“No. Not for a long time. I don’t like the things he does.” The smoke grew thicker as it poured from the hall. “Let’s go. Up the stairs.”
I’d taken three steps when I realized Chrysalis wasn’t following.
“What are you doing?”
He was busy scowling at his feet, and for the first time I realized he still wore the white tailcoats from the coronation. “I wanted to make you happy. I let him out of the cell, and all his friends, because he promised he was going to help you stay queen, and that’s what I wanted, too. I agreed to wait here and tell you his message because he knew you’d come to see him. But I was wrong. I did something bad.”
“It’s fi—” I exhaled through my teeth. It wasn’t fine. It was better that Prince Colin and Patrick were fighting each other, certainly, but this reborn kingdom with its untested queen and heartbroken king didn’t need a battle against two armies.
“I’m going to make it right.” Chrysalis looked up at me, an idea bright in his eyes. “I know how to stop them.”
“What are you going to do?”
“You’ll see.”
Chrysalis vanished.
FORTY-THREE
A PAIR OF Queen’s Guards discovered me just moments after Chrysalis vanished. Matthew went for help, while Cael announced he’d escort me to my room.
“No, I’m needed elsewhere.”
“It’s for your own safety.” He motioned at the knife painted onto his uniform, as if I needed proof he was on my side. “Oscar Gray promised you’d come without issues.”
Oscar Gray was going on floor-scrubbing duty for the rest of his life.
“I don’t need to be safe. I need to find the wraith boy. You have no idea what he’ll do.” Neither did I, though, and that was the most terrifying thing of all.
“All the more reason to make sure you’re safe.”
That was terrible logic, given Chrysalis listened only to me, but I let out a resigned, annoyed sigh, and went with him.
My vermilion cape fluttered behind me as I strode through the halls, which were filling with people wearing black knives on their uniforms, suits, and ball gowns; no one wanted to be mistaken for an enemy. When they saw me, whispers spread like fire.
“Black Knife,” they murmured. “The queen is Black Knife.”
“One of them anyway. Can you believe . . .”
“Is it true?” asked Cael. “That you and King Tobiah are Black Knife?”
I eyed him askance. “Hand me your sword and find out.”
He felt his hip for his weapon, but I’d already unbuckled the sheath and had the blade half drawn before he noticed. “Please don’t tell anyone you did that.”
“As long as you understand the only reason you got me here was because I let you.” I opened the door to the queen’s suite and handed back his sword. “I’ll be out in a few minutes. We have a lot of work to do.”
“I should check the rooms to make sure there’s no danger.”
“If you must.” Unbelievable how much unnecessary work went into making sure I was safe. But I allowed Cael to glance through the chambers, and when he left, I caught the expected clank of the door being locked.
That was pointless, because the lock was on my side.
But that was followed by a thump as he wedged a doorstop into a crack at the bottom.
“Hey!” I flipped the lock and pushed at the door, but that only forced the stop tighter. “What if there’s a fire?”
“Then I’ll remove the doorstop.” Cael patted the door. “Oscar Gray’s orders.”
I kicked the door and rattled it again, but my protest was useless. There was nothing that would inspire him to release me. Not when everyone in the kingdom had worked so hard to get back their queen.
“This is ridiculous.” I marched to the center of my parlor and glared around, but there was nothing even remotely like a battering ram. I could slide something under the door to remove the wedge, but perhaps it was best to let him think he’d won for now.
After a few weak attempts to open the door, I put on a show of giving up, and then moved deeper into the queen’s suite, making my own inspections inside the wardrobes, under the bed, and up the chimney. There was no one, but sending someone to keep me occupied wouldn’t be beyond Patrick.
I shimmied out of my silk ball gown, piece by piece. Cape, bodice, skirt. The whole thing puddled on the floor like blood. Next, my hair came out of the bun, and went into a plain, tight braid.
Finally, I dragged my bag from under the bed and put on the only color I wanted to wear tonight: black.
The soft fabric slid cool over my skin, familiar and comfortable. Stockings, trousers, and knee-high boots followed. I put on my belt and baldric, and secured the sword on my back.
This felt right. I felt like myself. Like Black Knife.
Mask and gloves in hand, I strode toward the balcony door. And stopped short.
The doors between the king’s and queen’s suites were open, and Black Knife stood there with his sword across his back and his mask tucked into his belt.
“It’s like looking into a mirror,” he said.