“Quite.” I pulled out my notes, each point written in a different hand and color of ink to help organize my thoughts. “There are a number of topics I’d like to discuss, beginning with my journey to the wraithland, and why I decided to go there in the first place.
“Until I attended my first meeting of this committee, I had no intention of ever venturing into the wraithland. To me, the wraith was a distant threat, not as pressing as my desire to ensure Aecorians’ safety, and reclaim my kingdom.” I avoided looking in Prince Colin’s direction. “It was my experience with this council that made me realize the wraith was not as far away as I’d always felt, and that something must be done. And when I saw this map”—I gestured toward the wall—“everything changed.”
The guards in front of the wall map shuffled aside to reveal the inked planes and mountains and valleys, and the bands of color that represented the wraith’s approach each month.
“Those two words—debated and confidential—inspired me to search for the truth about whatever this committee had been hiding about Mirror Lake.” Choosing my words carefully, I told the group about chasing rumors, joining the merchant caravan, and stealing into the wraithland on a borrowed horse. I told them how I’d fought glowmen, learned to sleep only a few hours at a time, and ventured deeper into the wraith than anyone had in decades.
I pulled a section of papers from my stack and handed them to the queen regent. “Please take one.” As the papers went around the table, I said, “These are copies of the notes I took during my journey. I wanted to be thorough, so you’ll find details about the weather, vegetation, and wildlife.” Nothing personal, though. There were too many things I didn’t want to share with this group. “Especially important are my notes on Mirror Lake.”
Tobiah lifted an eyebrow. “When did you make all these copies?”
“This morning. I couldn’t sleep.”
Smiling faintly, he shook his head. “Please continue.”
So I did. I told them about the locust swarm, what I’d done to save myself, and how the wraith boy had been created. “My power isn’t supposed to do that. I temporarily animate objects, but I never give real life. I haven’t yet figured out what was different this time.”
“Is it something you could do again?” asked John Price. “If you brought the wraith to life and we just explained to it—”
“Don’t be stupid.” Adam Goldberg banged a fist on the table. “You saw the creature last night. If Princess Wilhelmina hadn’t been there to stop it, we’d all have died.”
“If Princess Wilhelmina hadn’t been there,” corrected Prince Colin, “the wraith boy wouldn’t have been, either.”
That was true.
“We’re getting off topic.” Tobiah held up a warning hand. “At any rate, that was one of my first questions, and the answer is no. Animating that much wraith could kill Wilhelmina.”
“And before anyone suggests my life is worth sacrificing for this, keep in mind that I don’t know what will happen if I die while in control of something, especially something as unpredictable as the wraith.” I glanced at Prince Colin, whose eyes were narrowed and flinty. “My mother was an animator, too, and her mother. I’ve heard stories of animated knitting or pens that fell lifeless once more when the flasher died. If that happened while the wraith boy, or any other animated wraith, were here in Skyvale . . .”
I gave them a moment to recall the Inundation: the chaos and screams and crack of shattering glass.
“At any rate,” added Meredith, “what would it say about us as a people if we were to sacrifice someone like that?”
The queen lifted an eyebrow. “The saints died for our salvation.”
“Yet Princess Wilhelmina is not a saint.” Meredith pressed her hands to her mouth. “That was rude. I’m sorry.”
I shrugged off the comment. Of course I wasn’t a saint.
We needed to get back on topic. I glanced at my notes and cleared my throat. “With what I learned in the wraithland, and what I learned about the wraith boy last night—”
“When last night?” Prince Colin’s eyes narrowed. “As he was bringing down one of our most iconic and beloved buildings, risking thousands of lives?”
Several people frowned. Theresa glared like she’d murder him. “The only person who endured true harm last night was Princess Wilhelmina. She’s the one who acted quickly enough to ensure we all survived.”
“One cannot hold Her Highness responsible for every action taken by others.” Meredith folded her hands over the papers in front of her.
Their defense of me was nice, but unnecessary. “I spoke to the wraith boy once I awakened.”
Captain Chuter leaned forward, a pen poised over paper. The sharp, straight lines of his handwriting drew my gaze for a second. “What did you learn?”
“He is terrified of mirrors.” I glanced at Tobiah. “That is to our advantage.”