The Mirror King (Orphan Queen) (30 page)

“I don’t think so. She wouldn’t have tried to make him look guilty. No, she invented her affection to give her a reason to go to the prison. She could easily say she was looking in on someone for me, or plant a note on Patrick’s meal tray. There may be more involved.”

Melanie blew out a breath. “I’ll alert James and have him look into it.”

“It’s a good disguise. Who would suspect the queen’s own maid of treachery?”

“Not the queen.”

I flicked my little finger at her. “And not the head of secret intelligence.”

She smirked. “You’re the worst best friend.”

“I know. Just make sure James moves quickly on this. Whatever Patrick has planned, it will be big. The bridge was just a warning. The real event will happen tomorrow.”

As tempting as it was to postpone the coronation and deal with the Red Militia first, that would send an undesirable message to the rest of my enemies, Prince Colin included.

“What can I do for you?” James asked when he arrived at our summons. His eyes cut to the notebooks on my desk, lifeless now.

“Do you have any proof?” he asked, after Melanie caught him up.

Melanie crossed her arms. “Isn’t the queen’s word enough?”

“No, James is right.” I leaned back in my chair. “I won’t be the sort of queen who makes arrests based on suspicion and fear. But I want her watched. I want to know where she goes, who she speaks with, and every detail about her history with the Red Militia.”

“Do you want her replaced?” Melanie asked. “If she’s a traitor and spy, you can do better for a maid.”

“She is a good maid. Aside from possibly being a traitor and spy. She keeps my rooms immaculate.” I did wonder if the
frightened-maid act had been just that—an act. Or maybe she’d been afraid of being caught. “No, leave her until we know more. If she’s working with other staff around the castle, I don’t want to hire another spy.”

“We must act quickly, though,” Melanie said. “The anniversary and your coronation are tomorrow.”

“As if I could forget.” I stood and straightened my dress, breathing through the reminder of friends not here, and the king whose death meant I would be crowned queen. “There’s another thing I need to do. I’m going to invite Chrysalis to the coronation.”

Both their eyes went round. “Are you sure that’s wise?” James asked.

After the memorial, when he’d collapsed the cathedral.

After the wedding, when he’d killed Meredith.

“No, I’m not sure. But he’s had moments of usefulness. At the bridge, during the first Red Militia riot, and he’s been quiet since. I’ve kept him in his room, and he’s done nothing but obey. He isn’t
safe
. He isn’t to be
trusted
. But I can’t keep him caged forever. He needs to be given some movement, and this will allow that.”

James muttered he was going to triple security. As if tomorrow wasn’t going to be stressful enough.

After they were gone, I headed for the wraith boy’s room, a pair of silent guards trailing after me. They waited in the hall with the guards assigned to the storage room.

“I’m pleased you’ve come to see me.” Chrysalis grinned as I drifted toward his sleeping pallet where piles of folded clothes waited.

“I need you to pick something nice to wear tomorrow.”

His smile dropped. “I like this.” He pinched a corner of his tattered, dirty blue jacket between his fingers, and held it up as though for me to see. “Can’t I just wear this?”

I lifted an eyebrow. “Do you really not know?”

“Know about what?” He rubbed the dirty jacket between his fingers, still pouting.

I picked through the clothes for something both clean and acceptable, and pulled out a jacket and breeches, both white. “When you first transformed, you were completely white. Maybe these, to remind everyone how far you’ve come since then.”

He shook his head, staring at the clothes in a forlorn way. “I’m definitely going to get those dirty.”

“That would be very embarrassing for me.” I dug out a pair of white stockings to match.

“Why? No one cares what I wear, or if I get it dirty.”

“Not tomorrow.” I folded my choices and separated them from the rest. Then I turned to meet his eyes—my mirror eyes. “Tomorrow, you’ll be wearing these clothes to my coronation.”

His jaw dropped. “I can go?”

I forced a smile. “If you dress properly and promise to behave, you’re invited.”

“I will do anything you want, my queen.” Chrysalis knelt and lowered his head in genuflection. “Anything you want.”

EARLY THE NEXT
morning, the seamstress, Rosanne Wallace, came to my room with a long, paper-wrapped package.

“What is that?” I glanced at the clock; it wasn’t even dawn.

“This was your mother’s coronation gown.” She turned on the light and hung the gown from the top of the wardrobe. Though there were likely several layers of paper for protection, the whole package seemed bigger than necessary. At least twice the size of any normal gown. “I thought you might wear it today. It was her mother’s before her, too.”

So it was old, out of fashion, and probably ready to fall apart. That seemed appropriate.

I rinsed my face and mouth before allowing her to measure me. She was quick and gentle, and muttered numbers to herself as she went. The whole time, the gown waited beneath its packaging, huge and mysterious.

“You’re taller than your mother,” said Rosanne. “And
skinnier. We can let out some of the hem and take in some of the seams, but you won’t fill it out, I’m afraid.”

“I’m used to it.” I stepped off the measuring stool and started for the washroom again. The coronation was at noon, the ball in the evening, and then I’d be back to running the kingdom, this time with actual authority.

A terrifying thought.

“You’ll look beautiful today, even if I lose a finger to this needle.”

The corner of my mouth twitched up. “If you bleed on it, then I’ll have the vermilion gown, not just the vermilion throne.”

“There are a lot of us who’ve wanted you to take the throne these last months you’ve been here.” She moved toward the dress hanging on the wardrobe.

“I’ve waited ten years for this day, and now that it’s here, I can’t stop thinking of everything it’s cost.” Deaths. Betrayals. The destruction of an entire kingdom. “Patrick always said today would be the day I’d take the crown. If I could have done it yesterday, I would have. Or tomorrow. The idea that I’m doing exactly what he wanted . . .”

I bit off my words. I barely knew this woman.

But she was warm and kind, and my mother had trusted her.

“It may be what he wanted, but it sounds like it’s what you wanted, too.” She smiled thoughtfully. “Your coronation couldn’t fall on a more appropriate day. Today is the day the kingdom was lost—and the day it was reclaimed. Today will be remembered for the rest of time.”

I’d been wrong about the gown: it was old, but it wasn’t falling apart. It was a pre-wraith creation of scarlet wool and silk, with gold and silver embroidery over almost every surface. Swirls, angles, and intricate knots: the gown was an extraordinary creation.

The waist was lower than currently fashionable, settling snuggly around my hips and dipping into a knifepoint, but I liked the texture of the embroidery under my palms, and the way it fit flat against my stomach instead of looser like modern gowns. It felt old and regal, like a part of my family’s history I’d never had a chance to learn about.

Radiants had crafted this gown, Rosanne told me while she worked. There was an entire book on the subject, filled with details about the type of fabric used, the embroidery thread, and the magic that repelled dirt and moths and rips. Alterations had to be made with special needles—illegal to make under the Wraith Alliance, but the Wallace family had some for emergencies.

Tobiah would have loved to hear about this, but he never would.

My coronation today was only because he was dead.

Tobiah. My Ospreys. Thousands of others.

Rosanne and Melanie swept my hair into a loose, low bun, and secured it with a delicate net of gold silk. They powdered my face, darkened my eyelids, and softened the circles under my eyes.

“Where’s Danie?” Usually this was her job.

“Poor thing felt ill this morning, I heard.” Rosanne frowned in sympathy. When her back was turned, Melanie lifted an eyebrow and shook her head. Danie was gone.

“That’s such a shame,” I said, and let them get back to work. So, Danie had run. Just one more thing to deal with today.
After
I had the vermilion throne.

When they put a mirror in front of me, I hardly recognized myself. I looked dramatic and otherworldly as they hefted a thick, red cape and fastened it to the gown’s shoulders and sleeves.

“I suppose no one really likes being able to use their arms.” I lifted my arms to the side and grimaced at the weight of embroidered wool.

“Try not to do that,” Rosanne said. “Practice gliding instead of marching, and pulling the cape with your wrists as well as your shoulders to help distribute the weight. And try not to lift your arms until you sit, when attendants will unclip the cape. They’ll fasten it again when you need to stand.”

“My gown requires attendants.” Unbelievable.

Rosanne nodded. “Many queens’ clothing required either attendants or magic, pre-wraith. Fashion was forced to become simpler a hundred years ago.”

The gown had a short train, and the cape yet another. “How am I supposed to sit with all this?”

But the clock on the mantel struck noon, and when Rosanne finished clasping my chain around my neck—my child-sized signet ring dangling from the end like a pendant—she hurried from the room.

“I’ll fetch Chrysalis,” Melanie said on her way out. “I’ll keep him out of trouble and make sure he gets back to his room once the ceremony is finished.”

“Thank you.” I stepped out to find James in his dress uniform, waiting to escort me.

I gave him a moment to notice the gown, the sleeves, the enormous cape. A faint smirk appeared on his face.

“Say anything and I’ll smother you with my cape.”

“I was just going to suggest that red is your color.”

With a weak smile, I practiced my glide on the way to the throne room, and James offered unnecessary reminders: when to move, when to sit, what to say before and after the crown went on, and how to respond to the endless line of people swearing fealty to me.

The throne room doors were closed, only a pair of guards outside to watch for our arrival. One in red, one in blue. Both bowed. A rumble of voices came from within.

James signaled to the guards, and they hauled open the doors with a creak muffled by the sound of voices.

A hush fell over the crowd and all eyes turned toward the open doors. Merchants, soldiers, and nobility from all over. I caught smiles from the Calloways and Gray brothers, and a sullen frown from Prince Colin near the front.

I held my place while James strode down the aisle, tailcoats fluttering behind him. When he stood at the dais where the vermilion throne waited, he faced the audience. “It’s Aecorian tradition for visiting royalty to make a speech on coronation day. I regret that my cousin, King Tobiah, is no longer with us. Princess Wilhelmina has asked me to speak in his place. . . .”

There had to be a thousand people here. Everyone was crammed in close, and the stink of so many bodies wafted into the hall. But the tall, narrow windows on either side of the throne were wide open, which seemed rather unsafe, but this side of the castle overlooked a cliff and marsh and the wreckage
of Snowhaven Bridge, rather than the city.

James had stopped talking.

Everyone was looking at me again.

I’d missed my cue, but the benefit of being queen was that people waited.

James stepped aside as I began what I hoped was a stately glide down the narrow aisle. As I passed, a couple of people reached out to brush their fingers against my sleeve, or touch the hem of my cape. Sometimes others shooed them away.

I clenched my jaw and kept my eyes on the throne, in silhouette earlier, but now that I was closer and the light had shifted, I could see that it was indeed carved from deep red wood, polished and gleaming, with a thin red cushion.

When I reached the dais, I climbed the steps and somehow—miraculously—managed to maneuver the dress and cape as I turned.

Standing before the crowd, my heart stumbling over itself, I wanted to pull back and slip into a persona. I wanted to wear the mask of a queen, something to hide behind so I didn’t have to think about the enormity of what I was doing. Becoming
queen
.

But not now. Not this time. These people needed me, Wilhelmina, not my impersonation of what I thought a queen should be. So as I spoke the rehearsed words, I found Melanie in the front of the crowd, Chrysalis close to her side, and said it all to my best friend.

I’d fight for my people. I’d rule fairly. I’d always remember that I served them.

When I finished, she smiled and offered a slight nod, and
I performed the miracle of sitting while wearing an impossible gown. A pair of attendants sneaked up to unclip the cape from my sleeves.

A priest approached with a gold crown resting on a scarlet cushion.

Like my gown, the queen’s crown was an intricate display of swirls and angles and knots, all twisted into a delicate dome. There were no gemstones or pearls on it, no bands of silk or pads to soften its weight.

When the priest said the Saints’ Blessing over the crown, and then over me, my breath came in quiet gasps.

This was it. This was the day I’d waited over half my life for. I caught Melanie’s eye just before the priest’s sleeve swung in front of my face.

Then the weight began to settle. First in the front, around the sides of my head, and finally the back. It was forward heavy, but before I could reach up to straighten the crown myself, the priest nudged it back for me.

“Steady,” he murmured. “Try not to move your head.”

Glide. Don’t move my arms. Don’t move my head. Queens weren’t allowed to do anything but sit in difficult dresses.

Someone cheered. Maybe Melanie, maybe the wraith boy, maybe someone else. But all at once, everyone was cheering. The sound shook the throne room, making the stone floor vibrate under my feet.

I was queen.

“Queen Wilhelmina! Queen Wilhelmina!”

Queen when I’d realized maybe I shouldn’t be. Queen
because friends had died for it. Queen because there was no one else.

I’d been given more lines to say as people approached to swear their fealty. To some people, I agreed they would keep their lands and titles. To others, I granted what they’d lost during or since the One-Night War. To most, I simply accepted their offers of service.

I was partway finished when someone’s attention strayed to the window beside the throne and they gasped. “The bridge!” Others shuffled closer to the windows to look.

“What?” I started to turn my head, but the crown slipped. I steadied it as I twisted to look out the window. “Oh, saints.”

The bridge was whole. Debris floated in the water, and cleanup teams were hard at work, but the bridge was entire. The deck—a new one, perhaps—stretched across the gap, and scores of people were crossing. Running, like they were afraid this was temporary.

“Melanie?”

She was at my side in an instant. “I didn’t have anything to do with this. How could I?”

“I was hoping you were just really good at your job.”

“The only thing I’ve done in the last hour is take the wraith boy back to his room.”

The answer was clear, though: a flasher was responsible.

A hum of anticipation filled the room as wagons and carts trundled across the bridge. People on horseback carried blue banners.

There were hundreds of new arrivals. Thousands, even.

After a while, the fealty oaths began again, but the distraction was obvious. Everyone from the Indigo Kingdom hoped one of their loved ones had crossed. But until the coronation was over, it would be insulting to leave, so everyone waited while we all tried to finish as quickly as possible.

An hour later, I’d accepted oaths from the remaining Aecorians, wondering if I should hold off on officially granting wardship to the Indigo Kingdom refugees until the rest arrived, when an attendant knelt and murmured, “Representatives from the Indigo Kingdom hope to greet you on your coronation day.”

“Send them in.” My head ached under the weight of the crown, and I was sweating under all the layers of clothes, but a good queen would greet them anyway.

The next part wasn’t rehearsed, but I knew what to say.

I lifted my voice for the entire throne room. “Any remaining oaths of fealty will be taken tomorrow. People of the Indigo Kingdom, I know you must be eager to see who’s arrived, so should you wish to become citizens of Aecor, that will happen tomorrow as well. Per the Wraith Alliance, titles of rank and nobility will remain, but will not hold any true authority unless specifically granted.”

From near one of the windows, Prince Colin shot me a glare, but there was nothing he could say to contradict me.

The crowd shuffled and a few merchants and soldiers slipped out side doors to help make more room. People moved away from the center of the throne room, giving me a direct view of the representatives at the door.

They weren’t just representatives, but people I knew: Queen Francesca and her sister, Kathleen Rayner. Chey, Margot, and
a few other familiar faces from the ladies’ solar. And there was Sergeant Ferris and Captain Chuter, and—

A black-cloaked figure stepped ahead and pushed back his heavy hood and strands of unruly hair before he looked up.

King Tobiah Pierce.