The Orphan Queen (20 page)

I tugged it from the hiding place and turned it over in my hands, looking for hints of Black Knife's identity. A piece of hair, a scent, or a seamstress's embroidered mark. But there was nothing. The mask smelled like me now, and there was nothing to indicate it hadn't been my mask all along.

Keep it,
he'd said.
You might need it again
.

Earlier, the palace ladies had said there were more wraith beasts in the city. If that was true, Black Knife would be hunting them.

I changed my clothes and slipped my weapons from their hiding places. As exhausted as I was, I wasn't ready to sleep, to think about my wretched life, or to
question
what I'd always known and believed.

Instead, I shoved Black Knife's mask into my belt and made my way into the city.

Unsure exactly where I wanted to go, I roamed the market district, rooftop to rooftop, until I found myself above a small chapel with a bubbling fountain in its tiny courtyard. Half a dozen people knelt on the cobblestones, circling the splashing water. Quiet chanting rose into the night.

“They're waiting to be healed.” Black Knife's voice came from just behind me. “They were told to fast for a week, drinking only water from that fountain, and to pray ceaselessly. If they did that, they'd be healed of whatever ails them.”

“Has it ever worked?”

He shrugged. “I haven't heard the good news yet, but I hope I will one day.”

“Huh.” He was optimistic, for a boy wearing a mask.

“I didn't expect to find you here,” he said.

I stood and slipped behind a chimney, out of the way of the mirrors. Black Knife followed, utterly silent in his movements.

“Or perhaps”—he pulled the mask from my belt and held it between two fingers—“you didn't come to pray.”

Wind tugged at the mask, a banner of black shadow against his dark body. “Are you going to arrest me?”

“Not today. We have too much work to do.” He offered back the mask, and when I didn't move, he said, “Unless you'd rather I arrested you.”

If he knew how I spent my days, disguised as a dead girl and snooping about the palace, no doubt he'd change his mind.

“Not today.” I took the mask just as an immense roar sounded from the chapel courtyard, followed by screams. “Like you said.”

WE SPENT THE
night together, fighting wraith beasts and capturing glowmen. When we were in danger of being spotted by passersby or victims, we traded off who revealed themselves so that no one would suspect there were two of us.

No, there was no
us
. He had an uncanny ability to find me, and I owed him for not turning me in to the Indigo Order when he discovered my magic. I hadn't brought myself to ask why yet. He might still turn me in.

Nevertheless, we fought together, and we fought well. We followed leads painted on walls and fences, black knives with requests for help scrawled below. We found bounty posters that had been altered to alert him to the presence of a dangerous gang, and hints about where dealers were selling shine.

“That one.” Black Knife pointed at the street of linked houses below. All was dark and quiet. This neighborhood had no gas lamps, and the crescent moon had set below the horizon already.

“How can you tell?”

He folded the posters and slipped them into his pocket. “The smoke stains on the house. If there'd really been a fire here, other houses would have the damage as well. No, that's a marker. It tells shine users that they can purchase here.”

Now that he'd pointed it out, I could see the smoke stains on the off-white walls. “Do you trust the information?”

“Yes.” He didn't take his eyes off the house. “But I'm not going in until tomorrow night. There are a few more tools I need for this.”

I was glad we weren't going in tonight. I'd already hidden a few yawns, and I had more work to do on my own before I could go to bed.

He stood and turned in the direction of Thornton. “Are you coming tomorrow?”

“Probably not.”

“Good. I'll meet you right here at midnight.”

I pulled off my mask and tucked it back into my belt. “No promises.”

“Of course not.” He hopped across the gap between rooftops and faced me. “Oh, what would you like to be called?” If tones could be expressions, his would have been a cocky grin.

I narrowed my eyes.

“You should choose something you like. Eventually, someone will see the two of us together, and if you don't choose a name, one might be chosen for you.”

“You're assuming I'll stick around.”

“I think you like the mask. It's irresistible.”

I'd never met anyone so arrogant. “Is that how you ended up
with Black Knife? From people who couldn't tell the difference between a knife and a sword?”

He made a noise almost like a chuckle. “No. I actually did this to myself. But that's a story for when we're better friends.”

“We aren't friends.”

“That's why I'm waiting.” He performed a deep, graceful bow. “Until tomorrow, nameless girl.”

Then he was gone.

Of course I went back.

We took out the shine house easily enough, and then tracked down the supplier and manufacturer. Black Knife had an entire network of informants, signs people left on fences and windows—messages that looked like random scrawls to me, until he explained them.

During those hours of darkness, my thoughts cleared and I focused only on fighting and surviving. Black Knife was reckless when he fought, like he trusted me to keep him out of wraith beast jaws. Or maybe he'd always been like that.

Our only uncertainty came in the moments after killing a wraith beast, when a blast of mist rose up from the body, leaving both of us woozy and confused. But it always passed.

The lights of Skyvale silhouetted Black Knife as he cleaned the blood from his sword and sheathed it. “Usually, I can finish any wraith creatures within the first couple of nights after a storm. But not this time, even with your help. I think it will just get worse from here.”

“What do you think will happen when the wraith gets here?”

“Chaos,” he said. “Every refugee I've talked to has said so.”

He talked to refugees?

How interesting.

When we parted ways, I slipped through the Flags and over the city wall, well clear of the guard towers. Dawn was still hours away, but weariness tugged at my eyes and clouded the edges of my thoughts.

As I stepped into the dark camp of Liadian refugees, I shifted my stride to mimic Black Knife's. I didn't have his sword or gloves, but I doubted anyone would notice. I didn't have his voice, either, but I could disguise mine. He was probably doing the same already.

Cool, sharp air twined through the tents and lean-tos. Within a circle of shelters, a small fire crackled, throwing a fractured glow among the handful of men guarding the camp. There were ten of them, all armed with clubs or other blunt objects. A few had short blades at their hips, and likely hidden within their clothes.

Sheep bleated at my passing, and one of the guards spun around to face me. “Who are you? Show yourself!” At his shout, the others snapped to attention, weapons raised.

My hands palm-up and out to my sides, I stepped into the light, and pitched my voice deeper. Raspier. “Who do you think I am?”

“Black Knife,” one breathed. The men all lowered their weapons.

“I'm chasing a rumor.”

The men gathered around, lowering their weapons. “What
rumor?” A few narrowed their eyes as they took in my height. Tall for a girl, but not as tall as people expected Black Knife to be.

“A map in the palace shows a lake in Liadia marked with questions. What's out there?”

The men exchanged glances. “No one at the palace believes,” said a boy not much younger than me. Small round scars dotted his face. “We were told not to speak of it.”

“I will believe you. Tell me.”

“It's just a rumor,” said the boy. “I didn't see it.”

“Take me to someone who did.”

The guards led me to a nearby tent with a goat tethered outside. One man darted inside, and I caught the edges of his whisper. “Black Knife is here. He's going to stop the wraith. He's going to save us all.”

I entered the small space, which was lit with a few candle stubs. Next to the guard who'd shown me in, a woman sat amid a mountain of blankets. Though she appeared young enough to be my mother, she was hunched, as if she'd hurt her back, or had carried heavy loads for many years. Her expression was grim, with traces of kindness. “Black Knife.”

I stepped away from the shelter's door and assumed Black Knife's posture. Shoulders back, feet hip-width apart, arms over my chest.

“You want to know what I saw.”

“Every detail.”

“I was forbidden from speaking of it.”

“By whom?”

“The Liadian king. His men.”

“They're dead now. Tell me.”

She offered a slight bow. “Before the wraith hit, I was a maid in a lord's country home. Everyone was talking about those barriers like they were the answer, but I knew the truth. The supposed alchemists the king hired to build the barriers were all flashers taken from their homes and put to work pouring magical energy into the walls. I was one of them. But”—she held up her hands, as though trying to appease me—“I don't use magic now. What use is making myself float? I did only what my king ordered. I could not refuse.”

She could have refused, but he might have had her killed for it.

“What happened then?” I asked.

She lowered her hands. “When the walls were finished, we were sent home. The magic barrier seemed to work for a time, but eventually, the wraith broke through. People were angry. Afraid. Many fled immediately, but some of us were trapped by the very barriers we'd helped create. From the house where I was trapped, I watched the wraith break through the walls. Pieces flew into the nearby lake. It was called Mirror Lake.”

There were probably a hundred lakes called that. It didn't mean anything. “The lake with the pieces of the barrier is the source of the rumors?”

“Yes.” She slumped deeper into her blankets. “I saw the water erupt. It cleaned the wraith right out of the surrounding land. That's everything I remember.”

The guard cleared his throat. “I heard that the light of another world shines through the lake now. Others have said the water boils all year around, or the water sucks in the wraith every night so the surrounding land is clean.”

“I see. Is that all?”

They plied me with a few more nonsense rumors before I left the tent and refugee camp. When I was sure no one was watching, I climbed over the city wall and made my way through the Flags.

By the time I reached Thornton, the eastern horizon had turned purple and the silhouettes of mountains were just visible. I had to hurry back to the palace, but first, I needed to grab a few supplies.

I stopped in quiet shops, lifting a sleeping roll and sturdy breeches and bags of dried travel rations. I was out of the area just as the clock tower chimed five and owners began making their way toward their businesses.

Hawksbill was trickier, with maids and servants awake to prepare for the day, but the deep gold rays of dawn left pockets of shadow. I stayed to those, ascending to my palace balcony just as light broke over it. I slipped into the room and let all my new belongings fall to the floor as I staggered into bed. Everything I'd learned tonight spun in my head, even as tension eased from my body and I fell closer to sleep.

No wonder the prince's wraith mitigation committee wanted to keep that place on the map confidential.

Liadia had broken the Wraith Alliance, but did anyone even know what the results were, let alone what they meant?

It seemed no one was interested enough to find out.

No one but me.

PALACE SOCIAL LIFE
kept me engaged most days, but a few times I managed to disguise myself and sneak into the city to secure travel aboard a caravan to West Pass Watch. But for my plan to succeed, I needed Melanie's help.

It had been a week that we'd been avoiding each other since the incident in the Peacock Inn, and I'd seen only traces of Melanie's existence: food eaten, notes lying on the table, invitations sorted. Once, we'd run into each other in the sitting room and stared as though we were strangers, until we awkwardly edged around the perimeter and went opposite ways.

I couldn't let that happen now. I had to catch her. I had to speak with her.

With twenty minutes until a maid came to finish preparing us for dinner—one we both had to attend—I sneaked into her room and waited.

“We need to talk,” I said as she pushed opened the bedroom door.

Her room was half the size of mine, dominated by a large canopied bed and wardrobe. Light streamed in through the window, reflecting in a handful of mirrors. Melanie crossed the room quickly and sat on her bed.

She pushed aside a few books about the origins of the Houses and didn't once make eye contact with me. “I've already had the drop location changed.” Her tone was stiff.

“That wasn't what I—Wait, when?” I gripped the split outer layer of my day dress. “When you went out of the room and spoke with Patrick last week?”

She stacked the books onto her nightstand and lined up the corners. “No. The other night.” Her chin tilted up a hair. “After you left the room, I left, too. I went where I always go.”

My breath caught. After weeks of avoiding the truth, was she finally going to tell me where she'd been going after delivering reports? “And where is that?”

Melanie stood, long, black hair framing her face and delicate features, now pulled down with distaste. “It's Patrick. We meet at the inn.”

“You and
Patrick
?”