie tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “What if we tried to make one? Aecor is smaller than the Indigo Kingdom. We could set up the barrier along the coast. Maybe ring the entire peninsula if it looks like it’s going to work.”

“What about Laurel-by-the-Sea?” I pointed at our northern neighbors. “James, do we know their status?”

He shook his head. “They’ve closed their borders. But a ringed barrier wouldn’t prevent them from coming here if they didn’t have defenses. How much of a population can Aecor support?”

I didn’t know. “It might not matter. Chrysalis doesn’t believe a barrier will do anything more than delay the inevitable. That was Liadia’s experience, and what we were hoping for with Tobiah’s”—I managed not to choke on his name—“committee. But we believed we’d have more time. Time to research, experiment, and build, and then the wraith would hit the barrier.”

Then we’d have a year to live unless we miraculously found a solution.

Our parents and grandparents had left us this world that was spiraling out of control. All their efforts hadn’t been enough to save it. How could we hope to make a difference?

“We don’t have time to build a barrier,” James said. “Even with the construction plans, we don’t have the resources.”

And even if we had enough flashers in Aecor to supply the magic, I doubted they would step forward. I wouldn’t have.

“What do you propose?” Melanie asked.

“My king and cousin is dead.” James’s chest expanded with a ragged breath as he faced me, expression grave. “Two months ago, he forbade me from returning to the Indigo Kingdom, but now, Wilhelmina, you are my queen. Allow me to journey into the new wraithland with a team of volunteers and retrieve any parts of the barrier I can find. I’ll bring it back to you.”

“You’d be risking your life.”

“It’s nothing less than you or Tobiah would do. Besides, I have no intentions of dying. Best case, I return with barrier pieces to help protect Aecor for a time. Worst, I return with information about the wraithland and where the borders are.”

“Worst case, I never see you again.”

“I’m reasonably certain I can’t die.” James hazarded a smile, but we both knew he was thinking about the mystery of his healing. Now he’d never know what happened. “Maybe I can find refugees as well.”

Maybe he could find his cousin, he meant.

I turned my eyes to the fire, watching flames jump up and around the blackening logs. “This is the only plan we have?”

“The only one that doesn’t involve giving up.” James leaned forward and touched my arm. “Let me do this. I know I can.”

The idea of sending James into the wraithland was appalling, not just because the wraithland was a nightmare come to life, but because I needed him here. But he was the best choice for this mission, and if there was even the slimmest chance that Tobiah and the Ospreys had survived, James would be the one to find them.

“Prince Colin won’t permit it.”

“I know how we’ll deal with Prince Colin.”

I nodded. “I won’t stop you, then. We need any parts of the barrier you can recover. In the morning, I’ll work with Paige and her new assistants to see if there’s any way to convert one of the unused factories into something like Tobiah’s barrier facility. We may not be able to construct an entire barrier here, but we can do something.”

We spent the remainder of the night discussing who would go with James, and what routes they’d take into Skyvale. When we’d finished our tea and they started for the door, I hugged both of them. Melanie for the friends we’d lost. And James for the hope he still carried.

“Remember, this won’t be a rescue mission,” I whispered. “I don’t want you to stay in the wraithland any longer than it takes to fetch the barrier.”

“I know,” he said, and they left.

Alone, I opened the entangled notebook James had left on his chair.

Page by page, I read through the letters Tobiah and I had written each other, and the last string of notes and pleas I’d left.

I opened a jar of ink and dipped a pen.

How long have you been gone, Tobiah? Since we last talked? Was it that night? That hour?

I’ve only just had confirmation that Skyvale has fallen and even though part of me suspected this whole time, I hoped. I hoped. But if you’d survived an attack on Skyvale, you’d have reached me by now.

The last time we wrote, I wanted to tell you
something, but I didn’t. Maybe there’s no point anymore. But. But Tobiah, I miss you.

I miss you and I wish you were here.

Love,

Wilhelmina

Tears swam in my eyes as I cleaned the pen and then placed my hands on the notebook. “
Go to sleep
,” I whispered.
“Be a normal notebook again. Nothing more.”