He stayed right by the door, just on the other side of the threshold, and didn’t move.
“You can take off the sack. Leave your clothes on.”
He reached around and up and plucked the sack off his head, then held it at arm’s length as though it were a filthy thing. The canvas sloughed on the floor where he dropped it.
“You are to remain in this room. If you leave, there will be consequences.”
“There are already consequences.” The wraith boy pulled forward like a cat exploring a new territory: cautious but confident.
“Do you need to eat?”
“My nourishment comes from your affection, my queen.” He knelt at the back of the room, his face just a breath away from the wall. “I found a secret. Oh, I like it.”
What?
No, maybe not knowing was better. As long as he was happy. “There will be guards outside your door. They won’t bother you, but if you yell or bang on the walls or do anything I won’t like, I’ll tie up your hands and put the sack on you, and order you to stillness and silence. Understand?”
The wraith boy looked over his shoulder and smiled. “I understand, my queen. I’ll see you soon.”
I moved out of the way as James shut the door. As soon as it latched and he turned the key to lock it, the anxious air whooshed out of the hall, as though a door and lock could keep the wraith boy contained.
James handed the key to me. “I have a spare, but I don’t anticipate wanting to use it much.”
I put the key in my pocket.
While James dismissed the guards, I strode toward my quarters once again, keeping my shoulders thrown back and my chin high. Sergeant Ferris followed in my wake.
“He didn’t do anything yesterday in His Highness’s parlor. Or on the way to your apartments.” Ferris’s voice was soft under the hum of men talking and moving about, relief in their stances, as though they’d just dodged a hurricane. “Why the fuss?”
“Were you present when all the wraith in the city came together and formed him?”
“No.”
“Or when he grew larger and leapt across the courtyards onto the crown prince’s balcony?”
“No.”
I opened the door to my room. “He’s not a tame animal, Sergeant Ferris.”
“Indeed he’s not.” James hurried up. “Sorry, my lady. My chance to see your famous pen at work will have to wait.”
“Is something wrong?”
He shook his head. “I’m being called away for coronation security. Many of our allies are coming to attend the memorial and coronation following. I have to ensure their safety. But I should have some free time tomorrow morning if you’d like to visit my new office.”
“New office?”
“It came with the promotion.” James grinned.
“Have a big stack of paper waiting. But let’s make it afternoon. I plan on sleeping late.” I inclined my head toward the bag of Black Knife supplies, which still rested on the table in my sitting room.
“I should have guessed.” James gave a deep sigh. “Afternoon it is. But what I said earlier: you shouldn’t.”
We both knew I would.
I spent the rest of the day with the Ospreys.
Their suite was as grand as I’d expected. Four individual bedrooms, all with fireplaces, fully stocked bookcases, and even a sculpture of an osprey made of Aecorian sandstone.
“Wil!” Carl looked up from inspecting a crystal vase. “Have you seen what they just leave lying around here?”
“Mind your manners.” I grinned when he put the vase back on the large central table. “If you’re going to steal, take something that’s not in your room. You don’t want to incriminate yourself, do you?”
“At least wait until we leave the palace before looting it.” Theresa stepped forward, shaking her head. “Show them a few shiny things and they turn into ferrets.”
“Hey, Rees.” I hugged Theresa, relieved to see that she—and the others—had bathed and eaten; the plates and trays on the table were licked clean. All of their scrapes and cuts had been treated, and they wore clothes that looked as though they’d been borrowed or handed down from other young nobles—a little worn, but still finer than anything they’d had in the last ten years.
“Come to check on us?” Kevin asked, towering over the two younger boys. In the months since Melanie and I had come here, Kevin had grown taller, and now he was all knees and elbows.
“That’s part of it.” I motioned at Carl again as he slipped a fork into his pocket. “Did you not hear what I just said?”
He hung his head and unloaded his pockets onto the table. Silverware, crystals pried from a candlestick, and a jar of ink with gold flecks in it. “That one was for you.” He tapped on the lid.
My heart melted a little. “Actually, I have a job for all of you.” When they took seats at the table, I began. “Crown Prince Tobiah is going to ask me to sign the Wraith Alliance.”
Connor pulled in his shoulders, making himself smaller.
I leaned onto the table, my weight on my palms. “I don’t know why my parents wouldn’t sign, or my grandparents. Even if there’s anyone left in Sandcliff Castle who might know, how could I trust them to be honest or objective?”
“What will you do?” Theresa asked.
I took a steadying breath. “I’m going to sign the Wraith Alliance, but first, we’re going to make some changes.”
“What kind of changes?” Kevin asked.
I drew a folded paper from my pocket and slid it toward him. “These, for now. But I’m sure I will need more than this.”
He snatched the paper and skimmed the list. “So you want us to study the treaty and look for other changes you might need?”
“Exactly.” I’d have to get them a copy, but that wouldn’t be difficult. “Read it. Study it. Ask questions. I want you to become more knowledgeable about the treaty than anyone else in the world.”
Theresa grimaced. “So no big demands, then. Do you want us to run laps around the city wall while carrying packs of rocks?”
I flicked a crumb of bread at her. Carl caught it midair and ate it.
“I’m going to do everything in my power to negotiate for control of Aecor. Tobiah is agreeable, but his uncle is not. Obviously, he doesn’t want to let it go.”
“When will you start?” Kevin stood, my list of treaty amendments in hand as he began to pace. “Now?”
“Our presence here is the start.” I forced encouragement into my voice. “But formal negotiations will begin after Tobiah’s coronation. That’s fine. He’ll have more power when he’s king. And we’ll need it.” I hesitated. “There are some who will try to delay negotiations longer. We must practice patience.”
Carl shook his head. “I hate patience.”
“That seems foolish,” Kevin muttered. “Delaying truce negotiations. Patrick’s going to start a revolution in Aecor.”
“It is, but Skyvale and Aecor are far apart. It’s not as much of a concern for most people here. And in spite of the Inundation, the Indigo Kingdom is still in a much stronger position than Aecor. Whatever troops Patrick manages to mount will be nothing compared to the might of the Indigo Army.”
Theresa bit her lip. “You make Aecorian independence sound impossible. Was there ever any hope?”
“I don’t know.” I sighed. “Patrick made it sound inevitable. But he has that inevitability about him, doesn’t he?”
“I miss it,” she said. “That certainty of knowing we were right and we would take back our kingdom because of our rightness—that was comforting. Now everything seems so gray.”
“It’s awful.” I forced a minuscule smile. “I’m going to hire a tutor for the four of you. They should be able to help you understand any confusing parts of the document, in addition to instilling some courtly manners into you barbarians. Maybe help with the grayness of everything, too.”
“A tutor.” Carl made a face.
Kevin looked up from his pacing, an
d the list he’d been studying. “The crown prince will allow for magical experimentation to help solve the wraith crisis?”
“He’s desperate. The Liadian refugees have left Skyvale, probably heading for Aecor. Already the southwestern edges of the Indigo Kingdom have fallen to the wraith. Soon, everyone will begin looking east.”
“Who will be using magic? All the flashers in Skyvale get captured. Or—” Kevin cocked his head. “Are the rumors about you true?”
A sinking feeling washed over me. I’d intended to tell them, but his tone of betrayal was cutting. “Some of the rumors are true.”
“What do you mean?” Connor whispered.
“I am a flasher. I’ve always been, but I’ve kept it hidden. I try not to use my power.”
All around the sitting room, jaws dropped as I told them about the locust attack in the wraithland, what I’d done there, and how the wraith became a boy.
Theresa covered her frown with a fist. “I’m not sure where to start asking questions.”
“I know.” I sank back into a chair and sighed. “There’s a lot to take in.”
“Will we get to meet the wraith boy?” Carl asked.
“You don’t want to.” If I could, I’d keep him locked in his room forever. “I just wanted you to know the truth—from me, not from rumors.”
“That’s why Tobiah is willing to amend the Wraith Alliance.” Kevin dropped to a chair again, knees banging the table. “Because even if it’s just rumors, your power is public now, and if he wants you as an ally, he has to justify it by making sure magic is allowed under special circumstances.”
“Can it work?” Connor asked. “Could your magic help stop the wraith?”
I rubbed a spot of tension from my neck. “Maybe. I don’t know. What I did before—it was messy. Uncontrolled. I had no idea what I was doing because it was too big. And while I could try it again, I don’t know if I should. How much more wraith did I create by doing that?”
Of course, they had no answers.
I spent the rest of the afternoon with them, showing them around the public areas of the palace, warning them of who to avoid angering. Sergeant Ferris and another guard trailed after us, not quite invisible as I familiarized my friends with the library, ballrooms, and training rooms.
A copy of the Wraith Alliance had already been delivered by the time we returned to their suite, so I bade them good evening and happy studying. Only Kevin looked truly chipper at that.
At the door, I turned back to the small group and forced cheer into my voice. “Remember, we’re here as ourselves—not to steal valuables—but be guarded, too. Secrets remain secrets.”
They all nodded.
“Remember your lessons.”
“Our lessons on eating the fastest?” Kevin asked.
“Or picking pockets without being detected?” Theresa offered a sly smile.
“Or,” Carl mused, “do you mean the lesson we all learned when you and Mel threw knives at us and we had to be faster?”
“They were wooden knives. They wouldn’t have hurt you. Much.” But I smiled, just a little, even though Melanie’s name hurt. “Your lessons on manners.” With an utterly false grin, I left the suite and hurried back to my own quarters, Sergeant Ferris close on my heels.
Maybe Tobiah and his mother had been right: I should have gone after Patrick when I had the chance.
In my bedroom, I tore open the bag of Black Knife supplies. The clothes and boots were my size, the latter with black ospreys embroidered around the top, invisible except to those looking closely. The belt—black, obviously—accommodated several weapons and tools, including my daggers that had been taken, my grappling hook and line, and a pouch with coiled silk cords. There was also a tiny handheld crossbow and a black-handled sword, meant to fit in a baldric strapped across my back.
Though several of my own tools were included—I recognized the worn parts on my lock picks—everything else was just like Black Knife’s, the size adjusted to fit me.
“And to think,” I muttered at the array of darkness on my bed, “I really just wanted pants.”
There wasn’t a note, but I knew where everything had come from. Tobiah must have worked for weeks to put together this bag.
By the time the Hawksbill clock tower chimed twenty, four hours before midnight, I was ready. All in black, my braid shoved down the back of my shirt, I armed myself and stepped onto the balcony.
I pushed up to my toes; the boots were stiff with newness, and felt strange around my calves, but the treads were deep and strong. I could climb.
Scanning the darkness for guards, I hooked my grapple to the rail, near where it met the palace wall, and rappelled to the ground. My toes touched with barely a sound, and I coiled the line to stow it on my belt. There was a place for everything. Beautiful.
Soft voices carried on the breeze, coming from the far end of the palace. There’d be more nearby. In the forest. In the ruins of the outbuildings. I avoided them all as I moved toward Greenstone.
Usually this area was quiet after dark, when most of the workers returned to their homes, but now, a soft rumble of life swirled up to my perch on the Hawksbill wall. Voices skittered from inside doorways and alleyways where people huddled under threadbare blankets and in patched caps and jackets.
Heart sinking, I sidled along the wall to plan my path through the district. I shouldn’t have been surprised to find dozens—maybe hundreds—of displaced people hiding here, and I couldn’t begrudge them the meager warmth they found in the lee of wide buildings. But their presence was going to make my investigation more difficult. Greenstone roofs were harder to navigate than those in Thornton and the Flags. Here, the buildings were spaced to allow for large carts. Railroad tracks sliced through a few streets, though in the century since trains had been decommissioned, much of the iron had been stripped to put to better use.
“Hush,” someone hissed.
The hum of voices was silenced immediately, replaced by the thud thud of boots on pavement. I pressed myself flat on top of the wall and watched over the slight lip in the stone.
Lanterns held aloft, police poured through the streets. “This is a restricted area!” one called. “No one is permitted to be here after dark. If you leave now, you’ll receive no punishment. But if we have to remove you by force, you’ll be taken out of the city and not permitted inside again.”
No one moved. The police formed lines down the center of the streets, peering into the shadows, though with those lanterns their night vision must have been shot. “We know you’re here. You have two minutes.”
I held my breath, waiting to see if anyone would follow orders, but the homeless pressed tighter into hiding places, and shadows shifted in the grime-smeared windows of abandoned buildings.
The first minute slipped by.
“Just step into the light,” one of the officers shouted. “This area is dangerous. You can’t stay here. But there are shelters in the Flags.”
Another officer spoke directly to a doorway where I’d seen a family huddled. “Greenstone was hit hardest during the Inundation. It hasn’t been fully secured—”
“Nowhere has been secured but the palace!” a man shouted. “Even the shelters are dangerous! We live in terror while nobles plan more parties!”
Chaos exploded in the street. Homeless scattered in all directions, some toward the police, who lifted their batons to defend themselves, but most just ran away. Shoes—even bare feet—pounded the paving stones as people began grabbing their belongings, lifting children, and vanishing around buildings.
Icy wind breathed in from the west; I shivered on the top of the wall, watching as lantern-wielding police officers took off after the homeless. Screams and cries sounded as people were captured. Officers cuffed some to poles, and cuffed others to them, creating a chain of prisoners guarded by a few officers while the others chased down those who’d escaped.
After the initial frenzy, the roads below me grew quiet, with only the occasion
al sob and cough to break the long note of wind cutting around corners.
I peered down to count how many the police had arrested.
There were several groups of people huddling together—families, some with small children—and many who looked like strays caught when their friends or relatives took off.
There were just over a hundred people, plus others the police were dragging back. Only three or four police stood guard.
A handful of officers was no problem, but even a hundred frightened people could turn into a mob. I’d seen people react to Black Knife’s presence before; often it was friendlier than I wanted to risk. Anyway, I doubted Black Knife being revealed as Princess Wilhelmina would win me favors. But what could I do? I was just one person, and wasn’t finding Patrick more important?
Shame welled up inside me. Allowing the police to force these people out of the city was as good as giving my approval.
Cold air seared the back of my throat as I felt my hip for the small crossbow. Just because I couldn’t risk going down there didn’t mean I couldn’t give the prisoners a chance to escape.
I cocked the string and loaded a small bolt into the slot, then adjusted my position and took aim.
The bolt struck home in an officer’s leg, and a new wave of panic erupted as prisoners screamed and struggled to free themselves. My next four shots went quickly, all but one finding their targets.
“Black Knife is here!” someone yelled, followed by, “Black Knife will save us!”
I pulled away from the edge of the wall. With any luck, the prisoners would simply steal the keys to their cuffs and leave.
Officers returned to help their injured comrades. I took a few more leg shots before springing up to run along the wall, away from the action.
Wind pushed at me, but I ran until the shouts and cries faded with distance. Only when I was alone again did I pause and crouch, and survey the northernmost edge of the district before me. My breath came in short gasps, mist on the winter air.
Had I done the right thing back there? Had I done enough?
There were so many people displaced because of the Inundation. Maybe Greenstone wasn’t the safest district in the city, but surely it was safer than being forced outside the walls, or into crowded shelters in the Flags. With new refugees coming into the city, the shelters would only become more congested.