The Orphan Queen (22 page)

I shot him an annoyed glare. “Are you here to make friends or do your job? I'd rather not die in a refugee ambush, so kindly shut up.”

One man flicked his little finger at me, and the others grumbled among themselves for a moment before one said, “There was a caravan ambushed by refugees not two weeks ago. It was a caravan heading east, and they killed several merchants and guards. Refugees died, too, at least.”

Revulsion washed through me. Those hadn't been refugees. Those had been Ospreys, posing as guards.

Just like me.

They must have been so frightened when the other guards brought down their swords.

I pushed away thoughts of Quinn and Ezra. Right now, I needed to work.

Eventually, the men lost interest in me, letting me lag behind. I kept close watch on the trees, listening for any sounds out of the ordinary. Ospreys practiced stealth in the woods as much as in the city, keeping to the shadows, keeping our voices low, and keeping alert because anything could happen to a handful of children—now teenagers—alone in the woods.

In contrast, the caravan was noisy with the hum of wheels on steel, hooves striking dirt, and the voices of men unworried about attack. The forest animals had gone quiet with our passing and would be no use as indicators of anything else.

Our shadows shortened before us and we paused to eat rations and let the horses drink from a stream that ran down from the mountains.

“There are caverns that way.” One of the men sat next to me and pointed northward. “Black as pitch in there, but if you bring a good light and mirrors, you might have a chance of seeing some amazing structures. You'd think a sculptor went in there first. Air's so clean, too, it almost hurts to breathe when you come back out.”

“Don't tell him about that one, Josh,” said another man. “There's better ones north of Skyvale. Some of the stalagmites are hollow tubes, and you can blow over them like flutes. Those are better.”

Josh threw up his little finger at his friend. “Just trying to
show young Will what's around
here
. Your singing rocks aren't anywhere near here, are they?”

“Er.”

I glanced between them, chewing on a last bit of my jerky. I wasn't much interested in stories about caves.

The caravan stretched into the west, all wood and metal wagons painted with merchants' colors and examples of their wares. The horses milled around in tiny herds, each group near their designated wagons as they munched on the browning autumn grass. Some of the guards had horses as well; their bridles and clips clang-clanged as they ambled around.

The air was still and crisp and, for once, free of the acrid stench of wraith. Only the odor of people and horses and autumn filled the road, and with the sun slipping past noon, there were few shadows.

One of the shadows moved.

Just a fraction, but movement nonetheless.

I peered harder, tuning out the guards' voices. The shadow in the trees resolved itself into a black-clad young man. When he lifted a hand in greeting, I rolled my eyes and sat back.

Once the caravan rumbled into motion again, there wasn't much of a chance to sneak away. A few of the older guards hung back in the forest, making sure no people—or wraith beasts—were following, but as a new and young guard, I wasn't permitted.

At nightfall, I took first watch, and adjusted my weapons before I climbed a tree.

Moonlight filtered through the canopy of copper leaves, and rained silver-blue on the railroad where the wagons had been removed from the tracks and now waited in formation for morning.
The caravan leader and merchants slept in the middle, while off-duty guards dozed on wagon rooftops, their weapons close beside them.

The road was dim. Empty. Only a breeze disturbed the stillness.

“Do you even know how to use that sword?” Black Knife appeared out of the shadows, crouched on a branch above me, one tree over. He was
so
quiet.

“I know which end to stick where.” I smiled as I scanned the road again. Nothing. Only the faint scent of wraith blew in from the west. “What are you doing here?”

“I just wanted to take a walk. That's not a crime, is it?”

“You're the one who decides whether people are criminals.”

“
I
don't decide. Other people are the ones going around taking things that aren't theirs.” When he stood, the tree groaned and a leaf fluttered down, but that was all. He braced himself on a high branch, then maneuvered and stretched until he sat beside me, just a breath of air between us. “So, Will.”

I stiffened. “What did you call me?”

“Will. I heard one of the guards call you Will earlier, but I can go back to calling you ‘nameless girl' if you prefer.”

My whole body sagged in relief. “Call me whatever you want.”

“Will, then. What are
you
doing here? Don't you have important things to take care of elsewhere?”

“I have important things to do here.”

“In a tree? With a merchant caravan?”

I shrugged.

“Wraithland.” His tone was low. Dry.

“Yes,” I said. “I'm going to the wraithland.”

Wind gusted through the trees. At the acrid stench that followed, both of us stilled and our eyes met. “Do you hear anything?” His whisper was so soft I almost didn't hear
him
.

We listened, waiting, but night birds chirped and nocturnal animals skittered through the trees. A wolf howled in the distance. After a few minutes, we relaxed.

“Don't go to the wraithland,” he said. “It's too dangerous.”

I smirked. “Why, Black Knife. You almost sound worried.”

He seized my hands; the leather of his gloves was cool against my skin, and I could hear the faint rasp of his breath as he drew me closer. “Don't go. Come back to the city with me.”

I leaned away. “I must go.” I hesitated, but pushed out the words in pale gasps. “You know what I did to that man. You know what I am.” Since the One-Night War, I'd never said even that much aloud. Even hinting at my ability would draw unwanted attention—like Black Knife's—and here I was, laying myself bare. “I have to see what's out there, what it means. Unless . . .”

“Unless what?”

“Have you been there? Do you know what it's like?”

“Just the stories.” The admission sounded like defeat. “Maybe a few more stories than most, but no firsthand experience.”

“What kind of stories?” An owl hooted, filling my pause. “There's a secret out there.”

He raised his eyes to the sky and drew in a breath. “What are you looking for?”

Could I trust him? Probably not. He called me dangerous, but he was just as much of a threat. Still . . . “I saw a map,
which made it very clear there's something hidden out there, and I want to know the truth.”

“Ah.” There was amusement in his voice. “For someone who lies and steals and impersonates others, you are awfully concerned with the truth.”

If only he knew about my other great talents, like forgery. Then he'd be really impressed. “Do you know anything about that location?”

He sighed. “Only rumors. What have you heard?”

“Oh, I don't think so, Black Knife. You haven't said anything to hint that you actually know what I'm talking about.”

A small, warm chuckle came from behind the mask, and the black silk shifted with his smile.

“I'm so glad my suspicious nature amuses you.”

“It's delightful.” He adjusted the collar of his shirt. “Very well. I will take the risk of revealing what I know, in hopes of convincing you of my trustworthiness.

“You saw a map with a location marked ‘confidential' and ‘debated.' Further investigation revealed that it was on the northwestern border of Liadia, where there was little more than a village, a lake, and a nobleman's country home. Now you've got a mind to go see this lake for yourself to determine what is actually out there, though I can't figure out why
you
care about it so much you'd risk your life and sanity.”

He didn't think very highly of me. “What do you mean I'm risking my sanity?”

“There's a reason why your lake is so debated: few people are willing to make the journey into the wraithland, and even fewer return. Those who do bring such wild and unbelievable stories
that most end up in institutions for the mentally unsound.”

“Oh.” I swallowed a heavy lump in my throat. “I don't suppose you have statistics on that.”

“The chances aren't good, Will. What makes you think you can survive the journey?”

“Nothing, I suppose. But I must discover the truth.”

“It's not your responsibility.”

Nice, coming from someone who didn't see why I would bother. “Whose is it, then? Yours? The king's? Any of the other kings who've tried and failed in the past?”

“It should be a worldwide effort, not just the effort of one girl pretending to be a boy.”

“Kings and princes sit over councils and pretend they have a plan, but the truth is, they don't. And the rest of the world is weary, just waiting for the end.” I hesitated around the dangerous truth. “Liadia broke the Wraith Alliance.”

Black Knife stilled. “How do you know that?”

“A refugee told me.”

“Who?”

“I didn't ask for a name. I didn't want you to go after anyone, if you found out.”

He tilted his head a fraction. “You don't trust me?”

“Of course not. You're a vigilante. But I'll tell you the story I heard.” Leaving out identifying details, I repeated what the refugee maid had told me. “If it's true, and there really is an area unaffected by the wraith, I owe it to the people I care about to find it and determine whether there's any way to survive when the wraith hits.”

“Don't you owe it to them to stay alive?”

I eyed him askance. “Do you have friends, Black Knife? Family? People who care about you? Don't you owe it to them to stay safe and alive?”

His voice was soft, and he dragged one gloved finger down the side of his mask. “It's for them that I wear this.”

“Then you understand. I need to do this because of what I am, and who I have to protect.” A queen who wouldn't protect her subjects was no queen at all.

“Because of your magic. And the children you watch out for.” Heartbeats thudded between us. “If you're determined to be foolish and brave, at least tell me your plan.”

The implied sentiment was clear:
at least tell me you
have
a plan
.

I dared the smallest of smiles. “While everyone else stays in West Pass Watch, I'm going to hike down the mountain and into the wraithland. I need to
see
that lake. I need to touch it. Maybe I'll find that it's exactly like the rest of the wraithland. But maybe I'll discover something beyond that—something that changes everything. Maybe there's something I can do to halt the approach, not just
mitigate
the effects. If I can stop it, don't I have an obligation to try?”

Black Knife's gaze wandered into the forest beyond me. “I hear myself in your words. Asking you again to reconsider would be horribly hypocritical of me.”

“I'm glad you finally realized that.” My tone was light, but I was relieved he'd said it. I didn't need his approval, but it was nice that he understood.

He turned back to me. “What is your magical ability? To heat things? The stone on that wall had been melted.”

I closed my eyes. Talking about my magic out loud was too much. Especially with
Black Knife
. Naming my ability would shatter this tentative truce. He would never be able to overlook what I was. When I was a child, I'd believed I'd brought things to life. The truth was that I could animate objects, and command them, but there was no real life involved.

Still, it was a dangerous power. “What happens to flashers, Black Knife?”

He seemed to deflate. “They're taken to the wraithland to be killed in the very thing they helped create.”

“Oh.”

“It used to be a longer journey, and the Indigo Kingdom passed them off to Liadia and kingdoms beyond in order to reach their punishment. Now it takes just a few days to reach the wraithland. They're deposited at West Pass Watch and sent in along with glowmen.”

I balled my hands into fists and squeezed my eyes shut.

“They can't use their magic to escape because they're given an injection. It keeps them barely conscious, unable to focus enough to use their power.”

And when they were delivered to the wraithland, the glowmen would tear them apart. The beasts would devour them. The air would suffocate them.

“I wish I hadn't investigated. It was easier not knowing.” He shivered, and he sounded—upset? Hurt? Confused?

“Are you still capturing flashers?”

“No,” he whispered. “I haven't been. It's why I couldn't take you in that night, and why I wanted you with me after.”

“Even though the man—”

He nodded, shifting toward me, and our shoulders brushed. “Even though.”

His shoulder against mine was a faint, barely there warmth. I didn't move away. “Why are you here?” I asked.

“I like sitting in trees.” There was tension in his voice, and weariness.

“Admit it.” I leaned away from him, keeping my tone hard as our eyes locked. “You're following me.”

He laughed and ducked his face. “Very well. I'm following you.”

“Why?”

“You keep getting away from me. That never happens.”

“I don't think you're even trying to catch me anymore.”

His chuckle came again, warm and muffled, but real enough that something inside me melted. “I'm still trying,” he said.

“And as part of this never-ending quest, are you going to follow me into the wraithland?”

His posture shifted—shoulders down and slightly turned—and he glanced west, as though conflicted. “I can't.”