The Orphan Queen (6 page)

My feet moved. I walked. But I couldn't look away from Tobiah. His eyes were lowered toward something on his father's desk. He kept his hands behind his back as he nodded and murmured, and then both the prince and his father looked up.

King Terrell's smile flashed in my peripheral vision, but it was Tobiah's dark gaze that held me.

He cocked his head and glanced from me to Melanie and back. There was something in his eyes—surely not recognition. It had been almost ten years since the One-Night War, and I was a different person now.

The crown prince said nothing, though, offering only a slight nod and cautious smile.

He had no idea who I was. No idea that—because of him—my life was in ruins. And here he was with his palace and father and perfect life. Like the One-Night War had never happened.

I pushed down those thoughts. I needed to work.

“Forgive me for not standing to greet you.” King Terrell motioned to a pair of chairs in front of his desk. “Please sit. You must be exhausted.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” The words slipped from me without thought, as though I'd never left my own father's palace. My childhood of court manners hadn't disappeared, even after ten years.

Servants held the cushioned chairs for us, then vanished.

“Lady Julianna. Lady Melanie.” King Terrell offered a grim smile. “I'm sorry that you've been forced from your home, and that there was nothing more the Indigo Kingdom could do for Liadia. But I rejoice in your presence here. We'd been informed that there were no more survivors. I couldn't be more glad for incorrect intelligence.”

We both thanked him again.

“Tell me,” said the crown prince. “Why did no one in Liadia evacuate? Everyone knew the wraith was coming, surely.”

Was that a test? Could he suspect?

I repeated the information I'd learned from refugees. “Of course everyone knew that the wraith was coming.” I bit back more venom. A little indignity at his question would be natural for Julianna, but lashing out at Tobiah was unwise. I softened my tone. “Of course everyone knew. For months before the wraith arrived, the weather grew more intense. Winter was colder. Summer was hotter. On clear nights, we could see the glow of wraith on the western horizon.”

The room was so, so quiet.

“We knew it was coming. And so, the royal scholars and
philosophers studied and tested and worked until they announced they had found a way to protect the kingdom. Because he trusted their efforts, His Majesty promised safety for the kingdom, but many didn't believe. They left anyway, so martial law was declared, and borders were closed to keep more people from fleeing.” I let my voice sink. “As you already know, the barrier erected did little to halt the wraith.”

Seconds ticked by on the large clock on the king's desk, and the prince gazed downward, studying his father. I urged myself to sink deeper into the Julianna Whitman persona. I'd been over her stories. I'd practiced her mannerisms. Wilhelmina Korte's feelings didn't matter right now.

“Is there anything else you can tell me about your journey here?” King Terrell's voice was weak. Raspy. “An account of the state of the wraithland would be useful in our own efforts to mitigate its effects.”

I tore my gaze from the prince and focused on his father. Both men were tall and slender, with dark hair and eyes, but the similarities ended there.

The king's face was sunken in, and dark hollows had carved permanent places around his eyes. He was too young to have such wrinkles.

King Terrell was sick, probably had been sick for some time. And he wasn't getting better.

The prince stayed close to his father's side, his hands clasped behind his back. He looked . . . resigned.

This man—this king who'd stolen not just my land, but my parents and childhood as well—was dying. Emotions thundered up inside of me: anger and disgust and a faint sort of satisfaction.
He had destroyed everything I loved. Now, he was finally getting what he deserved.

Melanie touched my arm. A subtle reminder that still looked as though she was comforting me.

“I understand how important your wraith mitigation efforts are.” As I began my tale, a pair of servants moved a small table next to me and poured glasses of pale wine. A plate of crackers and cheeses appeared, as well, and at the king's encouraging nod, we ate. “At first it seemed like the barrier might work. There'd been testing, of course, and we were told that there were pockets of unaffected land in the wraithland, thanks to smaller experimental barriers. When the wraith reached Liadia, it seemed the barrier was going to work.”

“I remember the announcement,” said King Terrell.

“It was almost a year before the barrier fell. Half the kingdom was flooded with wraith overnight. The beasts attacked. The air was—it was—” I drew a shuddering breath and slumped, allowing the Pierces to witness a moment of unguarded weakness.

Melanie reached for my hands. Everyone's expressions softened.

“Forgive me,” I whispered, dropping my gaze to my knees. “Everything happened so quickly. So many people were killed. Even our own guards. If not for the help of two men from the kennels, we'd have perished as well.” I lowered my eyes, letting my expression fall still and grave. It was easy to show grief; all I had to do was think of my parents slaughtered in a courtyard.

“The air glowed in some places,” Melanie said. “It was difficult to breathe. Every night we heard howling, and other
noises. Trees had been turned upside down, and buildings were filled with something solid; everything inside was trapped, like insects in amber. People trapped inside—” Her voice broke. “I'm sorry. I can't. It's too awful.”

“Father.” Tobiah's hand rested on his father's shoulder, and he spoke with a note of tenderness. “These ladies come to us in need of aid. We must provide.”

King Terrell reached around and patted Tobiah's hand, and the difference between them was striking. One was strong and whole, while the other was only a wasted memory of a hand, with veins and tendons protruding. “You're right, son. Lady Julianna, Lady Melanie, you're both welcome in Skyvale Palace for as long as you'd like to stay. Our home is your home.”

I permitted myself the tiniest of smiles, disguised as relief and gratitude. This was it: the beginning of victory.

WE WEREN'T TWO
steps out the office door when a tall brunette and slim blonde stopped us, a duckling trail of maids at their heels.

The ladies were not much older than Melanie and me, but the brunette held herself as though she owned the palace. Her air of assurance faltered only a breath as she glanced from Melanie to me and back.

It was the blonde who spoke first, her voice warm and welcoming. “You must be the two Liadian ladies who just arrived.”

The servant escorting us stepped in to make introductions. “Lady Julianna Whitman, Lady Melanie Cole, this is Lady Meredith Corcoran, House of the Unicorn, Duchess of Lakeside, and Lady Chey Chuter, House of the Sea, Countess of Two Rivers City.”

“Pleased to meet you.” I performed a quick curtsy, and Melanie followed. “Thank you for your kind welcome.”

Lady Meredith, the blonde, stepped forward and took one of my hands in both of hers. “The pleasure is ours. We're just so happy you were able to make it here.”

A cloyingly sweet scent, like honeysuckle, enveloped me as Lady Chey moved next to her friend and took in our dirty, weary appearances. “When we heard two Liadian ladies had arrived at the gates, I couldn't believe it. Lady Julianna Whitman. Your presence is indeed welcome here.”

Lady Meredith cast a guileless smile. “You'll have to attend tomorrow night's ball, of course.”

Surprise flitted across Lady Chey's face, but she concealed it quickly. “Of course, Your Grace. I will make arrangements. It will be good for you to meet new people, especially if you're going to be staying in Skyvale Palace. Do you have gowns?”

I glanced pointedly at my limp bag and the filthy dress I wore. Did it
look
like we'd brought ball gowns?

Lady Meredith gasped. “Look at them. They've been through a horrible ordeal, Chey. Why would you even ask if they brought gowns?”

“Oh.” Lady Chey touched her lips. “I suppose they have nothing at all.”

Fantasies tickled the back of my mind: I could make her perfume come to life and suffocate her, or ask her dress to coil around her and constrict until she couldn't breathe. Anything to make her stop talking.

“We'll send a pair of gowns to your quarters,” Lady Chey said after a moment. “I think we're all about the same size.”

“Thank you.” I pretended not to notice her curves, or the way her emerald dress was cinched to display her cleavage. Years
of hard work and hunger had kept both Melanie and me from developing much in the way of feminine figures. We could—and frequently did—pass as boys. “I appreciate your generosity.”

“It's my engagement ball. It would mean so much to me if you would join in the celebration.” Lady Meredith squeezed my hand and released me.

“We'd be delighted to attend,” Melanie said. “All our congratulations on your engagement.”

Lady Meredith practically glowed as she and Lady Chey offered slight curtsies before turning down the hall, their maids in tow. “We'll find a russet for Julianna. It will match her eyes. And perhaps a teal for her friend . . .”

Melanie and I exchanged pleased smiles as our guide beckoned us farther into the palace.

We didn't have to hide the way we gazed around the palace, but if our expressions were wonder filled, it was by design only. I noted statues large enough to conceal me, and ventilation grates where supplies could be hidden. I kept track of my steps and every turn we took until finally the servant produced a key and opened a heavy oak door.

“These will be your apartments,” the man said. “Traditionally, they were kept as quarters for visiting Liadian royalty. We thought it fitting that you receive them now.”

I didn't respond, just slipped into the large sitting room to get a good look at the silk-covered sofas and chairs, the lace draped across tables, and a half-dozen full bookcases. There were paintings of people and places, but nothing familiar.

“All the furniture was carved from trees cut from the surrounding forest, primarily. The wood panels on the walls are
chestnut, like the rest of the palace.” He went on, naming everyone in the portraits and passing along any gossip he knew first- or second- or thirdhand. “Here is the larger bedchamber where the duchess will sleep. The fireplace, you might have noticed, has no back, so the fire can throw its heat into both the sitting room and the master bedroom. For privacy in the summer, there's a lever that will lower a blind.”

He guided us through the washroom and Melanie's room. Everything was more spacious and grand than I could have hoped. During our tour, a small army of maids invaded with towels, robes, and baskets of soaps and other toiletries. Skyvale Palace had real plumbing and had been fitted with gas lamps in every room.

“Skyvale Palace is a little over two hundred years old—pre-wraith, like most of the homes inside the Hawksbill wall—which means it was originally built and run using magic. In the last hundred years, we've significantly refined the methods of running the palace using new scientific advancements and modern technology, and we also make use of systems that previously used magic.” He finished showing us all the wonders of the palace, and finally left us alone.

I unbraided my hair and indulged in the most delicious bath of my life, lingering until the water grew cold, and then put on a long silver dress to explore while Melanie took her turn.

There were five windows, two of which were actually doors and led to a small balcony; one of those doors was in my room. Thoughtfully, Melanie had already hung our red ribbon in the window: the signal to the other Ospreys that we'd succeeded in installing ourselves in the palace.

I stepped outside and leaned over the edge of the balcony. The air was crisp with an autumn breeze and the scent of turning leaves and the clatter of horse-drawn carriages down wide avenues splashed with red and gold. The private district for Skyvale's nobility, all wealth and extravagance.

Among the autumn foliage, indigo-coated guardsmen walked the perimeter of the grounds. Two men passed the base of the wide staircase, near the entrance gate.

From here, Skyvale was beautiful. The immense wall surrounding Hawksbill blocked most of the view of the other districts: Greenstone, Thornton, and the Flags. From here, the city had no poor, no refugees, no flashers being taken off the streets.

No children living in a forgotten castle in the mountains.

No deadly wraith rushing eastward.

All that could be seen was beauty, prosperity, and people who'd never known anything beyond their own privilege. Children ran under the white cascade of a fountain far below. Their laughter floated upward.

“This is certainly a nice change from the old palace.” Melanie stood in my doorway, wrapped in towels and a robe.

“More dangerous.” I nodded toward her room. “Get dressed. Dinner should arrive soon, and we've got work to do.”

She snapped and thumped her chest, the Ospreys' salute, and vanished into the other room.

After a maid dropped off a heavy crock of soup and a loaf of fresh bread, Melanie and I settled around the table in the sitting room. We devoured the soup within five minutes, and only when we were halfway through the bread did we slow down. Eating
was a competition in the old palace, where the slowest often nursed growling stomachs.

The desk in my bedroom had been stocked with pens and ink and palace stationery, so we positioned a few sheets side by side and started with a long rectangle, a huge rounded bulge at the back.

“This is the palace.” I drew two perpendicular lines for the exterior doors we knew about, including the one we'd entered through. “And the king's office was . . .” My pen nib hovered over the eastern end of the palace. “Here?”