I write with the worst kind of news: West Pass Watch has fallen. The western mountains are flooded with wraith mist. My uncle Herman is dead, along with over one thousand men who’d been stationed there.
And now the west is gone. Only a narrow stretch of valley and Midvale Ridge stand between Skyvale and the wraithland. Wraith beasts wander everywhere; guards on the city walls see them roaming the forest. That means we have plenty of wraith beasts for the barrier, but I’ve heard the Flags are filled with signs begging for Black Knife to return. They’re scared. Everyone is.
Mirrors again cover every west-facing wall in the city, and all along the border, but they didn’t save West Pass Watch. There’s just so much wraith.
The barrier is still under construction. It seems unlikely we’ll complete it in time.
Many families have already left Skyvale. The Chuters, Corcorans, and Davises. My mother and aunt have gone to Hawes. Others are packing, and I don’t blame them. I worry for the ones who can’t leave, like so many in the Flags. Lakeside—near Bracken Lake in the south—has already evacuated.
People are moving east. Advisers have suggested I should, too, but how can I leave Skyvale when there are still people here, and there’s still a chance we can save it?
Tobiah
I trailed my fingers down the pages. No wonder James wanted to return.
Heart heavy, I went to my desk to respond with my condolences, as well as updates on the refugees moving into Aecor and the status of the kingdom. I also added James’s request to return to the Indigo Kingdom.
Tobiah must have had the notebook open, because his writing began appearing on the next page.
Wil,
Thank you. Like no one else, you know the devastation of watching your home fall apart.
Please tell James I understand his desire to return, but I need him there.
Do you have time to write now? James and I have been drawing a line beneath our notes when we’re finished so the other can begin.
Tobiah
My heart jumped into my throat as a black line spread across the page. We’d been writing every few days, but our letters were nothing that could be called a conversation. They’d been updates and advice, nothing more.
Now he wanted to talk.
And if I didn’t respond quickly, he’d decide I wasn’t here anymore and give up.
Letting him think I’d gone would be cowardly.
I’m here, I wrote.
For a moment, I sat with my pen hovering over the paper, wondering if I should say anything else. I drew a short, flourished line instead.
I’m glad.
Oh, this was awful. I should have shut the notebook and left it for James. How could anyone converse like this—when they couldn’t hear the other’s voice or tone, or see their face and mannerisms?
But I could imagine Tobiah in his office, or room maybe. In my mind, he was wearing his typical black clothes, with his hair mussed and hanging in his face. And he, too, watched the page with those dark eyes, waiting for me to respond.
I couldn’t say what I wanted, though.
What did you need to talk about? I used my handwriting—still in development, and likely to change—adding a few flourishes to the ascenders and descenders. Maybe the question wouldn’t sound rude.
A dot appeared on his line. Then another above it. As though he’d changed his mind about how to respond.
I think we should begin referring to magic users as radiants again, rather than flashers. The latter is rude, and if the barrier works, magic may be what saves us.
A smile escaped me. That’s thoughtful of you, I wrote. I’m inclined to agree. I’ll take being called a radiant over flasher any day.
I would, too. He switched to the line below, like a change of subject. I want you to be crowned queen, Wilhelmina. My uncle won’t easily let go of Aecor, but there’s a plan already in motion. There was a long pause, and finally, a line.
I wanted to ask what plan, but everything between us was so strained. I hadn’t earned back his confidence.
Promise me something. I dipped my pen and shook off the excess ink. If the wraith moves across the Midvale Ridge, you will abandon Skyvale and go east until you’re safe.
We’ll never be safe, Wilhelmina. He started a line to signal my turn, but he stopped and added, I must go. We’ll talk again soon.
THIRTY-FOUR
THE CLOCK ON the mantel showed half past the fourth hour.
I slipped out from under the covers and threw on my dressing gown. At the balcony door, I pulled aside the curtain and gazed at the night-black city, my bedroom faintly reflected.
My breath fogged the glass. From here, I could see a glow on the cliffs in the west: more mirrors were hung every day, though trying to protect Aecor and be mindful of the wildlife that lived there was a tricky balance.
I let the curtain fall as I moved away.