The Orphan Queen (31 page)

He touched his mask, a distant look crossing his eyes. “Just because I wear a mask doesn't mean you don't see the real me.” He took my hands and squeezed. “And just because I don't know your real name doesn't mean I don't know who you truly are. I've seen you rush to help the people you love, and the pain you feel when you're afraid they're hurt. I saw the way you raced to help that boy, and made sure all your friends were safe before you left that night.”

I'd been right to be wary of this boy. He paid attention to everything.

“But can this really work?” He gazed beyond me, and a frown creased between his eyes. “I don't think so. No. We both have obligations we won't be able to ignore when masks come off.”

Or go on, in my case.

Those were unappealing thoughts. “Are you going to tell me how you chose your name? Are we good enough friends for that now?”

His tone was a smile. “So you're admitting that we're friends?”

“We're something.” I smoothed my hair off my face and
sighed. “In some ways now, you know more about me than my own best friend.”

“She doesn't know you're a flasher? A radiant?” His eyebrows drew in; I could see just the tips of them through the holes in his mask.

“No,” I whispered. “Nor how conflicted I am about it now.”

He moved closer to me, so our bodies were just a breath apart. “I'm conflicted, too.”

I stepped into his embrace and rested my cheek on his shoulder. His heart beat against mine.

He spoke into my hair, muffling his voice. “I was worried about you.”

“Optimistic Knife didn't have complete faith I'd return in one piece?”

“I did. Until you weren't back when you promised. You have no idea how relieved I was to see you earlier.” He squeezed me a little. “I wanted to collapse with gratitude.”

“I'd have picked you up.”

He gave a soft snort. “No, you'd have laughed, and I'd have deserved it.” He kissed my temple. Once. Twice. Then, with a soft groan, he pulled away. “It will be dawn soon.”

“I bet you look wonderful in the sunlight. Very . . . inky.”

He captured my jaw in his hands, turned my face up, and kissed me again. “Come here tonight.”

I lifted an eyebrow and glanced at his mouth, hidden beneath that mask.

The cloth shifted, and I could almost
see
the grin beneath the blackness. My hands could half feel the way his smile would move under my fingers. “Bring your new things.” He tilted his
head toward the packet of gifts that I'd dropped earlier. “Bring your sword, too. I'll show you how to do more than just jab it into scorpions' eyes.”

“My way is just as effective as yours.” But in the back of my mind, I wondered whether he'd seen me use magic on the scorpion's chains, or what he'd think if he knew what I'd done in the wraithland. He might not trust me so much then.

I slipped away from him and knelt to pick up the mask and gloves.

“I'll see you tonight, nameless girl Will.” He pulled open the trapdoor to let me out, but when I knelt beside him, he touched my cheek, my hair, my lips. “I think about doing that all the time.”

Pleasure and guilt and uncertainty coiled inside me. Without another word, I left.

Dawn lit the sky in golden tendrils as I reached the palace and climbed up to my balcony, barely avoiding being seen by one of the guards.

Black Knife still didn't know about the other times I'd used my magic. Already there were so many secrets between us. What were a few more? Even if he did find out, surely he wouldn't begrudge my safety.

Except now the wraith was alive. Now it was searching for me.

I glanced over the violet city, half wondering if I'd see Black Knife climbing over the wall, too, but saw only indigo-coated guards changing shifts below, maids leaving grand mansions on early morning business for their employers, and delivery carts
rumbling down the streets, making stops at all the prominent houses. Cathedral bells tolled with the dawn.

Exhaustion dragged at me as I hauled open my balcony door and slipped inside. Curtains covered the glass, blocking out the light; cool darkness cloaked my bedroom, with only faint embers in the fireplace to see by.

I crossed to my bed and laid the package from Black Knife on the corner, and changed into my nightgown.

He'd been right when he said it wouldn't work. We both had our obligations. He was a distraction from my duties to the Ospreys, and I was a distraction from whatever his real life was. Nevertheless, as I climbed into bed and drifted, it was with the scent of him still on me, and the memory of his mouth on mine.

Distraction or no, I wanted him. I wanted the nighttime, and the justice, and the way he trusted me even though I didn't deserve it. I wanted
him
.

The light shifted, brighter through the curtains now, and a nearby bell clanged.

Melanie threw herself into my room, wide-eyed as she heaved open the curtains. “Hurry. Get dressed.”

I toppled out of bed and into a wine red day dress, and let Melanie coil and pin my hair into a bun. “Where are we going? Why's the bell ringing?”

“It's an emergency bell.”

That shocked me into motion. We hurried into the hall, following the crowd of people making their way downstairs. Rumors rippled through the hallways like water: the queen's
sister had killed a man; the prince's bodyguard was imprisoned; Black Knife had been caught.

I grabbed Melanie's hand and followed everyone into the throne room.

Light from the open windows shot through the wide space, illuminating dust motes and gold filigree and crystals on the chandelier. Hundreds of people pushed their way in, forcing everyone to crowd closer. The room grew hot with anticipation.

Minutes passed. Guards in their Indigo Order uniforms pushed their way around the perimeter of the room, their expressions hard and cold. A child cried somewhere. Older lords and ladies grumbled.

At last, the doors beside the throne opened, and out walked Crown Prince Tobiah, shadowed by James and a handful of other bodyguards. Both Tobiah's and James's eyes were rimmed with red, with deep shadows hanging like half-moons beneath. Their postures were stiff, as though held up by stubbornness alone.

Tobiah lifted a hand, and the crowd's chatter dulled and ceased. The only sounds were birds tweeting outside, wind chimes clinking in the breeze, and someone's sneeze.

“Thank you all for coming.” Roughness edged the prince's voice, and he wore last night's tailcoat and trousers, hastily thrown on over a rumpled white shirt. His normally perfect hair was wild and half hanging in his face. “As you're all aware, this morning brings terrible news.”

The chamber was achingly quiet as Tobiah gazed across the crowd. Our eyes met, held for a moment, and he moved on.

“It is my greatest regret,” he said, “to inform you of a
murder. An assassination.” His voice grew heavy, and cracked. “My father, His Majesty Terrell the Fourth, House of the Dragon, Sovereign of the Indigo Kingdom, is dead.

“Be reassured that the Indigo Order and the police are on full alert and are investigating every lead and scenario. No arrests have been made yet, but a list of suspects is being compiled. Please return to your apartments or homes this morning. Palace staff will be permitted in the halls, once they've been questioned, and all of you will receive meals in your rooms today. All events and festivities for this month have been canceled.”

THE LORDS AND
ladies of Skyvale Palace were sent back to their rooms, like children who'd only be in their parents' way if they stayed.

Breakfast was served late, and in spite of the lockdown, rumors still managed to spread from room to room. Black Knife had killed the king; the prince had murdered his father; one of the royal guards had too much to drink and lost control while demonstrating a sword technique. The rumors were wild and frightening, and so was a deep part of me that looked on this development with a sense of wonder.

King Terrell was responsible for my parents' deaths. They'd been slaughtered by his men, there in the courtyard, their blood spilled across the cobblestones. And everyone just watched, too frightened to take a stand.

I remembered catching Prince Tobiah's eye then, the fear and pity in them. “Don't look,” he'd mouthed, but it was too late.

I'd already seen.

They were already dead.

“I can't believe it.” Melanie dropped to the sofa and took a book from an end table. “Murdered. Not just dead from whatever sickness he had.”

I wanted to feel something more, some sense of amusement of the irony, like Melanie did, or relief at the idea of King Terrell
finally
leaving this world, after he'd plagued mine for so long. But all I could summon was this strange sense of pity, like whatever Tobiah must have felt when he urged me not to look at my parents' bodies. Though my parents' men had kidnapped Tobiah, he'd still tried to comfort me when they died. Now, our positions were reversed.

A little after lunch, I rang the servant bell and asked to speak with Tobiah.

“He's part of the investigating team,” said the maid. “He's coming to everyone's rooms personally.”

I thanked her and shut the door.

While Melanie read aloud from a book describing the One-Night War and King Terrell's part in it, I checked that all of our Osprey things were in hiding places we'd agreed on. Everything was in secret compartments, beneath mattresses, and inside little-worn gowns. Papers, notebooks, map—

“Mel?”

“Yes?” She was still in the sitting room, lounging on the sofa.

“Where is the map?” It wasn't with the rest of the papers or shoved between the drawings I'd been working on as part of our disguise.

The book thumped to the sofa cushion, and a moment later,
Melanie stood in my doorway. “I gave it to Patrick while you were gone. It was finished.”

I touched the faded bruise on my cheek and met her eyes.

“No,” she whispered. “He wouldn't.”

“It wasn't long ago we'd have said he would never hit any of us in anger, either.”

“No,” she whispered again. “He wouldn't.”

“We have no proof, obviously. But we need to speak with him tonight.”

She shook her head. “I will. Alone.”

“That night we went together, he wanted me to kill someone, remember?”

“But not the king!”

“We don't know who it was. He wouldn't tell us after I said no.”

“Let me ask before we start accusing.”

I nodded. “Find out what you can.” Black Knife had wanted to meet me tonight, and while I wasn't going to tell him about Patrick, he would certainly be interested in the king's assassination. Maybe I could learn something from him. Or help him. Or . . . I wasn't sure.

Being here in the palace was confusing my feelings and goals. This wasn't my home. I had no reason to care that the king was dead—I should rejoice—but I couldn't help but remember how he'd wanted so badly to improve his kingdom. He wanted the best for everyone. Maybe even me.

A knock came at the sitting room door just as I was hiding Black Knife's gifts under my mattress. I opened the door to admit Crown Prince Tobiah, James, General Fredrick, and a
handful of other men in Indigo Order uniforms. Bodyguards, no doubt. Both the king's and the prince's.

“Your Highness.” I curtsied low, that strange sense of pity gnawing on my heart as I invited him to sit. He took a place at the table and laid out a few sheets of paper. James and the general sat to either side of him, while the rest of the guards took up posts around the room, their hands behind their backs, and their expressions as hard as stone. “My deepest condolences. Losing a beloved parent is one of the worst things in the world. I'm sorry you must endure this now.”

I
was
sorry. Having seen him with his father, having witnessed their strained argument last night—it was easy to see they'd loved each other.

“Thank you, Lady Julianna.” The prince had washed and changed clothes since this morning, but stress lines pulled at the edges of his eyes and mouth, and grief made dark hollows below his eyes and cheekbones. He looked exhausted as he glanced at a list: reminders of what he needed to say. “I am conducting this investigation myself, with the help of James and my father's best men. We've been at this all day, so please forgive any gruffness to our questions. We want this solved as quickly as possible. I'm sure you understand.”

“Of course I do.”

He nodded. “If you'd like anything to drink, a maid is waiting outside with a cart of wine, as well as some herbs for stress and anxiety. May we call for anything for you?”

I glanced at Melanie and we both shook our heads.

“Very well.” The prince turned the first page of his notes facedown on the table and focused on a sheet of paper with a list
of questions on it. “Tell us where you were last night, from the second hour until dawn.”

“I was in bed, sleeping,” Melanie said. “So was Julianna. We came straight back after the ball.”

“Is that true?” Tobiah lifted an eyebrow at me, and I nodded. “Very well.” He made a note on his paper and moved to the next question. “Did you notice anything suspicious as you were leaving the ballroom? People you didn't recognize? People behaving strangely?”

“We're still new to Skyvale Palace society,” I said. “There are many faces I don't recognize.” Not quite true. After spending weeks here, I'd learned many faces, as well as their names and stories and deepest fears, where I could. But everyone I'd seen last night seemed to belong. No, the best attacker would have been one who could have made himself appear to fit in. Unless he'd waited and come after, entering and leaving the palace in the same way Melanie and I did. Once we'd learned the guard routines, the palace was laughably easy to sneak into. Of course, the Indigo Order put a lot of faith in no one untoward being able to cross the wall.