The Orphan Queen (11 page)

The cat swiped at Black Knife, who raised his sword and blocked the fan of claws. A fine spray of blood coated the ground between them, and the cat roared again.

In the nearby houses, candles and lamps were doused. A child's scream rose up and was hushed. The clatter and shouts and roars of a boy fighting a beast were the only sounds on the dark street, and they were piercing.

This creature was a nightmare from the wraithland in the west. It had been normal once, but wraith seeped into its body and mind, reshaping it into this horror. When the wraith reached the Indigo Kingdom, these creatures would be everywhere, not just here and there, blown in on storms.

Black Knife ducked another swipe of the cat's claws and deep gashes appeared in the wooden fence, just behind where his head had been. He leapt onto a stack of crates, lithe and limber as he climbed upward.

The cat pounced, and Black Knife's sword flashed in the gleam of a gas lamp. The cat jerked back and out of the way. Black Knife let out a rough, frustrated sound and pursued the cat without apparent distress.

A pungent, wraithy stench filled the street, wafting up as the cat growled and lashed its tail. With a ripple of muscle, the beast struck. Black Knife blocked, but his wrist wrenched sideways, and the sword went spinning beneath the creature. The crossbow was nowhere I could see. Black Knife drew a pair of knives, but they had no reach. The wraith beast crouched and growled.

“Hey, cat!” My voice sounded shrill and strange against the night, and the wraith beast looked up and yowled.

Black Knife lunged for his sword.

I fixed my grip on my daggers, jumped, and slammed onto the cat's back. The beast screamed as I drove my blades into the back of its neck and dragged them across its spine. Another
thump
, this one from below. Black Knife plunged his sword into the cat's throat, and the tip of the blade pierced the back of its neck, shining wet with blood.

The creature shuddered as Black Knife withdrew his sword, and I yanked out my blades. As the wraith cat fell to the street with a heavy
thud
, I hopped to safety.

The neighborhood remained utterly silent as the dying beast lay between Black Knife and me.

His sword point rested on the ground. His breath came in hard gasps. “Thank you.”

“For what you did in Greenstone. For saving the boy.”

He wiped his bloodied sword on the cat's fur before sheathing it, but when he started around the beast, I took a step backward and he stopped.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“No one.” I glanced between the black-clad boy and the shallowly breathing cat. It groaned and gurgled, and the stench of blood and wraith flooded the street. I swallowed until the urge to gag passed.

“Your group is called the Ospreys, right? What does that mean?”

“It's just a name.”

“You'll admit to that name, but you won't tell me yours?” He tilted his head. “I suppose you'd just give me a false name.”

He was definitely right about that.

“I like the way you fight.”

Was that a
compliment
?

“It's very efficient. Who taught you?”

“Your grandmother.” Patrick Lien had taught us, as well as men he'd brought back from Aecor. Those men hadn't known my identity—it was too much of a risk—but they'd been well-compensated.

“That seems unlikely. My grandmother preferred sewing to fighting.” He stepped closer, all stealth and dancer's grace. His hands stayed at his sides, not touching weapons, and if his wrist hurt from the fight, he didn't show it.

My daggers were still clutched at my sides, the hilts digging
into my skin. “Why were you following me?”

“Because you're a criminal. I'm trying to figure out what you're up to.”

“It's not really your job, is it? The city has police.”

He shifted his weight and shrugged. “They underperform. They work hard, but it's not enough. There are still thieves everywhere.” His tone was pointed. “Clearly.”

“If I were a thief, I'd steal only what I needed.”

“Like paper?”

Chills ran through me. Not even Black Knife was crazy enough to search all the warehouses in the vicinity of our previous encounter and find one misplaced crate with a loose lid.

I eyed his black shirt, trousers, and knee-high boots. His sword. His
mask
. Well. Maybe he was crazy enough.

“Are you going to tie me up and leave me outside a police station?”

“Eventually. Once I know what I need to know.” He looked at the wraith beast. Soon the neighborhood would realize it was safe. People would come out to look at the defeated animal. “Better go.”

I started to back away, still keeping Black Knife in my sight.

Between us, the wraith beast gurgled one last time and died. White mist spewed from the body, a viscous miasma that filled the street.

I coughed and gagged and dropped to the ground. Tendrils of mist swirled around me, suffocating me, drowning me. Darkness shoved at the edge of my vision.

Then it was gone. Dispersed, I guessed.

I was flat on my back, and a shadow leaned over me, touching the pulse at my throat.

Black Knife.

I kicked, but he pressed one palm to my sternum, then twisted and caught my ankle. “I was just checking to make sure you're alive.” His grip loosened a fraction. “I'm going to back away.”

When I didn't move, he released me and took several long strides.

“I'm fine.” I grabbed my daggers and scrambled to my feet. “What was that?”

“They release wraith when they die.” Black Knife gave a deep nod, almost a bow, and sidestepped into a shadow. Metal skidded on the cobblestones—his crossbow, perhaps—and then there was only silence.

I peered into the darkness for a moment longer, but caught no movement, no sounds. Either he'd slipped away or he was waiting for me to leave first.

As much as I hated turning my back on a boy with a crossbow, I had to get back to Skyvale Palace. I couldn't let Melanie return before me.

I spun and ran down the street, keeping to the darkness where I could. I climbed up buildings and used the roofs to get around more quickly, being sure to stop and check for pursuit often. It was bad enough Black Knife had followed me tonight. He
couldn't
know where I was staying or the truth of my mission.

By the time I reached my room in the palace, my whole body shook with adrenaline and exhaustion. My daggers clattered to my bedroom floor as I shut the balcony door behind me and then stood listening for Melanie's presence. Straining
to hear her voice, her breathing, the soft way she snored when she slept.

I shouldn't have worried about returning before her. When the window finally opened and she crept inside, dawn was just touching the sky.

CROWN PRINCE TOBIAH
might have been a spoiled, sullen boy, but he kept his promise.

A few days after Black Knife and I killed the wraith beast, I walked into a large study, all polished wood and paintings, with a heavy desk at one end and conference table in the center. There were six men in the room: four in military dress at the table, James standing at ease in the corner, and Tobiah at the desk.

“Lady Julianna.” Tobiah rose, the others following suit. He gestured to the table. “I'm glad you could join us. Please take a seat.” His tone was cool.

All around the table, polite smiles fell.

“Thank you for the invitation, Your Highness.” I gathered up my gown, a high-waisted creation of midnight blue silk, and prepared to sit. The whole room went quiet. Waiting.

A lady never scooted in her own chair if gentlemen or footmen were present. But now, the men at the table stared at
me like they'd never seen a lady before.

Maybe they hadn't. Not in here.

Just as I started to sit without the luxury of fitting comfortably at the table—as if I hadn't been scooting my own chair for years—Tobiah shot James a look and nod, and the bodyguard stepped from his post.

The room was held-breath quiet as I picked up the ends of my gown, and James pushed my chair as I sat. “I'm happy to see you again, my lady.” His voice was soft. So was the way his fingertips grazed my shoulder blade as he stepped away.

“You all know of Lady Julianna Whitman of Liadia, I trust.” Tobiah strode away from his desk, a small stack of papers in his hands. “Please treat her with as much respect as you'd treat one another.”

That seemed unlikely to happen. Not when I was invading their world.

“Lady Julianna has done what few of us have dared: she's traveled through the wraithland and survived. Her knowledge will be invaluable and her determination to put a stop to the wraith problem is no less than ours.”

Part of me wondered if those praises should make me feel guilty. But while I hadn't trekked through the wraithland, I
had
lived through something horrific, and I
did
want the wraith problem solved.

But more immediately, I had those four tasks: information, misdirection, rescue, and map.

“I'll make quick introductions, and then we'll catch up Lady Julianna on our efforts.” Tobiah sat—the rest of the men followed—and gestured around the table. “This isn't the full
committee; some members have been called away recently. But I'll start with Captain Clint Chuter, House of the Sea.”

“I remember. We were seated close together at the engagement ball.” I nodded toward the captain, who looked a little abashed by his staring earlier. He sent a faint, apologetic smile.

“General Adam Goldberg, General Fredrick Goldberg, both House of the Sun. Adam commands the Indigo Order, while Fredrick oversees the Indigo Army.”

The generals, brothers presumably, were both solid-built men with thinning hair. They eyed me warily.

I put on a shy, hopeful smile. “I'm afraid I'm not clear on the difference between the two divisions. The Order and the Army: they're both military, yes?” I knew, of course, but Lady Julianna probably wouldn't. Men like these enjoyed explaining things. They liked being helpful, so I would put them at ease.

Adam cleared his throat. “The Order is a highly selective military branch. We accept only highborn soldiers.”

I nodded toward Tobiah's bodyguard on the other side of the room, standing stoically. “Like James?”

“Lieutenant Rayner is one of many young men trained to guard the King's Seat and the royal family, as well as deal with anyone practicing magic in the city. Lieutenant Rayner's scores on the Academy final examination, as well as a recommendation from His Highness, earned him this position.” The general sat back. “It's a small, elite army, since there are so many qualifications.”

It hadn't been the Indigo Order that had come through Aecor nearly ten years ago, unless Tobiah's previous bodyguard had followed. They were dangerous for an entirely different reason.
No doubt they had whole divisions dedicated to ruining the lives of anyone caught using magic.

I turned to Fredrick. “And the Indigo Army?” Which
had
been there. Maybe even this man. I pressed my hands to my knees.

“We accept anyone, so long as the young man has all his limbs, though, like the Order, we do comb through the records at Bome Boys' Academy for the highest-scoring students to be considered for officer positions.” He shot his brother a wry look, an indication of a long-standing argument that might never be won. “It's not as prestigious, but my soldiers and officers have an opportunity to travel. We have men at West Pass Watch, under the command of Prince Herman Pierce, and all along the western border of the Indigo Kingdom, protecting people from the wraith.”

Along with men from Aecor?

I bowed my head solemnly. “Both seem like selfless pursuits. I'm sure your people must be grateful for both the Order and the Army.”

“Isn't she delightful?” Clint asked the others, as though I were a secret he was finally allowed to share.

I'd never been called delightful before.

After a bored shake of his head, Tobiah turned to the last man in the room. Though he wore a uniform of the Indigo Order, the buttons strained, and he appeared to have seen little fighting in the last decade. “Finally, my uncle, Prince Colin Pierce, House of the Dragon, Duke of Skyvale, and Overlord of Aecor Territory.”

I blanched. Overlord of Aecor.

Overlord of
my
kingdom.

“My lady?”

My breath was too short; I could feel it, but I couldn't fix it. Men leaned forward, studying me. Someone said something about me not being fit for this type of work, but his voice came from far away.

The prince pushed himself up and started around the table. “James, call for a physician.”

“No. It's all right. I'm fine.” I wasn't fine, but my ailment wasn't anything a physician could cure. I forced my expression into something resembling calmness, struggling to recapture the mask of Lady Julianna before I ruined everything.

Tobiah rounded the table toward me and crouched at my side, pressing one hand flat against my spine, an incredible breech in manners. “Are you certain?” He touched two fingers to my throat. Our eyes met for a heartbeat before his gaze shifted to somewhere over my shoulder. “Your pulse is racing.”

“I'm fine.” I reached for an explanation. Anything. “I'm afraid I haven't fully recovered from my journey through the wraithland. I suppose I was thinking too much about the necessity for this committee.” I needed to control myself better. Even now, the men exchanged unimpressed glances.

James hesitated by the doorway. “Your Highness?”

The moments lengthened, but at last the prince stood and waved James back to his position. “Let's continue. If the lady says she's fine, we won't disrespect her by calling the physician against her wishes.” His polite words didn't quite disguise the withering look he gave me.