The Orphan Queen

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.”

 

 

 

 

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